BOOK REVIEW: Testing Truth by Cynthia Sax #cyborgs #SciFiRomance @CynthiaSax

A fun-loving cyborg gets serious about love.
***
Truth lives each moment as though it were his last. The cyborg warrior rushes into danger, teases beings he shouldn’t provoke, accepts every call of adventure he encounters.

When a prissy little human princess floats into the Rebel structure Truth is occupying, seeking a mercenary to assist her and her unusual entourage, he volunteers to be her warrior. She claims their assignment is dangerous, warns him he might not survive the task.

That is exactly the type of fun he has been seeking.

Princess Nanette of the planet Royaume must rescue her estranged brother from an enemy prison ship. That is her duty, and she has been trained to always place the needs of her planet and her subjects before her own. Nancy doesn’t have the freedom to indulge her passions for a certain dark-haired, gray-skinned cyborg. Not permanently and not publicly.

But she is unable to resist the warrior. Truth, with his laughing eyes, smiling lips, and rough hands, tempts her as no one else ever has. He could be her one fleeting act of rebellion before she’s matched with the powerful ruler her planet requires.

If they survive their current mission.

Their love is doomed. Their lifespans are at risk. This cyborg and his princess will need the help of every ally they have if they wish to see another sunrise.

Where to Buy: Amazon | Apple Books | B&N Nook | Kobo
***
Testing Truth is a STANDALONE Cyborg SciFi Romance set in a dark, gritty, sometimes-violent universe.
It is the last of six core stories in the Cyborg Space Exploration Series.

Book 1: Choosing Chuckles
Book 2: Doc’s Orders
Book 3: Dominance And Dissent
Book 4: Passion Surge
Book 5: North Bound
Book 6: Testing Truth

MY REVIEW

5-stars!

First, let me say that I have loved every book in this series! If you like cyborgs AND romantic comedy, this series is a must-read!

Testing Truth has all the elements you would expect from a book in this series. Comedy, action, romance, and a very strong hero and heroine who complement each other in every way.

With Truth, his princess gets to learn not only that she’s permitted to be happy but her subjects will adore her just as she is. For Princess Nancy, it’s a revelation, even though she gets there rather slowly. Having responsibility drummed into her from birth, it’s not easy for her to think of her own wants and desires over those of her people. I loved seeing the way she interacted with her advisors and how their relationship evolved throughout the book.

I laughed SO much with this story! Even the battle scenes had a dose of humor to them, and some of the love scenes as well. Once I started reading, I just couldn’t stop! I can’t wait to see what happens next in this awesomely amazing series.

*Disclaimer: I purchased a copy of this book from Amazon. The author did not request a review. The review above is merely my opinion.

How Not to Date a Centaur by Stephanie Burke #RomCom #ParanormalRomance @FlashyCat

How Not to Date a Centaur (How Not To 7)

Good girl Kiara Stone only wanted to have a little fun for once in her life, and parachuting over Cambodia seemed like a thrill. But crash landing through a mountain and landing in the land of the centaurs was almost too much.

Now she is their goddess and under the protection of two very regal male warrior partners, Zeethan and Xaylu, and struggling to learn a new culture as foreign to her as her ways are to them. Hopefully she can learn fast enough not to start a war, destroy their whole belief system, and learn to date a pair of centaurs, because it looks like there is no returning home.

Get it at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Stephanie Burke


“Good Lord, I’m gonna die!”

The wind stole her words and her breath as Kiara gripped the steering line and the toggle, desperately trying to control her descent.

This was what she got for buying into some bargain basement parachuting course. Her instructor had bailed on her at the first sign of high wind trouble, leaving her on her lonesome to navigate her way down the side of an Angkor mountain. Hell if she knew which one, she’d been blown so far off course. The last thing she remembered was watching the yellow and blue parachute of her instructor just before he cut the fucking line that tethered her to him.

And now, instead of enjoying the view of the lush green jungle being swallowed by the amazing temples that dotted the terrain, she was in free fall, struggling not to pass out, vomit, and well… die.

“Lord, save me, and I swear I will never –“

What the hell did she have to bargain with, anyway? She didn’t smoke, didn’t drink to excess, never had indiscriminate sex… the most wild thing she had ever done was take this trip and go on the fucking parachute jump her friends had recommended.

“I won’t lie, Lord,” she muttered, holding in a scream as her body began to twirl like a top as her stabilizer line snapped. “I don’t have much to bargain with here, but I swear I will try to be a better perso — oh, fuck!’

The side of a mountain was heading for her face at an alarming rate.

Closing her eyes, not brave enough to face her own untimely death, she began to scream her way into the afterlife. Only… only she didn’t die. Instead she felt her ears pop, her body compress, and white light flash behind her eyes. But there was no painful slamming into the top of a mountain, there was no gut-wrenching pain, there was nothing but a sudden lurch and the worst wedgie she had ever experienced.

“Son of a bitch!” she roared as she came to an abrupt stop, nearly biting her tongue in half as the jolt shook her whole body.

Kiara Stone was a lot of things, but today made her a believer in a higher power and assured her there was some truth to the old adage “God looks out for drunkards and fools.” She was not drunk, so that would make her —

“What the hell,” she panted, her heart nearly in her throat along with her stomach as she peeled her eyes open, unashamed of the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

An odd sound captured her attention. She looked down and groaned. There were people down there. She was safe.

She looked up and noted she was hung from a strange tree about thirty feet in the air. She looked down and realized the sound she heard were shouts of agony and war cries.

