Tag Archives: SciFi Romance

TEASER: Invisible Monsters by Angela Knight

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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

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.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

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

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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

 

Pre-Order Today

 

PREORDER BLITZ: Wildcard by Angela Knight

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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.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

 

Author Links

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter


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

 

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TEASER TUESDAY: Dreams Eclipsed by Kira Stone

Posted on by

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

Author on Facebook

Author on Goodreads

Author’s Website

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today

 

NEW RELEASE: Cressida’s Agents by Mikala Ash

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Book Title: Cressida’s Agents

Author Name: Mikala Ash

Date Published: June 7, 2025

Genre: Steampunk, Murder Mystery, Romance

About the Book:

Replete with all the trappings of an alternate world — airships, steam powered aircraft, automatons, moon bases, and witches with psychic powers — Cressida’s Agents is a steamy thrill-a-minute ride in a universe of what could have been.

Cressida Troy, after being mesmerised into betraying humanity, is now the wife of Mon Ilson, the alien leader, and is crowned Empress of Space. While pretending to be the love of his long-life, Cressida is desperately seeking a way to redeem herself, and somehow save human civilization from destruction at his hands. Then her former fiancé, Jacob, is captured and brought to the moon. Can she earn back his love, or has her seeming betrayal hurt him too much?

Meanwhile on Earth, Marjorie, in the guise of brothel madam and casino owner is acting as an agent of Mon Ilson. Her goal is to learn from him the secret of immortality, and for now she must do his bidding. A violent assassination attempt on her airship Fortuna brings her into the strong arms of handsome Squadron Leader, Sir Christopher “Kit” Colby. Her attempt to uncover the mastermind behind the plot leads them both into deadly danger.

Retailer Link: https://books2read.com/CressidasAgents

Changeling Press: https://www.changelingpress.com/cressida-s-agents-empire-of-the-sky-3-b-3635

READ AN EXCERPT

Bauble-like, the Earth shone down on ash-hued desolation, embarrassing the barren scene with exuberant fecundity. Patches of white lace speckled the deep blue of the oceans and brushed the rich ochre of North Africa. Above was Europe and, if I squinted my eyes, I fancied I could see my island home, the lush green of England.

My breast ached with a fervent yearning.

My husband, Mon Ilson, the self-anointed Emperor of Space, drew me closer and kissed my neck. “It will all be ours, my love.”

“When?”

“In due time, my darling.” He pulled me to him, and I snuggled against his muscular chest. “Do you miss it so?”

I thought a moment and shook my head. “Not when I am with you.”

His lips brushed my earlobe. “We will return soon. I promise. Our plans advance by the day. Once again you will walk upon the green grass and feel fresh air upon your cheeks.”

I turned my head and returned his kiss, deepening it, allowing the stirring in my quim to mask the confusion of my thoughts. As homesick as I was, did I really want to go back? Could I conquer my guilt? I feared that with the first step the grass beneath my feet would turn to cinders as dead as the lunar dust.

Much had happened to me in the year since I’d left the world of my birth. I was no longer the same woman, the naive and selfish Cressida Troy who’d been fooled into betraying humanity. That silly girl had become Nil Ilson, Empress of Space, wife to Mon Ilson, and co-leader of the Lunarians. I was no longer responsible only for myself. Thousands now depended upon me, be they hideous goblins, or those who’d “adopted” human bodies.

In the deepest recesses of my mind, where I was safe from mental probing, I knew that I’d been possessed, mesmerised into being a traitor to humanity, deceiving my fiancé, Jacob McLeary, and then killing the two greatest threats to Mon Ilson’s plans, Fleur and Horatio Cumberland.

The problem was only the agent of my apparent treachery knew that. The spirit of a murdered girl, Marjorie Gilbert. She had taken over my mind and had deluded me into believing I loved Mon Ilson, and deceived him into believing it too. She’d also tricked him into giving her advanced knowledge of witchcraft. My anger at her was tempered by the realisation she had not done this to me out of maliciousness, but so she could regain her body which had been stolen by Mon Ilson’s goblins. Because she loved me, Marjorie had confessed this, and passed on all the magical powers and knowledge Mon Ilson had given her, including the ability to hide my deepest thoughts.

That was the past. I had committed myself to saving humanity from enslavement at my husband’s hands. How I would accomplish this I did not know. I was impatient. Biding my time waiting for an opportunity to present itself was both frustrating and dangerous. Not only could I be discovered, but I ran the greater risk of letting my growing love for Mon Ilson blind me to the chance if it arose, and then could I bring myself to exploit it? That I had come to love him no longer surprised me. Over the last year I’d learned his dreams, ruled alongside him, and shared his bed. I’d seen firsthand what an extraordinary and charismatic man he was, and in other circumstances I would have unreservedly given him my heart and soul. However, those benign conditions did not exist. The reality was Mon Ilson was a murderer.

