The Fixer Upper by Maggie Mae Gallagher #NewRelease #Contemporary #RomanceBooks @magmaegallagher 

 

Praise for The Fixer Upper:

“Maggie Mae Gallagher writes with warmth and a wonderfully compelling voice – I loved The Fixer Upper!” NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR HEATHER GRAHAM

“Maggie Mae Gallagher makes the reader forget the actual words on the page so they can just enjoy the story as it unfolds.” Nancy Berland, NBPR, Inc. President

 

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Abby Callier is more in love with Shakespearean heroes than any real man, and she’s beginning to wonder if there is life for her outside the pages of a book. It doesn’t help that her esteemed parents tend to view her as they would one of their science experiments gone wrong. On the eve of finishing her dissertation, she escapes her staid existence to live in the house she inherited from her Great Aunt Evie in the small town of Echo Springs, Colorado. Because, let’s face it, when a woman starts comparing her life to horror films, it might be time for a break.

Sheriff Nate Barnes believes in law and order and carefully building the life you want. In his spare time, he has been remodeling his house in the hope that one day it will be filled with the family he makes. But Nate doesn’t like drama or complications and tends to avoid them at all costs. And yet, when Miss Abigail Callier, his newest neighbor, beans him with a nine iron, he can’t help but wonder if she might just be the complication he’s been searching for all along. It doesn’t hurt that he discovers a journal hidden away by the previous tenant and decides to use Old Man Turner’s advice to romance Abby into his life.

Abby never expected her next-door neighbor, the newly dubbed Sheriff Stud Muffin, to be just the distraction her world needed. The problem is she doesn’t know whether she should make Echo Springs her home, or if this town is just a stopover point in her life’s trajectory. And she doesn’t want to tell Nate that she might not be sticking around—even though she should because it’s the right thing to do, the honest thing—because then all the scintillatingly hot kisses with the Sheriff will come to an abrupt halt. Did she mention that he’s a really great kisser?

Where to find a copy…

Amazon https://amzn.to/2kmZHUm
Amazon Print https://amzn.to/2ZAv3t4
Nook http://bit.ly/2wP9KUD
Kobo http://bit.ly/2NHFlCX
iBooks https://apple.co/2YImFE6
Books-A-Million http://bit.ly/2k2czPw
Indie Bound http://bit.ly/2lwwW7T

 

About Maggie Mae Gallagher…

Born in St. Louis, Missouri, Maggie grew up listening to Cardinals baseball and reading anything she could get her hands on. She remembers her mother saying if only she would read the right type of books instead binging her way through the romance aisles at the bookstore, she’d have been a doctor. While Maggie never did get that doctorate, she graduated cum laude from the University of Missouri-St. Louis with an M.A. in History.

Maggie is a bestselling and award-winning author published in multiple fiction genres. She also writes erotic romance under the name Anya Summers. A total geek at her core, when she is not writing, she adores attending the latest comic con or spending time with her family. She currently lives in the Midwest with her two furry felines.

Find Maggie on Social Media:

Facebook

Instagram

Goodreads

Twitter: @magmaegallagher 

Amazon

BookBub

 

Get Off My Cloud by Anne Kane #RomCom #NewRelease #AlternateUniverse @changelingpress @AnneKane

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Six months ago, Lucas met the woman of his dreams, but after a night of amazing sex he woke up to find himself alone. Sent to rescue the daughter of a billionaire from her own folly, he discovers her to be the same woman, and this time he intends to make sure she stays put.

When Olivia discovers a herd of live dinosaurs existing on a small island in the South Pacific, she’s ecstatic. This discovery could crown her career as a paleontologist and put to rest the rumors that her daddy bought her position for her! Of course, when her father sends someone to drag her home, she’s not willing to comply and the couple must find a way to deal with the sizzling attraction between them while running from a herd of angry prehistoric beasts.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or pre-order for September 13th at retailers

 

   

 

Praise for Get Off My Cloud (Set in Stone)

“I really enjoyed this story – how it turned the tables on the usual “love ‘em and leave ‘em” style of man. I really enjoyed both Lucas’ and Olivia’s characters. A quick and steamy read, this was a fun short story.”

— Fern, Long and Short Reviews

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Anne Kane

The voyage had been rougher than Lucas had expected. The fishing trawler he’d rented to get himself from the mainland over to the small island where the target was located had bucked and heaved on the choppy waters, at times threatening to turn itself upside down. Not an ideal ride, but it did the job. He was on the island. Now all he needed to do was locate his employer’s daughter and convince her to leave with him. Grabbing his backpack of supplies, he set out to find her.

