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TEASER: Stargazers by Anne Kane

Posted on February 19, 2026 by JessicaS

Sci-Fi Romance, Romantic Intrique

Date Published: February 20, 2026

Five
stargazers defy the odds and find love and adventure as they travel across the
galaxy.

Descended from the witches of old Earth, Stargazers
are highly sought after, both by legitimate sources and by pirates who enslave
them and use their talents to bend energy to power space ships and detect
people’s presences from great distances.

Wanton: When Tarik’s brother is
captured by the Intergalactic Council, the handsome cyborg realizes he’ll need
the help of a Stargazer if a rescue mission is to succeed. But when he kidnaps
Krystal, he’s torn between rescuing his brother and his growing attraction to
the talented witch.

Willful: Born both a Stargazer and Daughter-Heir to
the throne of New Zanadles, Jazlyn is used to a life of pampered luxury. But
when the planet runs into financial trouble, her leisurely life is replaced by
a whirlwind of Intergalactic Council intrigues and the lusty attentions of her
new employers.

Wild: When Stargazer Anaya stows away on a ship belonging
to a cynical bounty hunter, Ryland assumes she’s a runaway sex slave and
offers her a choice: be returned to her master or stay and serve his every
desire.

Wayward: When Abbie is kidnapped, Kat, her twin, boldly offers
her services to a very sexy pirate captain in return for his help. Tore is
fascinated by the sexy young Stargazer, but how far is she willing to go to
save her sister?

Sinful: Breanne is on a mission is to rescue a fellow
Stargazer who fell prey to pirates, and she can’t do that from the brig of
Roark’s spaceship. When she convinces Roark they should join forces, they find
out just how powerful they can be together. The pirates don’t stand a chance
against their combined wrath.

Publisher’s Note: Stargazers
contains the previously published novellas Wanton, Willful, Wild, Wayward and
Sinful.

Excerpt from Wanton

Tarik watched the young woman pacing the cargo bay of his ship. Tall and
willowy, she stalked the width of the cell with angry strides of long, slim
legs. A short, fitted tunic did little to hide her shapely figure, and he felt
a spark of heat ignite in his gut despite his mistrust of her kind. Wisps of
wavy, chestnut hair escaped from the single braid that hung to her waist, and
her green eyes sparkled with rage.
He felt the corner of his mouth tilt
upward as she aimed a kick at the wall. He’d bet if he could hear what she was
muttering, it wouldn’t be very ladylike. Of course, she wasn’t really a lady.
Krystal de Mylar was a Stargazer, one of the few who hadn’t yet sold her
talents to the Intergalactic Council. Probably holding out for a better deal,
he thought cynically.
The lack of military security surrounding her had
made her an ideal target when he realized he needed to acquire one of the
accursed witches in order to rescue his brother. Tarik’s renegade status made
it impossible to post a job proposal with the Stargazers’ Guild, so he’d
simply used his resources to plan and execute the perfect kidnapping.
Unfortunately, none of his cybernetic enhancements would help him explain to
the infuriated redhead why he’d spirited her away from her home without her
consent.
The woman stopped pacing and pivoted to face the hovering droid,
her eyes narrowed so that the green irises sparkled like gems. She’d obviously
realized someone was monitoring her. A flicker of heat ran up his spine as she
stood still, legs spread and hands on hips. Her mouth moved, and his attention
dropped to her full, luscious lips as they moved slowly in exaggerated
speech.
You are going to regret this.
It wasn’t hard to read her
lips. Or the threat in her eyes. He sure hoped she didn’t know how to wrap the
interplanetary energy lines around his neck.
“Not exactly what I’d
expected.” He turned to address his second-in-command. “I pictured someone
older, and tougher.”
Ryan grinned. “And a little less mouthwateringly
attractive? Might have made it easier to deal with her. Do you want me to go
in first and soften her up a bit? Your reputation with the ladies doesn’t bode
well for gaining her co-operation.”
Tarik sighed. They’d managed to
spirit Krystal out from under the noses of her parents and her bodyguards
without a problem, but they needed her to co-operate if they hoped to
accomplish their mission.
Stargazers could sense the energy lines that
connected the stars and planets. They had the ability to grasp those lines and
harness the energy for their own use. If she agreed to help them rescue his
brother Cynn, all they’d need to do was narrow down his location and the witch
could use the energy lines to get them in and out of Intergalactic space
undetected by the patrolling warships. He didn’t understand how the Stargazers
accomplished it, but the results were irrefutable, which explained why the
unscrupulous bastards running the Intergalactic Council made a point of hiring
as many of the witches as possible.
Before his parents were murdered by
the Council, they’d likened the Stargazers’ abilities to the witches of Old
Earth, who used the planet’s ley lines to feed their magic. They’d been
baffled though, by the Stargazers’ tendency to accept employment with the
restrictive Intergalactic Council. He sighed, running his fingers through his
short hair. The longer he put this off, the angrier the witch would get.
“Get
her into a set of restraints and bring her up to the interrogation chamber.”
He turned to leave, pausing when Ryan grabbed his arm. He looked pointedly at
the offending hand, raising one eyebrow questioningly.
Ryan let go of his
arm. “Restraints? Are you serious? She’s already pissed. You need to convince
her to help us, and treating her like a criminal isn’t going to win you any
brownie points.”
That might be true, but he wanted her under control
until she agreed to help. “Just the wrist restraints, then.” He ignored Ryan’s
glare of disapproval. “If I understand the theory, she can’t hook into the
power of the energy lines without lifting her arms, so we should be safe
enough.”
Ryan’s disbelieving snort told him what his second-in-command
thought about that.
“Get her up there. Now.” He issued the command in
what he hoped was a stern tone, pivoting to stalk out of the room. The damn
witch hadn’t been on his ship for a full solar cycle and already she was
causing trouble.