A moan escaped my lips as Mon Ilson caressed a hardening nipple. We were lying on a couch in the top deck of the royal barge, he behind me, with one leg draped over my hip. In the crease of my posterior his cock stirred.

I wiggled against him. “Make love to me,” I murmured.

“That was my intention.”

My husband deftly lifted the hem of my robe and pressed the swollen head of his cock against my quim. He gently nudged apart the moist lips and effortlessly slid inside. With a slight adjustment of his hips the tip of his cock touched that especially sensitive flesh on the roof of my cunny. Pure pleasure flooded my system.

Mon Ilson was over a thousand years old, and with countless sexual liaisons behind him he had developed techniques that ensured a woman’s complete satisfaction, and men too. He used sexual magic to bond his people to him after he transferred their spirits from their goblin bodies into the vacant husks of murdered humans, a process they termed Adoption.

When Marjorie had occupied my mind she would stimulate my senses from the inside, maximising my pleasure, and bonding me even more tightly to Mon Ilson’s influence, and made him even more convinced of his devotion to me. He had been trapped in Marjorie’s web of deceit just as tightly as I had. His hold over his people was not just through sexual magic, but the promise of eternal life. Only he could give them that. Only he could transfer their goblin souls into human bodies. That was why Marjorie stayed his servant, hoping to learn the trick. Though she had possessed me, she didn’t know how. That was the one secret Mon Ilson did not share with her. Marjorie wanted so much to live, over and over again, that she would do anything for him.

Now that she was gone from my mind, my physical reactions to his lovemaking were under my control. To overcome my natural aversion to him — a murdering megalomaniac goblin in a human body — I used magic to bury my repugnance, project lustful thoughts, and intensify my physical reactions.

“Fuck me harder,” I encouraged him.

His technique, with my magic, quickly filled my body with the pulsating energy that took me to the precipice of climax, a cliff edge from which I gladly launched myself, and was lifted like a skyrocket to an explosive culmination.

My response caused him to reach his own conclusion, and he filled me with his copious essence. He wanted children, and my tardiness to provide the gift was, from his perspective, the only negative aspect in our relationship. Not that he put any pressure on me — he loved me too much, but I’d felt his need. The reality was that any unnecessary delay would need to be explained and defended. I knew of no reason to defer the inevitable any longer. Though I had control of my fertility, when and by whom I became pregnant, it was not something I expected to enjoy despite my intention to use magic to remove the more onerous aspects that plague many women. At most it would be awkward. Being with child might give me the leverage I needed to control Mon Ilson’s ambitions and hopefully mitigate the worst excesses of the invasion, if not avoid it completely.

My husband’s kisses became more fervent, and he resumed his lusty thrusts. He used his own magic to remain hard, and he fucked me to another shattering climax. Another glut of his seed filled me to overflowing, and those fireworks exploded in my head once more. We lay in each other’s arms, his cock still rigid, while our ragged breathing slowly returned to normal.

“My Lord,” Gloria said diffidently. While we recovered, she had waited by the bed, head bowed, her hands clasped before her shaven quim. Gloria had befriended me after I’d been first kidnapped. She was blonde, with caramel eyes, and a deliciously curved mouth. Like all Lunarian women who’d adopted a human body, Gloria was not only beautiful with a spectacular bosom and narrow waist, but she was also obsessed with sex. I gave her a smile, and she nodded acknowledgement. “Nil Ilson, I am so sorry to interrupt. The humans have sent a vessel beyond the atmosphere.”

Mon Ilson sat up. “Have they really?”

Author Info:

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

Author on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mikala.ash.9

Author on Twitter: https://twitter.com/ash_mikala

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.

BOOK TOUR: Shadows of Memory by Abigail Hammond #SciFiRomance

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We’re celebrating the release of Shadows of Memory by Abigail Hammond! Read on for more details!

Shadows of Memory

Publication Date: January 5, 2024

Genre: Sci-Fi Mystery/ Romance

A scientific breakthrough. A twisted motive. A chance to regain everything that was lost.

Everyone in New Ancadium has been having the same dream. Nobody knows what caused it, or what it means. But the more time that passes, the more apparent it becomes that it was anything but ordinary.

Holly Beckett, an up and coming scientist, is pulled into the investigation against her will. In a desperate attempt to uncover the truth, she seeks help from trusted friends and dangerous criminals alike.