Good thing the island was so small. As it was, it was past noon before he caught sight of a battered old canvas tent on the east side of a grassy meadow at the foot of a small hill. He made his way down to the bottom of the hill, cursing the lack of any kind of trail to follow. The low scrub bush that blanketed the area made foot travel slow going. Once he made it to the edge of the flat meadow, he paused to scout out the lay of the land. He wasn’t sure of the best way to approach the woman. She had no idea who he was, and she just might be armed. She would be perfectly justified in defending herself against an unknown male who suddenly showed up unannounced. The last thing he wanted was to engage in a shootout with his employer’s daughter.

Lucas pulled his field glasses out of his backpack and studied the base camp. Two facts immediately slammed into his disbelieving brain. Hard to tell which was more astounding. Firstly, those four-legged creatures stretching up to munch on the tops of the trees definitely did look like dinosaurs.

And secondly, Mr. Billionaire’s daughter was none other than the woman he’d spent one unbelievably fabulous night with almost half a year ago. The woman who’d seduced him, fucked him gloriously senseless and then disappeared before he managed to regain consciousness the following morning.

Hell, he’d started to think he’d dreamed the whole thing. No woman could be that gorgeously curvy, that amazingly good in bed, and then just leave without expecting anything at all from him. He hadn’t even taken her out for dinner. Or breakfast. Not that he was cynical or anything but women were expensive. They didn’t do anything without expecting some kind of payback, and they sure as hell didn’t do all the things she’d done for him and with him and to him without very high expectations.

So when she’d disappeared without a trace, he’d been speechless. Speechless and, if he were honest with himself, just a tiny bit bereft.

He’d wanted more. More of her. More of them together. Taking a deep breath, he strode across the field toward the woman who’d starred in all of his X-rated dreams for the past six months.

He could tell the exact moment she became aware of his presence. Her head came up like a deer who’d suddenly scented a predator. She turned in his direction, and her lips formed a surprised “o.”

Yeah. She remembered him all right. It was in her eyes, in the way the pink tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips, in the way her nostrils flared as if breathing itself had become an issue.

Her lips curved upward in that slow, sexy smile he remembered so well, and it sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin. Instant hard-on. Yeah. That was her, all right. Olivia. New-age hippie. The first woman to ever love him all night and leave him wanting more the next morning.

He was close enough now to look right into her eyes, to see the warmth there, the genuine happiness at seeing him again. He didn’t get it. She looked thrilled to see him now, so why had she left that morning without so much as a fleeting message, or a goodbye kiss?

 

More from Anne at Changeling Press …

Anne is a gorgeous supermodel who writes romance in her spare time while jetting around Europe with a string of boy-toys in tow.

Hmmm… no one is going to believe that. How about this?

Anne is an undercover agent for a super secret government agency and when not saving the world for democracy and all the good people, she writes romance one-handed on a special mini computer designed by a mad scientist just for her.

Yeah, that sounds way better. So, ignore the people who tell you she’s just an ordinary person with an extraordinary imagination. They’re just jealous because she gets to play with James Bond and vacation in exotic locations.

Honestly!

When she’s not busy saving the world or writing the next great novel, she likes to kayak, hike, ride motorcycles, swim, skate, practice karate, play her guitar, sing and of course, read.

You can find her online at:
Website: www.AnneKane.com
Blog: www.annekane.wordpress.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/annekane
Facebook: www.facebook.com/anne.kane.author

 

 

Sir Spanksalot by Alice Gaines #PNR #RomCom #scifi #NewRelease

Transported into her favorite game, SexScape, Maddy
meets a sexy devil named Sir Spanksalot. Really.

 

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Maddy’s “career” is in personal injury law, representing plaintiffs in silly lawsuits. To escape, she plays SexScape on her tablet computer. One night, after winning a particularly difficult level, she finds herself whooshed into the game itself and confronted by an indecently attractive man who claims his name is Sir Spanksalot. Spanking is not her thing, but blazing hot sex with Spanksalot is.

Spanksalot is sure The League has chosen this difficult but seductive woman to be his mate. Only two problems — she seems to be in love with a man named Samuel. And she has a hang-up about his specialty, spanking. Turns out Samuel is Maddy’s fantasy lover and no threat to Spanksalot. When Maddy discovers the fun of having her bottom gently paddled, the two of them become a match made in SexScape.