About the Author

Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a
bouncy little rescue dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous
Himalayan cat, and too many fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit
in and act normal, but finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance
in 2008, and her fate was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red
Sage Publishing and just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first
submission. Since then she has published more than thirty stories in a variety
of sub-genres, all with a happily ever after.

She has two handsome sons
and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending time with them whenever she
can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing with the characters in her
head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing guitar, singing and of
course, reading.

Website

Facebook

Twitter (X)

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Publisher
on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

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BOOK BLITZ & GIVEAWAY: Flight by L Theodoora

Posted on February 16, 2026 by JessicaS

Flight
L Theodoora
Publication date: November 14th 2013
Genres: Adult, Romance, Science Fiction

Piper Madden used to be an Ace Harpy Hunter, but after the death of her brother, she’ll do anything to leave that life behind. She flees to the fringe underground zone called the Rift to live out her exile on her own terms.

But the authoritarian Elder Corporation isn’t about to let one of their best assets slip through the cracks. Piper is drawn back into the fray on a contract basis to combat a rising Harpy insurgence. As she struggles through her grief, she’s caught between her old life in Central and her new, confusing existence in the Rift.

With the president of Elder Corp asking Piper to spy on his sister, navigating the surprisingly passive strategies of the Rift, and a strange friendship with the mysterious Asher, Piper’s days are filled with more questions than answers.

Then, a chance encounter leaves Piper privy to a dangerous resistance plot, and as she and Asher team up in an effort to unravel the truth, the secrets they uncover beneath the ancient walls of the dead city will spark their world into a grand-scale war.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT

It burns.

Wisps of smoke fill my mouth as I struggle to inhale, grasping the edges of my lungs until I let out a violent cough. I grope around the charred floor, unable to see, until my fingers brush his warm skin. Asher.

I force my eyes open, the thick smoke clouding them with hot tears. Asher lies beside me, sprawled across the crackling wooden floor. His eyes are dark, as though they’re filled with liquid black ink. He pulses, his jaw clenching as ebony wings slowly, painfully, rupture from his back, tearing through his skin. I reach my hand to grip his arm, avoiding the scattered debris.

“Ash?”

The flames lick up the walls around us to quell their hunger. Asher flinches when he sees me, slowly backing away as though I’m a stranger. Shit. The drugs have started working, which means I’m going to forget him, too. I wipe thick sweat from my face, crawling toward him and clutching his shirt tightly. If he moves, I’ll move with him. It’s dangerous, but I can’t let him go.

Not yet.

“Asher! It’s me!” I shout. “It’s Piper. Please. You know me.” I ignore the threat of his razor-sharp talons and wrap my arms around his wiry body. His scent, a mix of crisp cedar and musk, lets me cling to previous moments of us: his hands on my body, his lips caressing mine, staring at the stars and talking about the universe, our bodies flying high above ground. Moments I can’t forget.

“Please,” I whisper fiercely, “please remember me.” His body trembles, but he fights through it, stopping himself from tossing me aside. Just for a moment, his eyes fade back to their natural light blue, and he grabs my shirt forcefully. He buries his face into my neck like he’s breathing me in for the last time, and we cling to each other as the beams of the building crackle and come apart, sending showers of sparks raining around us.

“Piper,” he whispers. He pushes me back to arm’s length, grunting as he struggles to stay with me. Something stronger, something darker is trying to pull him under, and there’s only so long until he falls into its depths. It won’t be long now.

“Yes?” I reply, gripping his arms so tight I might leave bruises. I can’t lose him here. I won’t accept that this is the end. I look into his eyes, searching for a sign that he’s still my Asher.

That he’s not just some monster.

“I’ll find you again when this is all over,” he says, tracing his fingers over my temples.

“But how? You won’t recognize me, and I won’t recognize you. We’ll be strangers,” I murmur.

His eyes flash with an angry determination. “I would know you, Piper Madden, anywhere, any time of my life. They can try to force you away from me, but I’m not done fighting back. For the first time in my life, I’m actually fighting for something. I will find you,” he says.

We’re rocked backward as the wall explodes from pressure. He holds me tightly to keep me balanced, using his wings for leverage. Gunshots ring out in the distance, and I know it’s only a matter of time before they infiltrate and retrieve us. People I should have been able to trust. It hurts now knowing I never could.