Had she stumbled into some kind of reenactment? It had to be, because she was looking down at a group of men riding their horses so well they almost seemed to be one body. Maybe it was a movie, she reckoned. And as much as she would hate to ruin their shot, she wanted out of this tree.

She looked around and saw one man below her. “Hey!” she shouted as loud as she could, but the riders seemed to be making too much noise for him to hear her. “Up here, buddy!” She didn’t even know if he spoke English — very few did here outside of tourist areas — but she had to try.

Wielding a spear, he seemed to be creeping up behind another warrior who looked to be pulling on a young man trapped under his horse.

She knew that if she couldn’t get his attention, Lord only knew how long she would be trapped in this tree. She began to twist and jerk in the tree, praying he would look up — that something would happen.

What happened wasn’t what she expected. The branch that prevented her from slamming into the ground began to creak and whine. She looked up just as it gave a loud crack.

“Fuck!” she wailed as once again she was plummeting to the earth.

Hard impact broke her fall, and she realized she had landed on top of the spear guy. They both tumbled to the ground in a mass of hair, horse, and parachute.

“I’m sorry,” she babbled in the sudden dark.

A rending sound cut through the parachute and brought back the light. She blinked as she looked up and saw a man with white-blond hair and the most curious green contacts staring down at her.

“Hi?” she offered.

“Goddess,” he breathed, a look of awe crossing his face. “You have broken the back of my enemy.”

A shout beside her made her jump as the sound of racing hoofbeats filled the air.

“Xaylu.” Blondie turned to call to the man who approached. From her spot beneath the horse and the suddenly still man, all she could make out was black hair. “She has slain the warmonger and murderer Xexis. This war is ended.”

There was a loud blast of some kind of horn and a lot of the noise disappeared. The sudden silence was as disturbing as the fact that the man she landed on was not moving.

“Slain?” she asked, but her words were drowned out as a righteous cheer filled the air.

“Retreat, you fools!” Blondie bellowed, his voice projecting well. “Your leader is slain. His mad desires perish with him. Continue to attack, and we will have no choice but to slay you all!”

There was some murmuring, some shouts of disbelief, and Blondie began to speak again. “He fell sneaking up behind me in dishonorable combat. A goddess has fallen from the sky to prove our might and ensure our victory.”

Blondie bent over, and suddenly she was hefted from beneath the fallen horse guy and triumphantly thrust up into the air like a war prize. Her “hey!” was drowned out as several men retreated and others cheered.

And it was right about then that she realized that she wasn’t being held up by a man on horseback as she’d supposed. She found herself speechless as she stared out on a sea of men who were their horses.

“Centaurs,” she breathed, as Blondie spun around, his compact horse body moving gracefully as the black haired Centaur next to him, the one he’d called Xaylu, blew the horn again.

“Victory!” he was screaming. His back tail and mane flying around his brown body, he danced about on black-stockinged feet.

She looked down into the green eyes of the Centaur that held her aloft and realized he had a compact black body, his tail and stockings were a metallic white gold, and he was looking worshipfully up at her.

“Goddess, I thank thee,” he intoned and Kiara found herself nodding, though she had to fight the numbness that held her body in its grasp to do so.

Centaurs. She was surrounded by centaurs. She had fallen on a Centaur.

“You’re — you’re welcome?” she stammered, and again a roar of victory filled the air. For the first time in her life, Kiara wished she was the type to faint because she could not believe what she was seeing. Centaurs. She had landed in a bunch of fucking centaurs.

She wanted her money back.

About Stephanie Burke

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

Find her online: Facebook | Twitter

How Not to Date a Human by Stephanie Burke #paranormalromance @FlashyCat

Oh why, oh why did the condom break?

Now McCabe is stuck explaining to an unamused Spooky how an alien virus has introduced her to the world of shifters. But everything should be fine so long as she avoids her lovelorn boss and takes her new situation and the shifter support group seriously. Matters of the heart are a tricky thing, especially when you decide to date a human.

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

SNEAK PEEK

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Stephanie Burke

He thought of the ring still sitting in his pants’ pocket and almost cackled in glee. His plan was working, just not in the order he’d devised.

First, he was supposed to delight her with his culinary skills, which shocked most people. After all, who ever thought that a construction worker/show magician would do anything more than lift weights and practice sleight of hand? But he could cook, and the four-course meal he had produced more than proved it.

The next thing was confession. He had a doozy of a secret, bound to make any normal woman run screaming from the room. But his Spooky wasn’t normal — well, not average, at any rate.

Spooky Love was the best thing that ever happened to him. He met her when he and his crew were hired to design office space at a scientific lab called Deci Corp a little more than two years ago. His boss, knowing he held a master’s degree in engineering, felt he could bridge the gap between the layman and the academic elite when it came to explaining the cans and cannots of their plan. At one of these meetings he met Ms. Spooky Love, who had three master’s degrees and a disdain for anything or anyone not giving their all.

She had taken one look at his written proposal and wondered aloud why he wasn’t publishing. “Publish or die,” she reminded him, and he found himself telling her of his academic burnout.

“At your age?” She sounded skeptical.

“I got my bachelor’s when I was thirteen, and then it was non-stop school, pressure from my peers when I was better than them, pressure from the schools who used me like a poster child for their training techniques, and finally not being credited for my theories because my academic advisor felt I was too young to understand what my name going on a study could mean. I found myself standing on the roof of the science building with the intent to take a long walk when I was almost beaned with a brick. I mean, not a small ornamental one, but a huge frigging foundation type brick. Then I noticed how ill put together the building actually was. So I came down off the ledge, put in a safety complaint with the powers that be, and walked off campus. I was twenty-two when I discovered that I felt a lot better about using my intelligence if I could make it so no buildings would collapse on people, and that was that. I never looked back.”