 

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or pre-order at retailers for August 30th

   

 

 

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Alice Gaines

Maddy’s game had a new character. She’d played SexScape long enough to hate the little guy with the crown zipping around on his motorcycle. He’d lost her more levels than she could remember, and if she ever got a chance to blast him with some evil weapon, she’d do it in a heartbeat. Only nothing she’d tried had worked on him yet, and she could scream obscenities at him all she wanted. He just kept showing up in the very worst parts of the display at the very worst times and ruining her shots.

But this morning, just as he’d started up with his mind-fuck, someone else had shown up. A woman, also tiny and also wearing a crown. The color of her motorcycle matched her outfit — fire-engine red. She did battle with the man — zigging when he zagged and replacing the tiles he’d destroyed so they arranged themselves in neat patterns that Maddy could fell with one or two moves.

“You go, sister,” Maddy cheered her hero on. For a while, she simply sat and watched the two perform their motorized dance from one side of the screen of her tablet to the other. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Maddy couldn’t tear herself away even though it meant being late for work… again. This was too fabulous to miss.

Then, the two of them went to opposite corners. The bikes engines revved, and they flew toward each other. When they met in the middle of the screen, a Screaming-O Bomb went off, and Maddy won level 1023.

Then the room began to spin around her as she fell into a dark tunnel. Nothingness closed around her — an almost complete lack of sensation. She was floating with no sense of up or down, backward or forward. Could the game have done this to her, or was she dreaming? If so, how could she wake herself up? She was supposed to do something, but what? Work, damn it. She was supposed to be at work.

Finally, a light showed in the distance, and she got a sense of direction. She was headed toward it. As it enlarged, she got a view of a landscape. Pretty. No, beautiful. Trees and grasses and sunlight. Warm. She could do worse than end up there, wherever there was.

When the dream or voyage ended, Maddy found herself on her ass in a shallow stream. All around her, tall trees of a kind she’d never seen before reached toward a cloudless sky. Pretty place, but the water wasn’t exactly a spa. More like a refrigerator.

She scrambled to get up, but the stones at the bottom of the stream were slick with water and moss, so she only ended up on her ass once more. Rather than try that exact maneuver again, she used her hands to push herself up and skittered on all fours to the side of the stream. There she found a flat rock warmed by the sun and took a seat to examine her surroundings.

She’d been here before, even though she’d never been any place like this. That made no sense, but neither did the transition she’d just experienced.

She’d been sitting at the table in the dining room in her apartment playing the stupid game that plagued her when, all of a sudden, whoosh… something had sucked her into the tunnel and dropped her here. Was this her prize for winning the latest diabolical level SexScape had used to torment her for weeks? If so, the reward ought to include some sex, even if imaginary. It wasn’t supposed to be a pleasant walk in the woods. Or cold splash, as the case might be.

Why did this place seem so familiar? An inner-city girl, she’d mostly visited trees in parks either close to home or at the end of a bus line. So, why did it seem she’d wandered beneath these trees along the side of the stream? Being here felt like living inside one of her dreams. Or…

No, not a dream. SexScape. She’d deliberately chosen the wilderness path in the game. She got enough city with constant noise and dirty air in her real life, thank you very much. So, she’d settled on woods and beaches and the occasional mountaintop. Scenery like what surrounded her right now.

Hoofbeats sounded in the distance, rapidly approaching where she sat. She got up from her seat on the rock and glanced around for a place to hide. The horse might be out for a run on its own, or it might have a rider. If she got a look at the person as they passed through, she could decide whether or not to call for help. In any case, discretion won out over valor, and she ducked behind one of the big trees.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, the horse and rider showed themselves. But they didn’t dash across the stream to continue on. The rider pulled up the reins, and the horse stopped, breathing hard and stamping a hoof as if impatient to keep going.

The rider — a man wearing a flowing black cape — held the reins tight and glanced all around. Truly, there wasn’t much to see of him because the cape covered him from his neck and over his body. It even draped over the horse’s hindquarters and rump. And the man’s head appeared no more than a shock of platinum hair. Finally, he turned toward her, and she got a brief glance at him before she had to plaster herself against the tree trunk again to hide.

That second or two revealed the most beautiful male face she’d ever laid eyes on. Blue eyes, full lips, and a devil’s smile exposing even white teeth.

“Ah, my lady, why do you hide yourself from me?” he asked.

Maybe he’d seen her, but maybe he hadn’t. She could try to wait him out to see if he’d ride off. She couldn’t try to get away from him. His horse could run her down easily.

“Am I really so frightening?” he said. “Or perhaps you’ve fallen in love with that tree.”