Finally, I can feel the siren’s song of the drug pulling me into its shallow haze. Warmth floods my body as my memories are dragged just out of reach. I try to cling to them, but they drift away like petals in the wind. Asher grunts and rolls away from me, grasping his head with his hands, and his wings begin to tremble.

I look around, my head on a swivel as I struggle to stay present. How did we get here?

The moments leading up to this one drop like they’re falling down a staircase one by one.

“Asher!” I shout again, trying to bring him back to me for a little while longer. He pants heavily, willing himself to stand and remain conscious. I want to keep fighting, but I can feel my strength fading. The futility of it all wraps itself around my bones, leeching all hope. This is it.

“Promise me you’ll find me,” I whisper into Asher’s chest. Even though he’s in agony, he strokes my hair, rubs his thumb along my cheek, presses his lips against my neck.

“I promise,” he whispers, over and over, like a mantra. “I promise, I promise, I promise.”

Author Bio:

Theo is an author, screenwriter, and game designer from Northern Ontario.

She writes achingly romantic stories about complicated characters, often pulling from dark or strange places.

She has a passion for the ritual of writing, and for helping others achieve their writing goals through process and StoryCraft.

Website / Instagram / TikTok / Youtube / Amazon

GIVEAWAY!

Flight Blitz

—

TEASER: Invisible Monsters by Angela Knight

Posted on November 10, 2025 by JessicaS

Sci-fi Romance, BDSM, Second Chances

Date Published: November 14, 2025

Can two Rangers find love when they’re haunted by invisible
monsters — inside and out?

Earth civilians are obsessed with selfies and social media, but my life
revolves around alien starships, superhuman strength, and A.I. implants. Too
bad none of it helped when I was captured and tortured. Now I crave revenge,
but as a genetically engineered Ranger, I must obey Mothership’s rules:
protect humanity. Never kill.

When another alien ship sends monsters to invade Earth, Mothership’s
Rangers must stop them. My new Ranger teammate is everything I shouldn’t
crave: handsome, skilled, and haunted by his own dark past. He helped rescue
me from torture, but it cost him his entire team. Now I’m the mess
he’s got to clean up.

Battling invisible monsters may be the death of us, but our mutual attraction
is undeniable. Can we stop an alien invasion despite our dangerous chemistry?

EXCERPT

Present Day

Diana

I stared at the screen, watching the Earth grow larger as our transport raced
toward it. Even after two months as one of Mothership’s Rangers, the
sight reminded me how strange my new life had become. Down there, people were
obsessed with selfies, celebrities, and social media. I’d plunged into a
world of giant alien starships, AI brain implants, and super-strength.

And worse.

An image flashed through my head — the sadistic grin on Roger Bannon’s
face as he leaned in, the surgical drill whining as it spun. I’d fought
not to scream as the drill bit in.

Roger loved it when I screamed.

I shoved away the memory, hard. If I wasn’t careful, that thin face with
those pale, rabid eyes would start running through my head on an OCD loop.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” I muttered.

Next to me, Ian Cartwright turned to give me a narrow stare. “What did
you say?”

Damnit, Diana, you’re not supposed to creep out your battle buddy.
“Bad memories.”

His expression softened, ice-blue eyes going a little less chilly. “I
can imagine.”

No, you really can’t. I didn’t say it aloud. Cartwright already
thought I was a human hand grenade just waiting for somebody to pull my pin.
The team didn’t need that kind of distrust, especially in the middle of
an op.

I looked away to see Indra Fox watching me in concern. Crap, I’d even
freaked her out. She and our team leader, Rowan Kerr, sat on one of the other
bench seats beside the huge oval screens that lined the transport’s
curving fuselage.

Indy had been my best friend all my life, my sister in every way but blood.
She could read me as if she were telepathic. “Having a flashback?”
She tilted her head, long, dark hair swinging around her face, green eyes
startling against the silken fall of black. Like me, Indy had a tough,
athletic build from the combat and strength training we’d had from the
time we could walk. Our dads hadn’t been fooling around.

“I’ve got it handled.”

“Cyberpunk could block those if you’d let him.”

She was right — my AI brain implant could suppress the firing synapses that
triggered those memories. “I’m not going to give Roger the
satisfaction.”

Rowan Kerr snorted. “Satisfaction’s the last thing Bannon’s
feeling.” Our team leader was even bigger than Cartwright, though his
features were less classically handsome, with the rich golden coloring of his
Latino heritage. His angular features and intense gaze made him look like
he’d escaped a temple in ancient Greece. “If he even thinks about
what he did to you, he’ll get a one-way trip to PTSD hell. Pissing
Mothership off is never a good idea.”

“She still turned him loose. He could try it again.” That’s
why I dreamed of killing him, First Reg or no First Reg. If Bannon was dead,
he’d never come back.

Cartwright gave me a frustrated glower. “Newman, he can’t. His
conditioning won’t let him. If you violate the First Reg again,
you’re going to find out why — the hard way. You’ve used up the
only second chance you get.”

That just pissed me off. “If Mothership had rescued Indra and me when
Satan’s Horsemen murdered our –”

“How about not starting a fight in the middle of a mission?” Rowan
interrupted. “We’ve got a child and his family to rescue.
Preferably before the damn Boars grab them.”