Spooky thought his story was interesting enough to learn more over lunch, and then dinner, and then breakfast.

He’d thought she would complete her intellectual slumming and then move on, leaving him a little colder but grateful for the opportunity to get up close and personal with her, but within a month, shared breakfast was a common occurrence.

That she moved in with him was a miracle, and that she stayed was a blessing he never discounted.

So, almost a year later, he knew Spooky was the one woman he would spend the rest of his life loving.

And that was step three of his plan. But that kind of got sidetracked when he presented her favorite dessert. She made such erotic noises consuming the creme brulee that he had to take advantage.

 

About the Author

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

Stalk the author online at…

#NewRelease – How Not to Date a Bear by Stephanie Burke #shifters @FlashyCat

How Not to Date a Bear (How Not To 5)Declan Batalova is a bear unlike any other. After brokering a deal that will keep his people safe in their new country, the Russian shifter goes for relaxation in a new club that caters to bears.

Cosmetologist Gillian Leekey is a woman on a mission. She loves big, muscular, hairy men, and Declan is perfect in every way.

But after one night of passion, the Bear Shifter Mafia is declaring war at her front door! When did life get so complicated? But that’s what happens when you decide to date a bear.

Now Available at Changeling Press

 

 

SNEAK PEEK:

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Stephanie Burke

“I’m a bear.”

“You most certainly are.” Gillian licked her lips as she stared at one of the most impossibly huge men she had ever seen. Imposing was too weak a word to describe this mountain of perfection. And the slight accent was just the icing on the cake. “But I have to see more to be sure.”

He quirked one eyebrow, but then smiled at her, showing off dazzlingly white smile teeth. Oh, yeah, this man was perfect. And he was a man, not a boy like so many of the posers — or should she call them cubs? — in this club. Either way, this man stood head and shoulders above the rest of them.

His hair was cropped short. Not military short, but short enough to be respectable and still show a little curl. He had a five o’clock shadow that was looking more like ten o’clock shadow, it was so heavy. But it definitely wasn’t a beard, just a thick growth of daily facial hair. His shoulders were broad to the point of straining the seams of his custom-made charcoal silk dress shirt. It had to be custom. Nothing she’d seen on the rack of any big and tall men’s shop was broad enough to fit his body so perfectly. Even his pleated black dress pants had to be tailored, his thighs were so thick and well developed.

He was visibly not as young as most of the other bears in the Bear With Me club. It was her first time here, and if there were more like him, she would go home and beat her head against a wall for missing out on this place’s delights for so long.

Gillian was an unabashed bear lover. There was no shame in her game. So long as her lover didn’t have an excess of back hair, she was so there. Of course, personality had a lot to do with her selection of a partner, but the first thing she noticed was the build of the man and the amount and type of hair he sported.

God, she loved a hairy chest. And contrary to popular belief, it could be too curly or too long. Chest hair had to be soft and plentiful, not too thick and not too invasive. She loved hair, but she did not rejoice in picking it out of her teeth. A thick mat of pubic hair was a major no-no in her book. Ferreting through a curly forest of the stuff to find her tasty treats was not her idea of a good time.

The more mature the man, the better. She’d had her fill of young idiots wasting her time. She wanted a man — a real man, a hairy man — and the one standing before her with one dark eyebrow quirked more than fit the bill. “More?”

“The shirt, Doll-Face,” she all but purred, nearly dancing in anticipation.

“You want to see me without my shirt?” He looked more amused than offended, his bright green eyes sparkling.

“Yes, please.” She batted her eyelashes. “I really do.”

“And if I show you?” His voice had dropped to a husky growl that made her toes tingle. She could get off on that voice alone.

“If you have the right to call yourself a bear, I will know.”

“And then?” he asked, definitely amused now. His eyes, a beautiful green sparking with gold highlights, crinkled at the corners. “If I really am a bear like I claim?”

“Then I’m going to take you home.” She moved closer to him, close enough to feel the heat wafting off his body, close enough to inhale the musky scent of him that smelled, oddly enough, of vanilla and sugar. “And then I am going to do unspeakable things to your body.” She had no idea what was wrong with her. She had never felt this hot for anyone before. There was something special about him.

“Unspeakable?” His voice sent rumbling vibrations from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head. She suddenly found it hard to breathe as he loomed over her.

“Oh, yeah.” She resisted the urge to rub her thighs together as her body reacted to his closeness in a gush of wet heat in her panties. “Unspeakable.”

“Then by all means.” He smirked as his large, rough-looking hands with their long fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt and let the smooth silk slide down his arms, catching at his wrists.

“Oh, sweet mercy,” Gillian breathed, her eyes filling with heat she could not hide as she took in the broad expanse of hairy chest right before her eyes.

 

About the Author:

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

Stalk Stephanie Online: Changeling Press | Facebook | Twitter

 

 

New Today at Changeling Press #NewReleases #RomanceBooks @willaokati @prowlingpiper @isyjordanauthor

It Takes Three (Doctor, Doctor 2)

Geoff’s a medical student. Hardworking, driven, tightly wound as an entire mattress factory’s worth of bedsprings. Ross is a med student too, but unless it’s got to do with math or science he has no idea what’s going on. He kind of likes it that way. It’s peaceful. Aurélien’s a med student as well. Uber-calm, uber-zen, uber-practical.