Good question. He didn’t seem dangerous, maybe just a little weird with the “my lady’s” and that yards-long cape. Without knowing where she was, especially if she’d fallen into her favorite game, she could use some help figuring out how to get back home. And for now, he appeared to be all the help she had.

She stepped out from behind the tree. “Can you tell me where I am?”

He jumped down and made a sweeping bow, the cape settling around him. “Sir Spanksalot at your service, lady.”

“I didn’t ask who,” she said. “I asked where.”

“You are exactly where you need to be.”

 

More from Alice at Changeling Press …

USA Today bestselling author Alice Gaines has published several sensuous and erotic works. She prefers stories that stretch the imagination, highlighting the power of love and sex. Alice has a Ph.D. in psychology from U. C. Berkeley and lives in Oakland, California, with her collection of orchids and her pet corn snake, Casper.

Alice loves to get mail at authoralicegaines@yahoo.com. You can sign up for her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/boeGm9.

 

 

Night Critters by Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards #boxset #PNR #futuristic #RomCom #UrbanFantasy @changelingpress @Lena_Austin

Night Critters

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Sahara Kelly

 

Must Love Dogs: By the mid 21st century, the human population has been decimated, but some still scream over racial purity — and not just among humans. Not only is Roni not a pure werewolf, she’s a crossbreed Chuskie — offspring of a Siberian Husky and a Chihuahua. Corbin is Alpha and heir to Thornburn pack, the richest pack in three states. Who cares if he dates a were-dog? Their parents…

Faux Paws: Lucky Thornburn, a Faux Paws, a shifter-born who can’t shift, meets a fiery Goth half-angel named Charm who’s trouble on the wing. She wants to renovate her mother’s old house into a home for foster children, but Lucky’s cold-hearted brother JR wants the property for a shopping mall. Charm’s not going to give up, and Lucky’s coming right along with her…

Paws to Heal: Two were-dogs welcome the return of their former lover after being enemy packs for so long. Duke, Katriena, and Eduardo must pause to heal the breach and bring the were-canines and lupines together.

Bad Fur Day: Staci Thornburn is determined to get an interview with the new Chinese UNESCO Ambassador, but Jiao Long, a Foo Dog-Dragon cross, is more than a little irritated. It’s a good thing dragons are fireproof, because things are about to get hot!

Santa Paws: JR Thornton seeks redemption by dressing up in a Santa suit to deliver gifts to an orphanage, but the angry wood fairy guarding the house is more interested in blowing his head off. Phaedra’s determined to give JR a piece of her mind. So why does she want so badly to sit in Santa’s lap?

Publisher’s Note: Night Critters (Box Set) contains the previously released novellas Must Love Dogs, Faux Paws, Paws to Heal, Bad Fur Day, and Santa Paws.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

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or Pre-Order at retailers for August 23rd

   

 

Praise for Must Love Dogs “Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards have created a humorous canine version of Romeo & Juliet… The chemistry was perfectly blended; the characters were strong and overall helped create a marvelously written book.”

5 Angels! — NeNe, Fallen Angels Reviews
Praise for Faux Paws “Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards have produced another hilarious tale pairing unique critters together in a very enjoyable saga.”

4.5 Nymphs! — Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs
Praise for Paws to Heal “Paws to Heal is a glimpse into the history of the characters featured in the first book in the Night Critters series. In this installment, the fabulous Lena Austin delivers an erotic love scene hot enough to give you a Heat Stroke.”

5 Nymphs! — Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs
Praise for Bad Fur Day “The sex is good but the story was even better. You can always count on Austin and Richards for some “get me some iced tea, I’m on fire” sensuality.”

4 Tombstones! — Kate, Bitten by Books
Praise for Santa Paws “Lena Austin brings to life these two characters in her short story Santa Paws. Bringing Christmas to the readers and showing them that just about every evil deed can be turned to good, given the right incentive. Many readers will enjoy this short story that shows just what Christmas can be all about, at least to the magical creatures of the world.”

— Stacy Link, PNR Reviews

The Catnapped Lover ~ A Short Contemporary Romance by Rue Allyn #RomanceBooks #NewRelease #RomCom @RueAllyn

 

 

What does a bet between best friends have to do with a kidnapped cat and a tumbled-down animal shelter?  Nothing, unless you are Adam Talcott and you want to prove to your best-buddy that you can survive without access to your wealth and family connections.  Adam would have succeeded too, if it hadn’t been for Dierdre Clancy and that blasted cat.