I shut my mouth so fast, my teeth clicked. I’d seen the file photo in
Aiden Scott’s dossier. Just eight years old, the kid had huge brown eyes
in a pale, round little face under a flyaway mop of dark hair, his grin wide
and white and missing a couple of baby teeth.

When Aiden was diagnosed with a high-risk medulloblastoma at age four, doctors
treated the brain tumor with surgery, chemo, and radiation. He’d still
relapsed three years later. The boy would probably be dead now, except
Mothership spotted his family’s medical GoFundMe. She’d sent a
Ranger team to the Scott family with an offer to heal Aiden. His parents
hadn’t looked a gift miracle in the mouth — just packed him up and
flown off with the Rangers.

Giant alien spaceships are a lot less scary than losing a child.

Mothership’s doctors had infused Aiden’s body with nanotech —
molecule-sized bots that hunted down every cancer cell in his body and killed
them all. Then the tech corrected the genetic condition that caused the cancer
while healing the damage it had inflicted. He’d been healthy and happy
within three months.

But that nanotech also made him a tempting target for the Boarosans
who’d invaded the solar system a decade back. The humans whose bodies
the Boars used as unwilling hosts were as vulnerable to disease as everyone
else, and the aliens wanted to keep their meat suits healthy. That was why
they’d ordered the Horsemen to kidnap me, why Bannon and his
“researchers” had cut me, scarred me, peeled me so they could
watch my tech put me back together. They’d hoped to reverse engineer my
nanotech.

They could easily do the same to Aiden. Mothership’s simulations
predicted that since I’d escaped, the Boar might well decide to go after
the Cured she’d treated.

The idea of that sweet little boy at the mercy of the same aliens who’d
given me to Roger…

Rescuing Aiden’s a hell of a lot more important than beefing with my own
team. Better mend some fences.

I gave Ian a tight nod. “Sorry for going off on you, Cartwright.
Rowan’s right — an op isn’t the time to get pissy.”

He studied me thoughtfully. Rangers were universally attractive —
Mothership’s genetic engineering at work — but Ian was even more
gorgeous than the typical agent. His face was intensely masculine, all high
cheekbones and square jaw, his nose aquiline, his mouth wide, with a lower lip
I longed to nibble. He wore his sable hair in a severe style that made him
look even harder, sexier, but it was his eyes that pulled me in. An icy blue,
they were ringed and rayed in a rich cobalt, watchful and cool. People tend to
dismiss a man that pretty, but Cartwright was also six-five and built like an
NFL defensive lineman. As one of Mothership’s Rangers, he was even more
dangerous than he looked.

“I started it.” His voice rumbled in a way that made me yearn to
exchange more than snark with him. “Shouldn’t have poked the
wound. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just… start over, okay? The point is getting Aiden
and his family to safety.”

His nod was tight and controlled, like everything else about the man.
“Works for me.”

About the Author

Author on Twitter

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15

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PREORDER BLITZ: Rain Catcher by Mikala Ash

Posted on January 22, 2025 by JessicaS

Sci-Fi Romance, Multicultural & Interracial

Date Published: January 24, 2025

2147: Pollution has poisoned the earth, the seas and the air. Fresh, clean water is as precious as gold.

Rauni’s Mistress (Rain Catcher 1)

In the squalid red light district of Hobart Town, Roxy Talia earns her living as a porn star to make ends meet. Tobin Kane follows the monsoon rains across the ocean, collecting precious fresh water before it falls into the polluted seas. He and his crew have been blackballed within the industry. Tobin is determined to find a way to keep his beloved ship, the Rauni. That involves Roxy, the sexy vixen who holds the key to saving his future and has been the star of his lusty fantasies for years. Tobin will do whatever it takes to keep his ship — even if he has to kidnap Roxy to do it…

Aqua Vitae (Rain Catcher 2)

When Audrey Purcell’s lover Kirk disappears in the aftermath of a bomb blast, the bittersweet experience transforms the shy, bookish girl into a brazen and reckless risk taker. Each shore leave sees her swimming in alcohol and rejoicing in one-night stands — her latest fling being Joachim Muller, a navy commander with a body to die for. Her career takes a great leap forward when she’s given command of a derelict rain catcher, the Aqua Vitae — but her success comes with a price. The echoes of her painful past clash with the promise of the future, threaten her lifelong dream with destruction.

EXCERPT

Excerpt from Rauni’s Mistress

With wide eyes and a madly beating heart, Roxy Talia watched the tall,
good- looking stranger enter the crowded hotel bar.

He was absolutely perfect.

His crisp uniform proclaimed him to be an officer, non-military, a merchant
mariner of some sort. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the
street lights, he presented an imposing figure, broad shoulders, trim waist,
nicely shaped legs. Once he’d removed his face mask, he’d scanned the dimly
lit bar room with barely disguised distaste. His chiseled features wore a
sad, resigned expression.

When his dark, intense eyes settled on her where she sat at the bar and the
spare stool beside her, Roxy’s heart fluttered. Her nipples had hardened the
instant his eyes met hers. That warm feeling in her belly she’d thought
she’d never feel again washed through her like a spring tide.