The three don’t know each other, but with study burnout and big exams coming up fast, they’re all in desperate need of some R & R. And what better way, proposes Aurélien, than getting a little action? Together. Multiple times, and in multiple ways. Sounds a little nuts to Geoff, but he’d rather his head not explode before he’s licensed. And Ross, well, he’s up for anything if it sounds like fun.

To their surprise and pleasure, once they get started these guys “work” well together. Very much so. Maybe a little too much so. Aren’t things like this supposed to be hard? Sometimes, sure. But in this case, the answer to all their questions is three.

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

Get it Today

#LGBT #MedicalRomance #ContemporaryRomance

 

 

The Hunting Party (Dusk & Dawn 2)

Maxim would love nothing more than to marry the woman he loves, in peace and without distractions, but a series of uncanny murders in the hunter’s city demands his attention.

Meanwhile, Heath is excited to plan Maxim’s and Robyn’s wedding. While he does that, he will have to learn to make time for his own budding relationship with Brian.

When Robyn’s bachelorette party ends in more murder, no one is happy. Yet all are willing to combine their efforts to end the bloodshed for good, so the wedding can be had, along with a happily-ever-after.

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

Get it Today

#DarkFantasy #RomCom #LGBTQ

 

Dusty Mile (Duet) (Dusty Mile 3)

In a world where humans are prey, new rules for love are still evolving…

Charmer: Caroline McGrath is thrilled to find another survivor of the zombie apocalypse — until she realizes he’s Robbie Huston, the only guy she ever had a one-night stand with. Now they’re depending on each other for their very survival. When they find Tyler, another survivor, everything gets more complicated. Now Caroline’s now got twice as much to lose… Will she be able to hold on to both her men once they reach Robbie’s uncle at Dusty Mile?

Dusty Mile Survival Guide: Against all odds, Caroline and Robbie have made it safely to Uncle Larry’s Dusty Mile Camp. Uncle Larry wants his new camp members to start a garden in an effort to reestablish a food supply, but Caroline can kill a plant by looking at it. Robbie decides Caroline’s just not properly motivated. Some plowing of a different kind might be just the thing to get this project growing!

Publisher’s Note: Charmer and Dusty Mile Survivor Guide were previously published individually by Changeling Press.

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

Get it Today

#Zombies #MultiplePartners #DarkFantasy

 

Silver Falls (Duet) (Silver Falls 3)

In the magical town of Silver Falls, things are never what they seem.

One Magickal Moment: Cerridwen Obrey is a witch, but that doesn’t mean she knows much about other paranormals. When a chance encounter with a handsome hunk of a werewolf leaves her pregnant, Cerri doesn’t expect to ever see the man again. Kade’s far from ready to be a father, but when a one-night stand turns into a chance at the family he’s never had, he realizes Cerri may be exactly what he needs to make his life complete. But will he be too late?

Love’s Magick Kiss: When Hadley lost her beautiful twin daughters to a drunk driver, she thought her life was over. Though she’s still haunted by their loss, Lucas has always been there for her. When her hunky neighbor finally asks her out, she knows saying yes is the right thing to do. But he’s more than just a big teddy bear. Is it safe to trust her heart to a grizzly?

Publisher’s Note: One Magickal Moment and Love’s Magick Kiss were previously published individually by Changeling Press.

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

Get it Today

#ParanormalRomance #Shifters

 

Falling for the Single Dad by Whitley Cox #RomCom #Eroticromance

Title: Falling for the Single Dad
Series: The Single Dads of Seattle
Author: Whitley Cox
Genre: Rom/Com, Single Dad, Erotic Romance
Release Date: June 13, 2020

When a blast from the past could blow up the future. 
Welcome to Seattle, the Emerald City and home to The Single Dads of Seattle. Ten sexy single fathers who play poker every Saturday night, have each other’s backs, love their children without quarter, and hope to one day find love again. 
This is Liam’s story … 
Single Dad of Seattle, Liam Dixon has a kick-*ss life. He’s a successful divorce attorney with a great kid, and an ongoing Wednesday night no-strings booty call. But seeing his fellow single dads fall in love and happier than ever, he begins to question his own life. He wants more with Richelle. A future. Finally ready to sweep Richelle off her feet, a woman who broke his heart over twenty years ago unexpectedly knocks on his door desperate for his help.
Single mom, Richelle LaRue might not be five-feet-tall, but her personality and strength are that of an Amazon. She takes no prisoners and gives zero f*cks. A damn good divorce attorney, she won’t let any man push her around, including Liam and his ridiculous idea of a “relationship.” If it’s not broke, don’t fix it. With her past behind her, life is finally good and she’s determined to give her daughter a bright and shiny future.
But when Liam’s ex shows up, her story rocks Richelle to her core, and she and Liam take the woman’s case. What should be a simple divorce suddenly turns dangerous. Richelle finds herself–and those she loves–caught in the crossfire while Liam is torn between the past and the present, with their future dangling precariously in the balance.
 
Can Richelle let down her walls and trust when everything she holds dear is threatened, or will finally falling for the single dad be more than her heart can bear?
 