Heat Rating: R

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EXCERPT

Balancing an armload of mail, an overloaded briefcase, and a gym bag with two yogurt cups teetering on top, Dierdre Clancy rushed to her cubicle. For the fourth time this week, and the umpteenth time this month, she was late. Once again, a power outage in the decrepit apartment building where she lived had caused her alarm clock to fail.

Please, Lord, don’t let my chauvinist pig of a boss realize I’ve been missing.

The yogurt cups threatened to topple off the gym bag. Dierdre wasn’t about to let her lunch decorate the linoleum. The mail showered to the floor. The briefcase hit her foot. With her free hand, she plastered the cups to her side. The gym bag slid down her arm. The webbed strap twisted, tourniquet style, around her wrist.

She managed a couple of sideways hops that brought her to the edge of her desk. The gym bag swung wildly. Leaning against the arm weighed down by the bag’s stranglehold, she managed to dump the yogurt cups onto the desk without mishap. She pulled herself upright and reached for the strap at her wrist.

Somehow, during all the hopping, the bag had swung around her legs and gotten wedged in the narrow space between her desk and file cabinet. The same strap that cut off circulation to her hand pressed into the backs of her knees, pinning her neatly to the desk. Only an act of extreme dexterity could save her from her own folly. Imbecile, why didn’t you make two trips?

Because I didn’t want to risk having the boss see me coming in late.

“Clancy! You’re late.”

Dierdre’s heart hit the ceiling. She knew the shout—a cross between an operatic tenor and a pig at slaughter. Still, she hadn’t been prepared to hear her boss’s screeching quite so soon.

 

HEROINE BIO

Dierdre Clancy grew up in a family of givers. Her parents were missionaries and often too busy saving other, less privileged people to realize how lonely and abandoned Dierdre felt. When she reached her teen years, she was shipped back to the USA to live with her Aunt Shea on Shea’s rundown farm and animal shelter. Finally she was in a stable environment with an adult she could count on. Dierdre went on to gain a degree in social work and took up the Clancy family tradition of helping others. Most of the time helping others was easy. But Adam Talcott broke that mold and every other box she tried to put him into. How could one man be so difficult to manage?

HERO BIO

Adam Talcott was born rich. He went into business with his best friend from college and made even more millions. His methods may be unorthodox, but he nearly always succeeds. Now he’s been challenged to live for two months without any of the privileges and resources he’s known all his life. Adam is confident that he can conquer this challenge as he has all others. But he didn’t count on Dierdre Clancy and that danged cat.

 

 