He fit her needs exactly, but what was it about him? Her response was as
bewildering as it was desired. She’d often thought these last few years that
she’d become anesthetized to good-looking men. After all, she had her pick
yet here he was, the man she had assumed didn’t exist, shattering her jaded
expectations.

He strode toward Roxy, fixing her with an unwavering gaze.

Roxy gasped, and her sudden intake of breath surprised her. She was
actually nervous at the approach of this man. She took a deep breath to calm
herself and tamped down the fear that her disguise was not good
enough.

That afternoon, Roxy had taken considerable steps to prepare her deception.
She’d dressed in a conservative business suit with a white blouse and
knee-length gray skirt. She’d chosen platform stilettos to give her height,
a tight bandeau to minimize her bust and a platinum wig to disguise her
natural jet hair. For her face, she’d applied ivory foundation and powder to
hide her golden skin, blue lipstick to alter the line of her lips and a fake
mole on her right cheek. To hide her trademark green eyes, she’d inserted
blue contacts and added azure eyeliner and turquoise shadow to alter their
shape.

The hodgepodge of styles, business and tart, created a jarring amalgam of
looks that would confuse any observer. At least that was what she’d
intended. She believed herself to be unrecognizable and the three drunks who
had tried to pick her up so far tonight hadn’t seen her for who she truly
was.

This man, however, was sober. It would be the test of her preparation and
acting skills to fool him. He towered above her, his face impassive, his
attitude commanding. “This seat taken?”

His voice was like honey. It flowed into her ear like sweet syrup, warming
her all the way down to her fluttering belly.

“No,” she said. The voice she’d decided on was deeper than her
own, husky with a faint European accent to hide the Australasian nasal
twang. She’d been practicing all afternoon, intending it to lead any
listener to think she was just another environmental refugee trying to fit
into Hobart Town and not quite succeeding.

The officer sat down. There hadn’t been even a flicker of recognition. If
anything, he displayed total indifference.

Roxy relaxed. Surreptitiously she gazed at the stranger in the bar’s
mirror. In between the bottles of imported and domestic Aqua and Hydra water
and the ubiquitous range of Gills Beer, she considered his heavily defined
features, trying to get a handle on his personality, as if facial lines told
you anything about the inner workings of the mind.

His ebony skin, wearing the sheen of perspiration which was unavoidable in
Hobart Town’s enervating humidity, glowed in the bar’s dim lighting. His
short, black hair was closely cropped, exposing a nicely shaped skull. His
face was heavily textured and seemed to attract the shadows.

“I’m Tobin,” he said and she jumped in surprise.

He was staring back at her reflection. “I’m Su Sha Xie,” she
said, quickly adopting the name of her worst enemy in kindergarten, a
petulant little girl who once had stolen her crayons.

His dark eyes narrowed. “Funny, you don’t look Chinese.”

“It’s a long story.”

Tobin signaled to the barman. “I’m not into long stories today. Want
another?”

“Why not?”

He fished out his card, scowled and flicked it to the barman. “Wanna
sit?”

She followed his gaze to a newly vacated table in the corner. “I
thought we were.”

“Something more comfortable.”

“I’m not a hooker,” she said.

“I didn’t think you were.” He stood up and waited, looking down
at her. “Coming?”

Tobin’s self-confidence was staggering. Then she figured out what it really
was. He didn’t care if she came with him or not. She was just a woman to
him, one of thousands out on this hot Hobart night. Roxy quelled her
momentary annoyance by reminding herself that this was exactly why she was
here in disguise. She wanted, for once, to be just an ordinary woman.

“Sure.”

The barman returned with two beers. Tobin took his card, picked up the
bottles and, weaving through a group of drunken marines, strode over to the
table.

Roxy followed. The view of his physique from behind was as impressive as
from the front. His broad shoulders gave way to bulging biceps which were
barely contained by the short sleeves of his shirt. He sported a trim waist,
slim hips and oh so tight buns atop sturdy but shapely legs. The musculature
of which screamed both stamina and strength.

Roxy approved. Unlike the men she knew, Tobin’s body lacked the artificial
contours gained in the gym. He was used to real work, and hard work at
that.

Tobin sat down without waiting for her. “I meant it. I’m not a
hooker.”

“I believe you.” He took a swig of his beer, his eyes fixed on
hers. “I’m not looking for a hooker.”

“What are you looking for?”

He took a swig of beer and motioned to the chair.

She sat.

“So, keeping it short, what’s your story?” she asked finally,
putting an amused tone in her voice.

He looked into his beer. “No potted histories, please. Let me tell you
who you are and then I’ll tell you who I am.”

Her heart stopped. Damn it, he’d recognized her after all. She’d hoped she
could have at least one encounter with someone who didn’t know who she was.
Her anticipation of the night she’d planned collapsed and the despair in the
bottom of her chest stirred.

“We are two of a kind,” he said slowly. “You tell me you’re
not a hooker, I say I believe you. Then you tell me again to make sure. You
are balancing on stiletto heels to make you appear taller than you really
are. You are wearing an appalling wig and, geeze, to apply all that makeup
you must have used a bricklayer’s trowel. So, I’m assuming you don’t want to
be recognized.”