**Note: This book can be read as a standalone. It includes lots of steamy scenes, cursing, and of course as with all my books, this has an HEA and no cliffhanger or cheating. If you like single dads who take charge, this book is for you.
“Have you seen my underwear?” she asked, her hawklike amber eyes scanning the bedroom floor. “Hot pink G-string.” Her lips spread, revealing perfect teeth and a salacious feline smile. “One of your faves, I believe.”
“You mean these?” he asked, his teeth now clenched around one of the strings.
She glanced up at him, her socks and shirt in her hand. “Those would be them, yes.”
He plucked the G-string from his teeth and held them on one finger. “Come get them.”
His eyebrows bobbed in a way that easily conveyed the payment required for retrieving her underwear.
That mouth he knew like the back of his own hand continued to smile. “No time, stud. I have a deposition at nine this morning. Can’t be late if I intend to kill it. Then I’m off to Mallory’s school for career day.” She grumbled, “How fun is that going to be? Going to a school and telling five-hundred-plus kids how rewarding it is being a divorce attorney …”
She wandered around to the side of the bed and bent down, giving him the ultimate view of her cleavage. He slipped his free hand into one of her cups until he found a nipple and tugged. The moan that rumbled in her chest told him she might not have the time, but she’d certainly make it.
Her lips hovered above his. “I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” He lunged forward and took her bottom lip between his teeth.
She groaned, and her eyes squeezed shut. He could see her resistance crumbling. Feel the heat of her body and the way it radiated off her in a new way, a way he’d come to recognize and respond to primitively. The woman was a sexually charged animal. She also took control in the bedroom most of the time—which Liam had no qualms with—and by the time they parted ways Thursday morning, he was exhausted, achy, drained and happy as fuck.
But he also knew how to make his lioness purr. He knew how to make her roll over to her back, show her belly and become a playful kitten.

 

To look at her, you’d never expect the four-foot-eleven woman with short blonde hair, hawklike eyes, and the arms of a professional MMA fighter to be as fierce as she was. She reminded him of Tinker Bell—with an ax to grind. Hence, the nickname Tink or Tinker Bell that he’d given her ages ago. He’d even gone so far as to buy her a Tinker Bell costume one time (a sexy one, of course), and he wore a generic pirate’s costume for a little bit of role-playing.

 

A Canadian West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have two beautiful daughters and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn’t end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it’s not quite wine o’clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes.
 
A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With single dads, firefighters, Navy SEALs, mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role-playing, Whitley’s books have all the funny and fabulously filthy words you could hope for.

 

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Book Blitz: Grave Humor by R.J. Blain #paranormalromance

Grave Humor
R.J. Blain
(Magical Romantic Comedies #10)
Publication date: May 12th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Paranormal, Romance

Most days, Anwen regrets working at a funeral home despite the good pay. With the residents no longer inclined to stay in their coffins where they belong, she’s got her hands full making sure everyone follows the rules:

In the funeral home, there is no screaming, no murdering, no mutilation, no possessions, no kidnappings, no resurrections, and no cursing of any type. Be quiet and stay polite.

The day Old Man McGregor decides to take a walk and disturbs her peace, Anwen learns there’s a lot more to the basement in the funeral home than a vampire and a handsome gentleman on ice.

If she’s not careful, she’ll learn first-hand why ‘eternally yours’ is the most potent of threats.

Warning: this novel contains romance, humor, bodies, shenanigans, and mythological puppies. Proceed with caution.

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EXCERPT:

Lemon smelled so much better than rot. As far as the restless dead went, Old Man McGregor hadn’t left me with too much of a mess to clean. He’d stayed mostly intact, limiting his oozing to a spot here and there. It took me twenty minutes to erase the evidence he’d gotten out of his coffin and taken a walk.

Five minutes later, Direct Hammel and his merry band of somberly dressed assistants arrived. Why did Direct Hammel need four men to stand around? Most viewings, even the big ones where the whole town showed up, only needed two attendants. The rest of the time, I could handle the work without any help at all.

While the viewings sometimes had upwards of the town’s full three hundred people, I couldn’t think of a single funeral with more than twenty attendees since I’d started working at the place. The old stayed, the young left, and with a world full of magic to discover, who wanted to stay in Sunset, Alabama? If my college fund hadn’t been bled dry on drugs and hookers, I would’ve been on the first bus out along with the other six seniors in my class.

“Any problems?” the director asked, sniffing the air.

I bet he smelled the lemon and wanted to know why I’d been cleaning. “No problems,” I replied. Any other day, Old Man McGregor rising and coming out of his coffin for a chat would’ve counted as a problem, but I was too worn and tired to care. Like with all things, problems were relative. If the restless dead hiding in his coffin decided to cause a problem, I’d back up and watch the fireworks. “I finished my other work for the morning, so I cleaned to make certain everything was ready for the viewing, sir.”

“Good job. Our clients will arrive soon. We’ll handle the rest from here. Mr. McGregor’s family is rather conservative, so if you could handle inventorying and cleaning the preparation and refrigeration rooms, that would be useful. Otherwise, go home.”

I didn’t need a diploma to read the writing on the wall. If I went home, I wouldn’t be invited back to work, which meant someone hadn’t done their job cleaning the basement.

The funeral home went through inspections once a month to keep its license, and we were due to have a government worker poking around the place. Plastering a smile on my face, I nodded. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me, sir.”

“Good. Call the main line if there are any problems.”

Once again, I read the writing on the wall: if I had any problems during the viewing, I would be in need of a new job.

I struggled to maintain a neutral, professional expression. To keep guests from wandering into the restricted parts of the funeral home, Director Hammel locked the stairwell door and turned off the lift. I’d spend the next six hours in the basement. After the surge of restless dead and corpse possessions, the funeral home boasted reinforced lower level walls and doors, fashioned of a mix of concrete and steel to keep the bodies contained should they decide to get up and take a walk.