Oliver Cahill, an ordinary accountant, may be the key to solving the case—if Holly can help him before his brain, and his reality, is torn apart.

As the mystery unravels, new feelings blossom, old wounds are reopened, and reality is threatened.

The past might just destroy the future.

Available on Amazon

About the Author

My name is Abigail Hammond, but I always go by Abby. One of my thumbs is shorter than the other. I have absolutely no idea why, but it’s useful for those awkward times when you meet new people and you’re supposed to share a fun fact about yourself.

Thankfully, having unmatched thumbs in no way hinders my ability to write, so I’ll keep working on more books! My team consists of my amazing husband who handles the cover art and illustrations for my books, and my dog, who is my chief distraction officer. We live in sunny California and consume way too many tacos. Seriously, we eat tacos for dinner almost every day.

Abigail Hammond

Book Tour Organized By:

R&R Book Tours

BOOK BLITZ & GIVEAWAY: Heartless by Grave Goodwin #SciFiRomance

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Heartless
Grace Goodwin
Publication date: June 27th 2023
Genres: Adult, Romance, Science Fiction

Warrior. Doctor. Spy. I am Commander Helion, a heartless terror, relentless and unforgiving. Merciless.

My destiny is not to claim a female, to have a family, to be rendered helpless by love.

Despite this, I am matched. A beautiful human female is now mine. Despite my warnings, she is determined to leave her mark on me, body and soul.

Honor demands I resist. I tell her the truth. I will not place a mating collar around her neck. I cannot protect her—especially from me—my choices—the horrors I face every day.

Just one moment of weakness and she gets under my skin, makes me want things I cannot have. She is everything I am not—and the most dangerous creature I have ever faced.

Claiming her—keeping her—is not possible with my pivotal role in this never-ending war. There is no place in my duties for desire. For need. Too many innocents count on me for protection. Too many lives are at stake, including hers.

The enemy is always ready and waiting, but I never expected her to be among them.

For the first time in my hardened life, I question my sanity. My dark soul. I begin to understand exactly what my enemies have stolen from me—and realize there is no limit to what a heartless warrior will sacrifice for love.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

Oh, heck yes. I was ready for lots of mind-blowing private time with two hot mates. Sooooo, ready. My body had been willing for a while. My mind had taken its sweet time catching up.

Now every part of me was fully on board. Heart. Mind. Body. Two mates? So very, very naughty. I squirmed, just a bit. I couldn’t keep the restless need from escaping. I hadn’t been touched by a man in so long. I tried to recall the last time—before the—before that. I couldn’t remember clearly, but I was pretty sure it had been years.

“The transport window is closing, my lady. If we wait much longer, I will need to delay your departure.” The Prillon warrior in control of the transport pad interrupted our long goodbye.

“Of course. So sorry.” I gave Makayla one final, super-tight hug, and walked up the few stairs to join my soon-to-be transported suitcase so we could be flung across the galaxy.

The officer nodded, his large hands moving competently over the controls.

Would my mates touch me with that level of intense concentration?

Were their hands that big? That skilled?

What was wrong with me? I was thinking like a horny teenager.

“Are you ready, my lady?” The transport officer had kind eyes. He knew where I was going. And why. I nodded. The hum of the transport pad rose up from the floor like an electricity bath. The extra energy building up for my jump through space made me squirm like a shelter puppy about to be released from its cage. Finally free.

Oh, yes. I was ready to meet my new mate.

Commander Zarren Helion.

Even his name sounded formidable.

I just knew he was going to be one hundred percent perfect.

***

Commander Zarren Helion, Intelligence Core, Black Fleet, Sector 438

The Prillon warrior sitting before me bled from multiple wounds, none fatal, each strategically placed to inflict maximum pain. Lieutenant Oberan Arcas of Prillon Prime.

I have to break him.


Author Bio:

Grace Goodwin is a USA Today and international bestselling author of Sci-Fi and Paranormal romance with nearly one million books sold. Grace’s titles are available worldwide in multiple languages in ebook, print and audio formats. Two best friends, one left-brained, the other right-brained, make up the award-winning writing duo that is Grace Goodwin. They are both mothers, escape room enthusiasts, avid readers and intrepid defenders of their preferred beverages. (There may or may not be an ongoing tea vs. coffee war occurring during their daily communications.) Grace loves to hear from readers.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Newsletter / Bookbub


GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

—

NOW AVAILABLE: PhilCon or Bust by Stephanie Burke #Giveaway #RomCom #SciFiRomance @changelingpress @FlashyCat

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Jabel came for the hot Earth girls. So what if they only have two eyes and no tails. Earth girls are easy, right?

Libby did not come looking for love. In fact, she didn’t even come to get laid. Sex can be interesting when you’re a transgendered woman, and the last thing she wanted to do was risk her body or her mind.

A one night stand is just what they both needed, but then there are assassins and sword fights, and kidnappings…

Whoever said convention life was easy, lied!

Get it today at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2023 Stephanie Burke

Joklim was a mighty warrior, and it showed in his every word and deed. He now stood overlooking the one egg in the hatchery, his gold eyes keen on the electronic readouts that showed this new egg’s development.

“Sponsor,” Jabel announced, leery of walking up behind the older warrior without making his presence known. He had done that once and, even with his enhanced reflexes, he could not dodge the instinctive blow that nearly knocked him out.

“Ha, Jabel.” Joklim turned, and the scarred visage of his Sponsor made Jabel want to stand at attention as he was taught in academy. “How fare you this glorious day?”

“I do well, Sponsor. My Preserver is more than pleased with my progress and now has several offers of Preservership.”

“Ka.” Joklim snorted, rolling all three of his eyes. It was a strange human concept that he had taken to before his own Corps service and had yet to stop. “Preservership does not make the warrior. It is the combination of lines that create the male, the tutorage of his Advocate and Sponsor that gives him his heart, and the training and knowledge of the Preserver that settles it all into place.”

“Still, my Preserver has a lot of offers.”

“Which he will turn down.” Joklim spoke with confidence. “He has already laid claim to this newest hatching. I think he wants to prove the rearing of you was not a fluke.”

“Indeed.” Jabel chuckled. “If he managed to create more of me, I am not sure if the Imperium would be satisfied or horrified.”

“A little of each.” Joklim laughed, tossing his head back, his long black hair flowing down his back in its warrior braid. “But it is a new tradition that will keep them from growing stagnant.”

Jabel thought of the many punishments he had endured because of his stubborn nature and insubordination, but none of his trainers found fault with his skills. He was nearly undefeated, his one loss coming after several hours of hand-to-hand combat at the hands of his trainers early on in his training.

“I am going to Earth Con,” he informed him, watching as Joklim’s smile grew. “I intend to be there for the week-long event in the town known as Philly.”

“I assume there will be much debauchery?”

“You assume correctly.”

“Sex? Consuming of human spirits? Sex?”

“Yes.”

“Take note that I said sex twice, Jabel. I am quite sure you can do my legacy proud.”

“I intend to.”

“Very good.” Joklim took his pleasure almost as seriously as he took his warfare. “If there are problems, an old ally of mine is stationed on earth. Mikhale Fas-something or the other.” Joklim nibbled on his bottom lip, and Jabel felt a flush of pleasure when he realized how like his Sponsor he looked.

They both possessed the long black hair of the Amiret line as well as the tall, muscular form. The difference was in their complexions. Joklim was paler in skin coloration while Jabel was a creamy light brown, the combination of Advocate and Sponsor showing in his skin. They were both of a build, though Joklim’s handsome visage was marred by several battle scars that proved his experience in battling the Dark Ones.

“He knows of the people of Earth and their ways. If there is a need, he can assist you.”

“I thank you, Sponsor.”

Joklim reached out and pulled his first hatchling into his arms, and Jabel relaxed into the hold. He was no longer a youngling to court affection from his Sponsor, but nevertheless, he felt the love and regard his Sponsor held for him.

“Now off with you.” Joklim released him, holding him at arm’s length as he examined him from head to toe. “Have fun, youngling. All too soon, you will be facing the perils of war.”

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.

Find Stephanie Burke Online: Blog | Facebook | Twitter

Enter the Giveaway by clicking the image below.

Giveaway ends February 25, 2023

New Release: Deviants by Treva Harte #RomCom #SciFiRomance @HarteTreva

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Tierra, Where men are men, women are women, and the two never, ever mingle — until Earthling Tory shakes things up.

The Deviants: “I wish men lived on another planet!” Tory wasn’t thinking when she blurted out those words to a strange woman at a bar. Now she’s in Femmeland, a planet where all the inhabitants are female and where heterosexuals are considered deviants. Tory wouldn’t mind indulging in a little deviancy if she could just find herself a male of the same mind…

Changing the Odds: Dag’s made some powerful enemies in Androvia. He’s determined to keep his incredibly sexy body to himself. You can’t do that too often in Androvia, or you end up battered and left for dead in Femmeland. Right now, Femmeland doesn’t sound as bad as going home, especially since he’s met Rhoanna.

World Enough: Treason is the worst crime known to either Femmeland or Androvia, and both countries think Faye Blaise has committed that crime. Edmond Jarvish relishes a good challenge. No other solicitor will defend Faye. He prays he’s as good as his reputation because the punishment for treason is death.

Welcome to the hilarious and erotic world of The Deviants.

Get it at Amazon

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2021 Treva Harte
Excerpt from The Deviants

“Cheryl, I swear I’d be really happy if men were just swept up and sent to another planet.” Tory stared down at her glass of beer. Two other women at the bar overheard her and giggled. Tory lowered her voice. “I mean, this is the final humiliation. Can you believe that Jeff was lying to me? Jeff!”

“Well, we always said he was too good to be true.” Cheryl signaled the waitress for another tonic water.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it that way. I believed he was in love with me and that he was going to get around to asking me to marry him in a few weeks or so and… Stop laughing, Cheryl.” Tory put her chin in her hands. “I really did. Then I find out he’s been hot for some little clerk in his own office the entire time. He used me! He used me to make her jealous.”

“I don’t hear you saying you’re brokenhearted about the whole thing, though.” Cheryl didn’t sound too concerned. Of course, they’d known each other a long time.

“Well, I ought to be.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Jeff may be the last heterosexual single male on the planet who seriously wanted me. I mean, who I thought seriously wanted me. I was working up an interest in him.” Tory tried not to sound defensive.

“Oh yeah. I could tell.”

“I was.”

“Don’t strain yourself.” Cheryl looked at her knowingly.

Tory began to laugh. “I do love you, Cheryl. It’s too bad I can’t change my sexual preference. You’d be a great partner. You’ve got it all — you’re good-looking, you and I can talk together about anything…”

Her best friend grinned. “I’m six months’ pregnant with my husband’s child,” Cheryl reminded her. “My hormones may be out of whack, but this really wouldn’t be the time to adopt an alternative lifestyle.”

The two of them laughed. Cheryl patted Victoria on the shoulder. “You’re gorgeous. I’d kill to have that strawberry-blonde hair of yours. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re great to be around. Don’t worry. You’ll meet the perfect guy for you.”

Tory smiled but wondered how often Cheryl had repeated that mantra to her over the years. They used to say things like that to each other when they were single and temporarily manless. But Cheryl had made it happen for herself years ago. Tory was twenty-eight and figured things were definitely not going according to plan.

“Listen, I already kept you and the baby up late enough. Why don’t we call it a night?” Tory put some money on the bar for a tip and Cheryl carefully got down from the barstool.

“My back is killing me, I must admit.” Cheryl rubbed it as they walked to the door.

They got to the little parking lot outside and Cheryl carefully eased into her Camry. Tory sighed. Cheryl even had a married woman’s car. She waved to her friend as she left the parking lot and then took her car keys and walked over to her Cabrio.

Tory looked at the car. She’d bought the Cabrio to make a statement. It stated she was single. Single women bought cute little convertible cars. Was that the right statement to make? She didn’t know anymore. It didn’t seem to be getting her much in the way of action.

The two giggling women from the bar walked out into the parking lot behind her. Victoria put her key in the door lock and decided there was something wrong in the world when all these women couldn’t find dates for a Friday night.

“And we’re not the ones that are wrong. It’s men.” Tory hastily looked around, hoping no one had heard her talking to herself. Oh oh. The two women were looking at her now.

One of the pair walked over to her and smiled, hesitantly.

“I’m sorry.” The woman spoke English perfectly — maybe just a little too perfectly. She didn’t sound American. “We seem to be lost. Could you point us in the right direction on our map?”

The other woman held up her map, looking confused.

They were nice-looking women. She’d noticed them at the bar the minute they sat next to Cheryl. One was tall and blonde, the other petite and brown-haired. Tory decided to feel sorry for them as well. After all, they were as alone as she was on a date night. Any man ought to want them, she thought with a glower. In fact, he ought to want all three of them.

Her eyes narrowed. Or at least there should be one man for each woman.

Yeah. That was it.

“Sure, I can probably help.” Tory walked toward them. “Where do you need to go?”

She felt a sharp prick in her arm and looked down. Was that a needle? Before she could figure it out, she saw nothing but blackness and could feel herself pitching forward…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Treva Harte has always been an overachiever. She also collects things. First it was degrees. First a B.A. in English, then she decided to go back for a Master’s degree. Not content with that, she added a J.D. Since then she’s added a husband, also an attorney, and two children to her collection. She’s continuing her ways as an overachiever, writing her wonderfully offbeat tales of passion and possibilities — in her spare time.