His eyes trapped her in an inescapable gaze and she felt like she was
falling into their dark depths. Within her chest her heart thudded like a
prisoner beating against prison bars and in her ears, her blood roared. She
could barely breathe waiting for him to say her name and shatter her desire.
She so much wanted this stranger not to recognize her.

“You don’t want to be recognized,” he repeated. “Well,
that’s fine by me. I don’t want to know who you really are, and I’ll believe
whatever you tell me.”

Confusion roiled inside her mind. What game was he playing? Did he
recognize her or not?

Roxy cleared her throat. “You said we are two of a kind.”

“Well, you see, Su, I don’t want to be me tonight either. So the
reason I’m here, in this bar in this dodgy hotel in this stinking rotten
town, is to be anyone but me, okay? Like you, I want to be someone else, if
just for the night.”

About the Author

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development
consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by
night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is
concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags
of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

PREORDER BLITZ: Wildcard by Angela Knight

Posted on November 20, 2024 by JessicaS

Sci-Fi Romance, BDSM

Date Published: November 22, 2024

Passion’s the pot when Rowan Kerr draws the Wildcard.

Though she lives in a world of Beyonce and iPhones, Indra Fox thinks she
may be an alien. She’s too strong, too fast, and heals too quickly to
be merely human. But she doesn’t know for sure, because her parents
refused to tell her. Nor would they explain why she — and her equally
superhuman best friend, Diana Newman — were raised to be warriors.

When their families are murdered, Indra and Diana seek revenge on their
killers, Satan’s Horsemen. Then Diana is kidnapped, and Indra goes
undercover at a strip club the gang owns to discover where her friend has
been taken.

But when Rowan Kerr walks into the club, Indra realizes he’s even
more powerful than she is. Rowan says he knows who she really is and what
she was created to do, but she must go with him to learn the truth.

Indra will do anything to save Diana. Including embracing her destiny as
something more than human.

Rowan thinks Indra could be the teammate — and lover — he dreams of. But
she’s mad as hell about being kept in ignorance, and she’s
convinced that she’s been betrayed by the woman he works for.
What’s worse, she’s not wrong. Can he convince her to take a
chance on him? And can Indra and Rowan defeat the very real aliens who are
behind Diana’s abduction?

They’d better, or humanity will pay the price for their
failure.

EXCERPT

Rowan

I eyed the long, low stucco building as I got out of the car.

Pink neon depicted the outline of a writhing nude woman with a tail and cat
ears wrapped around a purple neon stripper pole. More neon read “Pole
Katz Gentleman’s Club,” in red.

You sure this is the right address? I asked my computer implant.

Qubit’s silky female voice replied, Her nanos ping from this
location, and have been doing so for five hours a night for thirty-eight
days. There’s a 93.8 percent chance she’s working here.

Why? She sure doesn’t need the money. I frowned at the neon stripper.
Has to be hunting.

Odds are running at 87.6, Qubit agreed.

Indra Fox was going to be about as happy to see me as a serial killer
finding cops at the door. And for the same reason.

I headed for the purple awning over the club’s entrance. Even without
enhanced senses, I’d have been able to hear the music — Beyonce
purring about getting frisky in a limo.

Qubit displayed results from sensor scans and web searches along the
periphery of my visual field, flashing the club’s layout and the
number of people inside — one hundred and fifty-three patrons and staff. Of
those, one hundred and fifty-two were Nats — natural humans. There was only
one who wasn’t. Indra Fox.

Double doors led into a narrow, black-walled foyer vibrating with music
just short of deafening. To my left stood a cashier’s window where a
bored-looking woman in a bare-midriff Pole Katz T manned a Square station. A
sign over the window informed me of the twenty-dollar cover charge.

“Hi, there,” the cashier purred, giving me an approving
once-over.

Pulling out my wallet, I peeled off a twenty and handed it over.

“Thanks,” she said. “Enjoy.”

“I’m sure I will.” I turned to find a narrow-eyed bouncer
glowering by the curtained entry to the main room. He wore black chinos and
a black T that said SECURITY in all caps. He looked the part, too —
six-foot-three, 232.8 pounds, per Qubit’s sensors — with skin the
color of teak, a shaved head, and full-sleeve tats on massive arms. Judging
from his expression, he didn’t like the looks of me. Probably because
big as he was, I was bigger. I suspected he was also trying to figure out if
I was a cop. Or worse, if I’d get drunk and disorderly, and if he
could handle me if I did.

Dude, you wouldn’t have a prayer.

“Don’t touch the girls,” he warned. “Be a
gentleman.”

“I’m never anything but.”

He looked dubious, but I gave him a twenty-dollar tip, and he relaxed as if
reassured. Which might be a bit premature, depending on what happened with
Fox.

I stepped past him through the curtained doorway into an eye-searing storm
of thumping music and colored light. The club’s dark walls were
covered with neon silhouettes of women in erotic poses, and the floor was
scuffed dark wood. A curving translucent bar glowed to the right, edged in
yet more neon.