Ramblin’ Notes from the Author… Depression and the Will to Work

I have been self-employed for more than ten years now. I have been manic-depressive (now known as Bi-polar Disorder) all of my life. That’s more than sixty years, so I’ve got a lot of experience with emotional highs and lows. I won’t go into the technical history of depression and mania other than to say we know way more now than we did when I was young. Yet we still know too little about how emotions work, leaving us with the conclusion that every person’s experience is unique.
My experience of mania is that it’s a lot of fun. I get this extended burst of energy and enthusiasm. I accomplish goals and finish tasks at an amazing rate. As an author, mania means I make huge amounts of progress on my writing projects. All I have to do to get work done is willit. I feel as if, with enough time, I  could climb mountains and solve-world problems. I feel “normal.” I’m not, but I feel that way.
However, mania doesn’t last. The slide from mania to depression is insidious for me. I rarely recognize when it’s happening. Tasks that were easy become increasingly difficult. Goals are nearly never met. No amount of will can help me write or accomplish other projects. And then there’s the anger.
Yes anger. Remember, I’m writing about my experience. I’m an author not a doctor (,Jim). The frustration of not achieving at my ‘normal’ or ‘manic’ rate is tremendous. When I’m in a depressive state I can’t write. The ideas are there but I just don’t have the will to write them down. I don’t know who to blame for this, nor do I immediately recognze depression as the cause. Something unidentifiable is making me depressed. I blame all sorts of things, because I’m not performing at manic levels. And I’m angry because a) I can’t achieve at the same rate as when I’m “normal” or manic, and b) becasue in the moment I can’t recognize that it’s my own mental chemistry that is the root cause.
Life was this endless cycle of emotional highs and lows until nearly fifty years after I was born–fifty years of living with this endless cycle–I finally gave in and decided that I needed medication. I won’t tell you what I take. What works for me may not work for you or someone you love who struggles with manic-depression. Please seek professional help if you’re suffering any kind of mental distress. I will tell you that I am very, very lucky. My medical team hit the right medication on the first try. We spent several months finding the right dosage. Close to two decades after making that decision, I still take the same medication. And I take it religiously.
The medication helps me recognize what point I’m at in my manic-depressive cycle. I can listen to myself complaining that I “can’t get anything done,” that “the writing isn’t working,” and recognize that is a symptom of my depression rather than a condition that someone or something else imposed on me. I can express enthusiasm and enjoy the mania at the same time that I can recognize it for what it is–a symptom of Bi-polar Disorder. The medication doesn’t make my symptoms go away. It does help me recognize what’s happening with my mental state. That recognition has been a literal life-saver.
It has also saved my writing career. Now, when I go more than two or three days without writing or doing the myriad other things a self-employed author must do, I understand that my mental state is the root cause. I can overcome depression and mania both. But it takes a force of will. Medication doesn’t cure my problem. Medicaton makes it manageable. And managing any sort of career, writing included takes the will to work. The will do sit in the chair and type. The will to contact reviewers, and bloggers, and social media outlets and interact with them on a continuing basis whether I ‘feel like it’ or not. The will to format my books for sale, and set them up for distribution. The will to maintain and improve my website. The will to do so many, many things that make up my work. The same is true for all of us, but especially those who suffer emotional dis-orders. The will to work is an absolute necessity in your arsenal of tools for combating whatever emotional problem(s) you might have.
I have one request. Normally I’d ask you to comment, and I would still love for you to do that. More important to me, is that you seek help. Don’t go fifty years, as I did, before asking for help. Keep asking, keep searching, never give up. A solution for emotional distress is out there. You can find the solution that works for you. However, no matter what you are feeling at any given moment, you must have the will to continue. The will to do your personal work. Give yourself that much. Determine. Be stubborn. Will yourself to do what must be done, and that is to get help.
PS: This has been a rather serious RAmble. But it does include one bit of fun. Can you spot it? Comment here if you do.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hi, I’m Rue Allyn, I write heart melting romance novels. Books about characters and adventures in which love triumphs at the darkest moment. The kind of hopeful, steal-your-breath romance that melts a reader’s heart. The type of book I like to read. Hope you will too.

Freebie~~Get a FREE download of Rue Allyn’s May 2019 release Forever Hold My Heart, a Scottish historical novella. Just sign up for her newsletter here https://www.rueallyn.com/ravonsubscribe/.

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Bedtime Stories by Shelby Morgen, Anne Kane, Lena Austin, and Marteeka Karland #boxset #futuristic #PNR #RomCom #RomanceBooks @changelingpress @marteekakarland @AnneKane @Lena_Austin

Bedtime Stories (Box Set) (Bedtime Stories Multi-Author 8)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Renee George

This story’s about how Sam saved Troll’s Blog by coming up with one of the coolest ideas ever. Bedtime Stories Publishing…

Shelby Morgen — Troll’s Blog: Perfect skin, dusted a light powder blue. Bright burgundy Mohawk. 6’4”. Dark blue uniform. Big shiny gun. Yeah. I’m the Troll under the bridge. But if you’re reading my blog, you know that. That’s why I call it Troll’s Blog. Duh. But I digress. This story isn’t about me. Not exactly. It’s about my blog. And Sam. And another one of Sam’s great ideas. You’re gonna love it. Really.

Lena Austin — Ugly Duckling: Jean-Paul, incubus editor for Bedtime Stories Press has been assigned a new author. Dominick may be a fantastic author, but when he gets aroused, the situation gets ugly. Literally. Jean-Paul is sure he can handle Dom. Maybe…

Anne Kane — Pixie’s Playmates: “While the story had an engaging quality, I feel that the flavor of the sex was too vanilla for Bedtime Stories Press.” When Bedtime Stories Press review coordinator Pixie calls the reviewer into the office she finds out “B.J. Smith” is really two very drool-worthy males who want to demonstrate their toys. What’s a pixie to do?

Marteeka Karland — Shut Up! As official kitty of the Bar and Grille for the Bedtime Stories readers and authors, Callie has the last say in everything she does and with everyone in her vicinity. Then Troll makes a proclamation that could very well get someone killed. Anyone who can get the last word in on Callie gets to have his way with her in bed. It’s a proposition Eli can’t refuse. Callie’s about to get all the loving from Eli she can stand. If she can just shut up.

Note: Bedtime Stories in no way represents any actual publishing company. Any resemblance to the staff and authors of Changeling Press is purely coincidental.

That’s our story and we’re sticking to it.

 

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EXCERPT

Excerpt from Troll’s Blog
Shelby Morgen
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Shelby Morgen

I was so wrapped up watching the ’50s vintage Harley coming toward me I didn’t even notice he wasn’t registering on my screen. As in 1950s. Well over a hundred years old, and still on the road. That machine was really flying. Well, no. Not really flying. That’s an old euphemism for moving. Speeding.

God knows what he’d put in the tank. Probably running on moonshine. Nothing legal’d have it cranking like that. The sound of that motor purring down the road toward me had my blood heating up. I closed my eyes for a moment, ready to breathe in the scent of ancient exhaust.

Then it hit me. Sigh. No. Not literally hit me. My brain engaged — enough to see the century-old motorcycle was not registering on my vid panel. Nothing. Flying completely under the radar. And he wasn’t slowing down. In fact, the closer he got, the farther he laid himself out along that tank. Rider and cycle shot past me in one long black blur that had my mouth watering — and my hand on my gun. He might be sexy as hell, all black leather stretched out long and lean over that tank, but nobody — and I mean nobody — runs the gate on my watch.

Alarms and sirens went off, and lights flashed down the next mile of bi-way, warning the felon that he’d best slow down and pull over before the Toll Collector caught up with him.

Not that he slowed in the least. In fact, I’d have bet a month’s salary he gunned it about then.

Fine. If that’s the way he wanted to play it, the chase was on.

Damn, but that view looked even better from behind.

I shook my head as I jumped into my patrol pod, a three-wheeled Flitter that was airborne at a safe hover of a half-meter or so by the time I got my Mohawk crammed into the cockpit and the door slammed shut. What the fuck was he thinking, trying to outrun a Toll Collector?

The bridge itself is a long, straight shot of highway with equally long approaches, spanning just under two kilometers of unquiet waters. This isn’t just any bridge they’ve entrusted to me. No. It’s the Golden Gate, linking Old San Francisco to Marin Co., California. One of the longest bridges in the world. One of the few still in constant operation. Sure, a lot of people use Flitters these days, rather than ground vehicles, but Flitters aren’t exactly safe hovering over rough water, and the bay’s never calm. So unless you’ve got a full pilot’s license, and something jet propelled, if you’re going south, you’ve got to pass over my bridge.

And pay my toll. Which this asshole had elected not to do.

I’m not exactly an inexperienced pilot. I know my bridge like she was my baby. She’s 2.7 kilometers, from abutment to abutment, laid out straight and true as an arrow shot from a master’s bow. We crossed her in just under one minute, and if I hadn’t been so pissed off, I’d have been scared shitless.

Yeah, even a Troll can experience fear. Doesn’t happen often, I’ll admit, but chasing that leather-clad backside across that bridge through sheering winds high above some of the roughest, coldest water this side of hell at 200 KPH is more of a thrill than even a Troll is used to.

I could tell, too, from the way he hugged that tank, that he was really getting off on the chase. Every time the wind hit him he’d roll his shoulders, leaning back into it like he was riding a lover. He glanced back at me once, facemask lifted enough for me to see him grin. I’d bet my pension he had a boner the size of his ego. When I caught this idiot of a Human he was going to get a piece of a little more than my mind. I might even resort to police brutality — before I friggin’ killed him.

No Human scares a Troll and gets away with it.

 

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Drop Dead Sexy by Kiernan Kelly #PNR #RomCom #GayRomance #LGBT #Zombies @changelingpress @KiernanKelly

Can love eternal exist for those who are dead but not gone?
It takes a brave zombie to find out.

 

Drop Dead Sexy (Duet) (Drop Dead Sexy 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Zombies, Romantic Comedy, Gay

 

The dead have arisen, and all they want is their old lives back. Can love eternal exist for those who are dead but not gone? It takes a brave zombie to find out.

As Serious as the Grave: Tyler was only dead for a couple of hours before he reanimated, and he’s still handsome and drop dead sexy. What makes his unnatural life worth living? Daniel, a big hunk who just might be the special person Tyler’s spent his life looking for. Will his chance for a lifetime of love with Daniel be taken away before they even get started?

Lights, Camera, Zombies! Jericho’s never been one to shy away from the facts of life… and death… and re-life. Not everyone gets the memo that Zombies are humans with rights, however. When his life is threatened on the set of a new movie, Jericho and his lover, Dex, must decide which is more important, their Zombie pride or their lives.

Publisher’s Note: Drop Dead Sexy (Duet) contains the previously published novellas Serious As the Grave and Lights, Camera, Zombie by Kiernan Kelly.