Fortunately, excluding Old Man McGregor, we only had two bodies in storage, and John Doe had been in our freezer since before I’d been born. If he decided to get up, they’d hear my screams in the next state. While the rules kept changing, one thing stayed the same: the older the corpse, the stronger the undead it became. I hadn’t seen Mr. Doe, but I sometimes heard Director Hammel talk about him in hushed, fearful tones.

Nothing scared Director Hammel except our John Doe.

The other body we had didn’t worry anyone; the vampire wasn’t going anywhere until someone reattached his limbs and revived him with a lot of blood. I wasn’t sure why we kept the vampire on ice, but someone from the CDC came once a month, along with the funeral home inspector, to make sure he remained as alive as an undead got. I’d gotten to take a look at the vampire, as Director Hammel wanted to make certain I knew to avoid the sleepers in the freezer.

All in all, I didn’t care about either corpse. Unless I put my throat to the vampire’s mouth, he couldn’t hurt me. As for John Doe, I wasn’t sure what I thought about him.

While I wanted to curse over my foul luck, I kept smiling, grabbed my purse and coat, and descended into the basement. I made it all of two steps before the lock clicked behind me.

“Asshole,” I muttered, shaking my head and reaching for switches. I flipped three of the five, bathing the stairwell and landing below in a yellowed light. The stench of embalming fluid burned my nose, and I turned on the ventilation fans so I wouldn’t suffocate before the end of the viewing.

When I found out who had left the basement a reeking hell hole, there’d be a third body in the freezer. In prison, I could study and pretend I had a future, and I’d do so on the government’s dime until they kicked me out and made me finish my term doing community service. Curling my lip in a snarl, I stomped down the steps and aimed for the disposal bin meant for the latex gloves. I caught it with my foot and launched the damned thing through the open doorway.

It crashed onto the metal table bolted to the preparation room floor.

“What’s the fucking point of having a three-inch thick containment door if it’s open all the time? I’m surrounded by brain-dead idiots.”

“Yes, you are,” a husky, deep voice replied. “I was wondering who they’d sacrifice to me first. I knew the scarecrow would hide, but I thought he’d betray the whiner first. How disappointing.”


Author Bio:

RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied.

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Release Blitz: The Cupid Crawl by Hank Edwards #LGBTQ #RomCom @hanksbooks

Title: The Cupid Crawl

Series: A Williamsville Inn Story (can be read as a stand alone)

Author: Hank Edwards

Publisher: Startled Monkeys Media

Release Date: 4/20/2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 189 pages

Genre: Romance, romantic comedy

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Synopsis

What happens when a confirmed hook up app user falls for a man who is his polar opposite?

Carter Walsh will be alone on Valentine’s Day, and his plans include a candy sampler of hook ups.
But after learning about the Cupid Crawl—a bar crawl covering a half dozen bars, gay and straight—he changes his plans.

During the crawl, he runs into:

An ex-co-worker nemesis who resurrects—loudly—an unfortunate nickname she bestowed upon him years before.

Several hot men eager for a quick hook up.

And one man absolutely not Carter’s type, but who manages to pique his interest and, possibly, steal his heart.

The Cupid Crawl is a funny, sweet, and steamy opposites attract, slight age gap story that takes place in the Williamsville Inn series world, and features characters from the Christmas stories “Snowflakes and Song Lyrics” by Hank Edwards and “Snowstorms and Second Chances” by Brigham Vaughn.

Excerpt

The organizer, Vic, led the way, squeezing past the men and women standing in the doorway and forging a path for Carter to follow. At first, Carter thought he was way overdressed. The men he slid past were shirtless, some wearing just white loin cloths or even cloth diapers along with feathered wings strapped around their broad chests. These men gave him a brief glance, maybe a quick smile, but were busy talking to each other or women who were also baring a lot of skin. Didn’t these people realize it was February in Boston?

When he reached the bar, Carter was relieved to see people wearing shirts and pants instead of just diapers and short shorts. Vic leaned in over the bar and said to the bartender, “Don, this is my good friend, Carter. Put his first two drinks on my tab.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Carter insisted. “I have money.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Carter,” Vic said. “The first two drinks are on me to help you relax. I’m going to make a round of the bar, but when I return, I hope to find you talking with someone, and not just leaning on the bar all alone.”

“I know how to socialize,” Carter said.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.”

Vic winked again before threading his way through the crowd, greeting people as he slid past them. Carter ordered a beer from Don, and then fished a couple of singles out of his wallet for a tip. He lifted his bottle to salute Don and had just taken a swig when a piercingly high voice shrieked from just behind him. The sound startled him so much he choked on his beer and started to cough. He turned, coughing and sputtering, and squinted through his tears at the woman standing behind him.

Auburn hair done up tall, bright green eyes that could be nothing other than colored contact lenses, a pert, upturned nose, and a broad mouth filled with teeth laser-whitened to solar flare level.

Carter’s heart stuttered with surprise and dread as he struggled to clear his airway.

“I saw you walk in and had to come over and see if it was really you!” she exclaimed.

With a final clearing of his throat, Carter managed a smile and said, “Lizzie. Hello! What a treat to see you.”

Lizzie’s smile widened even further and she crossed her arms. It was then Carter noticed she wore what looked like a sports bra with a pair of white wings strapped to her shoulders, and a sheer white shift around her waist that showed off a pair of black panties trimmed with lace.

“As I live and breathe,” Lizzie said with a shake of her head. “Carter the Farter.”

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Meet the Author

Hank Edwards (he/him) has been writing gay fiction for more than twenty years. He has published over thirty novels and dozens of short stories. His books fall into many sub-genres, including romance, rom-com, contemporary, paranormal, suspense, mystery, and wacky comedy. He has written a number of series such as the suspenseful Up to Trouble, funny and spooky paranormal out for you gay romance Critter Catchers, Old West historical horror of Venom Valley, the erotic and funny Fluffers, Inc. series, and the funny and thrilling Lacetown Murder Mysteries series co-written with Deanna Wadsworth. No matter what genre he writes, Hank likes to keep things sweet, steamy, and fun. He was born and still lives in a northwest suburb of the Motor City, Detroit, Michigan, where he shares a home with his partner of over 20 years and their two cats.

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The Hunter’s Bride by Alexa Piper #paranormalromance #vampires @prowlingpiper

The Hunter's Bride (Dusk & Dawn 1)

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

 

Maxim, tall, whimsical, and a vampire, wants to hire a curator for his art collection. Robyn, a newly minted art historian looking for a job, loves fine art and old stuff, and Maxim soon realizes she is not just perfect for the job, but also for him.

Robyn never liked prejudices against vampires, werewolves, or Fae, but the moment she starts working for a vampire, things appear less black and white, especially when she begins to fall for her new boss.

Robyn and Maxim’s young love will have to overcome odds and odd vampires who take issue with the fact that Maxim happens to be a vampire hunter who doesn’t shy away from decapitating his own kind.

 

Get it today at Changeling Press
or preorder for May 15th at retailers

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Alexa Piper

Brian seemed to be slipping. He’d called up to tell Maxim of the interviewee’s arrival only about twenty seconds before the elevator had dinged, which barely gave Maxim the time to refresh his memory in regard to her name.

Heath had left a file on his desk titled Interviews, and Maxim had complained at the sheer lack of imagination that was obvious in that title. Heath had used magic marker to write it, though, and Maxim had wondered, out loud, if Heath had missed the developmental stage crayons were clearly meant for. Upon which Heath had broken into verbiage that came odorously dripping from the verbiage gutter. Heath had informed him that he, Maxim, best not pull any of this bodily refuse with the artsy people. They were, after all, artsy people and not likely to enjoy such shenanigans, at least if Heath’s soliloquy was to be believed. It was a shame the creativity he had displayed in his colorful speech had not translated into the simplistic title of the file that had sparked it.

“Robyn with a y,” Maxim mumbled to himself as he walked toward the elevators. “Y, y, y… Why would whiskey-vending witches want vigor with their witchy wits?” He pushed a strand of his hair back behind his shoulder and put on a smile. He could smell the interviewee even before he saw her, some perfume he didn’t know, light and floral, forgettable as Valentine’s Days spent alone. The scent underneath that was sunshine-warmed skin, a slight note of crushed cardamom pods. A shame to hide that with such perfume.

When Maxim laid eyes on the interviewee, he could feel his pupils spill black, and he immediately understood why Brian had taken so long to pick up the phone. Robyn with a y Somerton was gorgeous, though very much on the skinny side, always something that made Maxim’s memories of hunger float back to the surface of his mind, no matter how long ago that had been. Her hair was dark and wonderful, lush ebony, and her gray eyes and pale skin made her deep purple dress look even better on her. But damn it, he had promised Heath.

“Miss Somerton, thanks for coming in for the interview. My name is Maxim Vallois. I believe you talked to my assistant over the phone?” Now, there’s some perfect manners for you right there, Heath. If only that dhampire brat were here to see it.

The shock on her face at seeing Maxim and realizing what he was would have been amusing, should have been amusing, but for the first time in decades, Maxim felt futile fury at the reaction rise inside of him. She did go a shade paler, though, which was pretty.

“Y-yes. About the curator position?” she said, catching herself rather quickly and reining her expression back into normal. Maxim liked her voice. It was calm, not shrill. Heath sometimes brought home shrill, and that was usually headache inducing, rhetorically speaking. Maxim did not actually get headaches.

“Certainly. Please, come in.” Part of him wondered whether she would run. She was wearing terrible heels for that, and because he cared and paid attention, Maxim was pretty sure she was already headed for at least one blister on her left heel. Maxim had never understood heels, nor foot binding. He had understood what it said about having power over women, but he’d loathed that, loathed that society made it necessary for women to give that power.

Not the time to wax philosophical, Maxim reminded himself. Heath, if he were here and not away doing something that had to do with banks and money, would have been seething in the acid of his own glaring stares already. Stares glare glistening staffs of seeping solace. Not my best one, Maxim thought.

Robyn with a y came forward. Clearly she had decided running would be stupid. Mmh, Heath. Did you get me a final girl? Maxim filed that as a nice line for later. When he would tell Heath he wanted Robyn with a y. He wasn’t even sure why. It sure as bodily refuse wasn’t the cheap perfume, and it wasn’t the mildly scrawny look that Maxim found mildly headache inducing. Perhaps it was that stare of not quite fear but close enough to fear. Or lust at first sight? Who knows. Whatever the why, Maxim wanted her.

Of course Maxim couldn’t just spring this on Y Robyn. It would sound as if he were planning to make her a plaything, something Maxim knew good and well vampires did. He could go off on a whole other tangent about that nasty habit. He had to at least give Y Robyn the impression she had won the job, and of course he needed to be able to tell Heath as well, so he led her to the cluttered table he had lovingly prepared for the magic marker interview.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Y Robyn said when he shook her hand. “You know how fickle the subway can be.”

“I don’t, actually. But it’s no trouble. This way.” He made a mental note of checking out the subway. It might be fun, ethnologically speaking.

When Y Robyn saw his table, she summed it up wonderfully concisely. “Wow,” she said, and Maxim glanced at her saucer wide eyes and at the appealing slackness of her drooping jaw.

 

About Alexa Piper

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Her retelling of Dracula, A Tale of Honey and Garnet Wine, might be a cursed manuscript, and every writer should have at least one of those. She also loves writing series, and her Fairview Chronicles follow a ragtag gang of supernaturals who try to make their city safer. Mostly. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter!

Alexa at Changeling Press | Website| Facebook

 

How Not to Date an Alien by Stephanie Burke #RomCom #SciFiRomance @FlashyCat

How Not to Date an Alien (How Not To 1)

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

 

Kilana knows what her eyes are telling her can’t be true.

There’s a naked man in her bed and he’s glowing. And then there are the solid black eyes, the floating several feet above the bed, and the most damning of all… he has antennas.

The newly divorced Kilana thinks she’s seeing things, but when he opens his mouth and tells her he’s hunting humans and his intentions are to devour her, Kilana knows she has an alien problem.

But who will help her get away from the admittedly sexy creature that wants her pleasured and fattened until her flavor is perfect? Maybe her hair-brained friends Se and Lena can help her avoid the big suppertime cut…

Or maybe she’s on her own with the drooling, leering, orgasm-delivering fiend. And maybe dating an alien won’t turn out to be as big a problem as she thinks.

 

Get it today at Changeling Press

Only $0.99!

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Stephanie Burke

“You have antennas.” Kilana peered closely at the man who was resting rather comfortably beside her on her bed. Somehow, he made the huge California King feel like a college dorm twin.

“And you do not,” he helpfully pointed out, with a black-lipped grin that made his spiky white teeth look all the more deadly.

And, of all things, his long black hair was tied back into a braid that seemed to snake around his firm, pale body. His eyes were a solid black, too, and she was sure if she weren’t so hung over, she would probably be screaming bloody murder right about now.

And the man was naked.

There was only one explanation for this phenomenon. She was still drunk.

“I’m going to close my eyes and count to ten,” she whispered, her head not willing to take even the shock of her own voice raised to a normal conversational tone. “And when I open them, you are not going to be here. Do you understand?”

He nodded his head sadly, pouting a bit. But she hardened her heart. She didn’t have time for imaginary beings in her bed. She was a newly divorced woman, and she had things to do.

Like maybe wake up sober and get her divorce papers framed and gilded.

She peered at him again and had to blink fast and swallow hard. He had the biggest eyes she had ever seen. Those large, liquid eyes were solid black; there was no white at all.

It appeared that all the white seemed to have leaked out into his pale skin. It was kind of a molten silver, rather uncommon but certainly not too abnormal for a figment.

But his head nodding was making her dizzy.

“Don’t nod.” She swallowed again, holding onto a moan with the persistence of a clinging vine of ivy. “You’re making me seasick. God, you’d think that my own figment wouldn’t be so monochromatic as to cause seasickness. I thought I had more imagination.”

So she closed her eyes, inhaled softly, exhaled long, and started counting.

One figment two many. Three reasons to never drink again four any reason. Five senses going crazy, and six is the devil’s number to remind me to stick to seven, heaven’s number, unless it is the number of tequila shots. I should not have eight the worm thing last night and nine martinis are more than enough, especially at ten dollars a glass.”

She opened her eyes, but the very pale and very monochromatic creature was still lying next to her in bed.

“You’re still here,” she moaned, dropping her head back onto the pillows.

“Yes, I am,” he replied, before reaching out with one finger — one finger with the longest black fingernail she had ever seen. “And I will be here for a while.”

He tapped her on the nose, and she knew her eyes were crossing as she stared at his finger, but that was one awesomely sharp-looking talon.

“Doing what?” she asked, wondering if it was insanity to talk to an obviously drug-induced creature from her boring imagination.

Maybe someone had slipped her Special K. Ketamine was said to produce very believable hallucinations in users. Maybe someone had slipped her some and had their wicked way with her prone, helpless body.

Then again, maybe not.

She thought about it for a second, and none of her girl parts seemed particularly sore. Her va-jay-jay felt normal and unused as usual. No odd taste in her mouth, other than stale beer and regret —

“I am hunting.”

“Yeah.” She scrunched her nose and thought for a moment. “That makes sense. Hunting, in my bed, while totally naked. Yes, that makes perfect sense.”

He remained silent and smiling, showing off that mouth filled with fangs.

“Okay, no, it doesn’t.” She winced at the lancing pain in her head. “What exactly are you supposed to be hunting in my bed at –” She glanced out the window, noting it was still night. “–o-dark-thirty? Tell me that, Mr. Monochromatic Figment of My Imagination.”

“I am not a figment.” He stopped smiling. “And my coloring is very nice for my people. It is considered very attractive.”

“I’ve hurt my figment’s feelings.” She groaned, rolled over and closed her eyes again in an attempt to make him go away. But when she opened her eyes, he was still there and waiting to speak.

“I don’t have feelings in the way that you mean.” He pouted prettily.

“Of course not,” she allowed, wondering when she had actually slipped around the bend into insanity.

“And I am not a figment. I am a Scrimtat from Veta Belga.”

“Scrimtat, sure,” she spoke around a yawn. “I can tell by your very black lips and your very black hair.”

“My tongue is black, too. See?” And he stuck out the longest black, forked tongue this side of a freak show.

“I can see why I dreamed you up.” Her voice went thready. “Each fork in your tongue operates individually?”

She had to know. There were so many things she could imagine him doing with that…

 

More from Stephanie Burke at Changeling Press …

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.