You need to buy a drink first, Qubit told me. There’s an etiquette to
patronizing these places, and you don’t want to draw attention.

Yeah, I’d hate to be conspicuous. I was six and a half feet tall.
Conspicuous was pretty much baked into the cake. Snorting, I headed to the
bar to collect an overpriced Scotch, then turned to work my way through the
crowd as Qubit scanned for our target.

The focus of the room was an oval stage with a pair of sturdy chrome poles,
a set of four steps at one end. A ring of plump chairs in red velvet
surrounded it, occupied by rapt patrons. Additional groupings of chairs and
tables clustered around that, mostly men, with a few couples scattered here
and there.

A blonde Nat girl worked one of the poles to the cheers and hoots of the
customers. I headed for the chairs around the stage.

If you sit there, you’ll be expected to tip every dancer, Qubit
warned as I dropped into the sole unoccupied seat.

Money not being a problem — one of the perks of working for Mama — I
shrugged. Fine. If Fox is dancing, I want to make eye contact. According to
her file, the only one of us Indra had ever met was Diana Newman. I wanted
to see how she’d react to me.

The blonde dancer bounced upward, grabbed the pole hand over hand and swung
her way around it, arching her leanly muscled body into a seductive curve.
She was down to a G-string and pasties, so she must be most of the way
through her act.

I would have been interested, but I could smell her. Not that she smelled
bad — fresh sweat, some kind of floral shampoo and citrus body wash, a hint
of mint from her mouthwash. But underneath that, she smelled Nat. So no, not
my type, though she had the kind of lean grace you get from swinging around
a pole for hours a day.

Frowning, I watched her spin and grind. Why hadn’t Mama ordered Indra
Fox and Diana Newman picked up when their parents were murdered? Or if not
then, once it became clear they were stalking the killers?

Instead, Mama had let the two run. Now Newman was offline too, and Fox was
still killing assholes.

The blonde finished her routine. Absently, I held up a ten. The Nat
sauntered over and knelt so I could tuck it into her G-string. Giving me a
dazzling smile, she winked. “Want a lap dance?”

I smiled and shook my head. Looking disappointed, she stood and headed for
the next bill. The guy who waved it looked a lot more enthusiastic.

This whole fucking thing is weird. Fox has capped four men in the past
year. Why not pick her up before now? Mama doesn’t approve of merking
people, even actual mercs.

It was a rhetorical question, but Qubit answered anyway. She didn’t
share her reasoning.

There’s a shock.

Not that I was shedding any tears for Fox’s victims. According to the
police files Qubit had hacked, they’d been members of Satan’s
Horsemen, a mercenary gang suspected in a slew of illegal shit — drug
trafficking, prostitution, gun running, murder for hire. No wonder the cops
didn’t care they’d ended up room temperature. Though judging by
the crime scene pics, Fox’s temper was almost as nasty as mine.

The local po-po also suspected Pole Katz was run by the Horsemen, though a
couple of raids had turned up jack in the way of evidence. All they’d
managed to do was charge two girls with allowing a little too much groping
during lap dances.

Any of the gang present?

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards
for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Author Links

Author on Twitter

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

TEASER TUESDAY: Dreams Eclipsed by Kira Stone

Posted on November 5, 2024 by JessicaS

Sci-Fi, Futuristic Romance

Date Published: November 8, 2024

Janet’s orgasms are earth-shattering. At least they are when she’s Dreaming in the Zodiac, a virtual reality world created by Dr. Archer Tate. The problem is that, technically, a system shutdown shouldn’t be possible, especially not from a mere cyber-orgasm. Gamely, Janet reveals every intimate detail of her Dreams for the team’s troubleshooting analysis but several weeks later, the cause of the anomalous malfunction remains a mystery.

Archer blames Janet for the Zodiac’s glitch. He just can’t figure out how
she’s triggering it. Doesn’t help that listening to her reveal her
lusty Zodiac Dreams, orgasm by orgasm, is driving him insane with lust for
her. For the sake of the project and his sanity, he decides to Dream with
her so he can catch her in the act and put this business to rest.

There’s more to Janet’s orgasmic Zodiac Dreaming than mere mechanics. It
takes someone who knows Janet’s heart as well as her mind and body to create
the disruptive orgasm. When the team psychologist, Liam, insists he’s better
suited for the job, Archer realizes he could lose something more precious to
him than Zodiac. Will sharing Janet with Liam solve their problems, or will
he lose her forever?

EXCERPT

Janet Widgeon sauntered into the smoky jazz club, her stiletto heels
clicking on the varnished wood floor. Notes of sweet, sassy blues rolled
down the dimly lit hall to welcome her. She was early, far earlier than she
normally arrived at the Zodiac Club, but pacing in her apartment
hadn’t lessened her anxiety.

Is he as excited about tonight as I am? Is he already here, waiting for me?

The burly bouncer stationed at the entrance greeted her.
“Evenin’, Miss Janet.” His thin black lips curved slightly upward as he took in her skintight, siren red dress. High praise coming from the stoic man.

Though she wore three-inch heels, she had to stretch to kiss the beefy man’s cheek. “Evening, Trent. How’s the mood tonight?”