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Cool Text - Excerpt 308426368979630

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kiernan Kelly
Excerpt from As Serious as the Grave

“Payday,” a voice called. The wall of Tyler’s cubicle shuddered as the mailroom clerk, a skinny intern with bad skin and a prominent Adam’s apple, banged his fist against it.

Tyler accepted his paycheck, noticing that the kid’s hand was shaking. No matter how long it had been since the undead had rejoined the ranks of the living, some folks were still gun shy about having to interact with them. “Thanks, Steven,” he said, smiling.

Steven nodded curtly, quickly backing out of the office. Tyler watched the mail cart zip by the door to his cubicle, and shook his head. The kid had worked for the company for nearly six months, but Tyler still scared the shit of out him. If Tyler frightened him, he wondered how Steven dealt with someone like Will Fenton, who looked like a Rob Zombie wet dream.

Turning his attention back to the computer monitor that glowed on his desk, Tyler typed in a string of numbers in rapid succession, and hit “print.” The printer whirred and began spitting out the pages of the report.

“Hey, Tyler, ready to go?”

Looking up, Tyler saw Daniel Norris’ bright blue, bespectacled eyes blinking at him from over the edge of the cubicle wall. A lock of his curling, thick black hair fell over his forehead, giving him a distinctly Clark Kent-ish look.

“Be ready in a minute. Need to get the VanHilton report to Barry before I can leave. He’s been yammering for it all afternoon.”

“The meeting with the VanHilton people isn’t until the end of next week! Barry’s just busting your balls, Tyler. Quitting time is five o’clock, and the fucking jack-off knows it. I swear, the man’s asshole must weep with envy over the amount of shit that comes out of his mouth.”

Tyler laughed, nodding his head. “I know it. But it’s printing now. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Well, hurry up. There’s a pitcher of Bud with our names on it waiting for us down at The Pit.”

“We don’t have to go to The Pit again, Daniel.”

“We always go to The Pit. It’s traditional on Friday nights.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, The Pit is a gay bar, Danny, and you’re straight, remember? Why do you want to hang out there? We could go to the Ale House instead,” Tyler offered.

“Because you need to get laid. Just hurry up, will you? It gets crowded in there on Friday nights. I want to get there before we end up standing in a corner holding up the walls. I’ll meet you in the garage.” Daniel’s head disappeared behind the cubicle wall, and Tyler shook his head, watching Daniel’s shadow ghost behind the opaque glass as he walked away.

Scooping up the pages of the report, Tyler stapled them together neatly. Powering down his computer, he quickly cleaned off his desk. Slipping on his leather jacket, he left his cubicle, depositing the report in Barry’s inbox on his way out of the office.

Barry, Tyler noticed, had already left for the night. Guess the world wasn’t going to end if he didn’t have the report in his fat sausage fingers before five after all, Tyler thought wryly. Not that Tyler had ever believed otherwise. Daniel was right — Barry was an asshole.

“Night, Will,” Tyler called as he passed cubicle 17. A line of cardboard evergreen air fresheners had been strung across the cubicle wall, poor defense against the odor that clung to it in a nearly visible cloud. Will was a sweet guy, but none too fresh.

Will’s answer was his normal sludgy, wet grunt. Poor guy – it was hard to be articulate when you didn’t have lips and your larynx resembled Swiss cheese.

Making his way out to the parking garage, Tyler felt a pang of loss as he passed between the rows of shiny sedans and SUV’s. His own less-than-gently-used Chevy had finally died for good less than a month ago, and unlike its owner, there was no hope of resurrection for it. He hadn’t yet found a suitable replacement that was decent and still within his means. Since its untimely death at just over 225,000 miles, he’d been carpooling with Daniel.

Not for the first time since his reawakening, Tyler thanked whatever Powers watched over fools and dead men for Daniel Norris. He’d been Tyler’s best friend for years before Tyler had died, and had blithely continued their relationship afterward, as if there hadn’t been twelve hours in between when Tyler had been stiffer than a monk’s erection.

A slightly tinny horn sounded, hurrying Tyler to Daniel’s dark blue Honda. He tossed his briefcase into the trunk before folding his six-foot frame into the passenger side bucket seat. No sooner had he clicked in his seatbelt than Daniel had the car in motion, heading toward The Pit.

 

MORE BOOKS BY KIERNAN KELLY

Kiernan’s stories of gay romance envelop diverse themes ranging from paranormal to fantasy, and science fiction to contemporary romance. She has fifteen novels currently in print and ebook, and over eighty shorter works available in both mediums. Contrary to popular opinion, she is not a zombie. Yet.