“Hotter than Maria’s gumbo.”

Janet chuckled. “Don’t let her hear you say that, or her next batch will violate our fire code.”

Trent ducked his head in agreement. “True that.”

She fingered her slim, sequined purse — it was the same shade as the dress and shoes — as she surrendered to her curiosity. “Any messages for me?”

“None of the friendly sort, if that’s what you’re asking.” Even in the dim light she could see his brown eyes sparkle with amusement.

With a nod, she deftly spun on the points of her shoes and headed toward the bar’s crowded interior.

“Going to your office, Miss, or should I ask one of the girls to bring a glass of white wine to your table?”

Her gaze roamed the dim interior as she considered her answer.
“I’m far too restless to concentrate on paperwork tonight. I think I’ll mingle first, and then find a seat when Jim begins his first set.”

“You have yourself a fine evening then, Miss Janet.”

Janet penetrated the hazy atmosphere where a broad mix of patrons congregated around small tables in front of the stage. Tonight’s headlining act was a real coup for the club. Jim Byrnes owned a nightspot in Vancouver and rarely played anyplace else. How her manager had sweet-talked him into taking a trip to her little place in bayou country was a secret that man wasn’t telling.

A relatively new kid on the national jazz scene, Chris Thomas King was
currently warming up the room with good, old-fashioned songs. Janet hummed
along with his rendition of the old Blues classic John Law as she circulated
through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with old and new friends.

Jim’s name was a big draw, and Janet was pleased to see her staff
keeping up with the clientele’s high demand for fresh, full glasses.
Most of the customers wouldn’t want a meal so late at night, just a
few Cajun snacks to keep the alcohol company. Janet noted that Maria and her
kitchen staff seemed to have those requests under control as well.

There was only one question remaining on her mind. By the time she
completed a full circuit of the room, Janet had that answer too. He’s not here.

Instead of being disappointed, a tremor of excitement rippled along her
spine. He wasn’t here. Yet. But he would come. She was sure of it.

Janet signaled for a barmaid to bring over a drink as she sat down at an
empty table, the one reserved for her exclusive use, in a dark corner at the
right edge of the stage. Usually, she invited others to join her, but not
this time. The only person whose company she desired now knew where to find
her — and would, sometime before the night was over.

It had been exactly a month ago that she’d first met him, a friend of
a friend who shared her fondness for delta blues and late-night
conversation. They’d talked until dawn threatened to cross the line
from speculation to fact. He’d left her with a passionate kiss and a
promise to return the following Saturday.

In fact, he’d come back again and again to the Zodiac Club, never
staying beyond closing, never asking if he could take her home or inviting
her to his place. But after their last encounter, she knew their next
meeting would end differently. The sexual tension between them had hit a
boiling point. Next time, they’d either turn up the heat until their
rising passion was finally given a chance to burn, or they’d shut off
the gas for good.

And now that night had arrived.

Janet sat alone and waited for him to appear through the blues of Chris
Thomas King and then Jim Byrnes’ opening set. She enjoyed both
musicians thoroughly, yet part of her remained aware of the lingering
emptiness beside her.

As Jim’s second set began, Janet succumbed to a trickle of doubt. Had
he forgotten about their date? Lost interest? Met someone else? Normally she
didn’t allow the presence or absence of a man at her side to cast
doubt on her self-worth, but this man was the exception to every personal
rule she had about dating. She’d been so sure he felt the same way and
now…

“Why do you wear such a sad face, cherè?” a rich,
masculine voice asked from the shadows behind her.

She gasped in surprise. She’d never heard him approach, but somehow
he stood beside her, a living advertisement for sin.

Inside the dark club, his face looked chalk white. The rest of him was
encased in black from neck to toe. A lightweight ribbed turtleneck tucked
into a pair of pleated pants. A sports coat hung over one arm, the opposite
hand rested in his pants’ pocket. So much the man she remembered,
still more shadow than substance. The only part of him that vibrated with
life was the pair of quicksilver eyes which now pierced her soul.

Irritated that he’d made her doubt herself, she snapped,
“You’re like a damn ghost.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he pointed out, moving
to her side.

Janet knew his courtly manners wouldn’t allow him to sit in the empty
chair until it was offered. She’d keep him on pins and needles for a
few more seconds to satisfy her moment of pique. “You’ve missed
most of the show. Jim Byrnes, for heaven’s sake!”

“Is this transgression so severe you’d rather I go?” His
whisky-smooth voice whispered against her ear.

Pure lust snaked down her spine. How could she be inches away from orgasm
just from the sound of his voice?

About the Author

Kira Stone has been around the block…the writer’s block, that is.

From vamps and witches to historical heroes, from futuristic scientists to paranormal corporate executives, from Canadian werewolves to off-world
shifters, Kira has written about them all. Manlove has sparked hot and heavy
in many of her plots, but Kira also finds a lucky lady to keep the sexy
heroes company from time to time. While Scotland remains her favorite place
in the world, Kira is constantly in search of new adventures to add to the
creative primordial ooze where her best stories are born.

Author Links

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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress