Release Blitz & Review: The House on Druid Lake by Isabelle Adler #LGBTQ #paranormalromance #bookreview @ninestarpress @GoIndiMarketing

Title: The House on Druid Lake

Author: Isabelle Adler

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/04/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 69300

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, gay, PNR, Halloween, haunted house, shifters, architect, mystery/suspense, office drama, ghost, mythical creatures, werewolf

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Description

A new city, a new job, a new home—things are definitely looking up for Oliver Foster. An aspiring young architect, embarking on a successful career in Baltimore, all he wants is to put the pain of a broken heart and broken trust behind him. The last thing he needs is another ill-advised romantic entanglement. But despite his best intentions, Oliver can’t help his growing fascination with Nym Brown, the mysterious owner of Lakeside Lodge.

When Oliver rents an apartment in an old Victorian house overlooking Baltimore’s Druid Lake, he expects it to be quaint and shabbily charming. But as Halloween draws near and all things spooky come out to play, Oliver becomes convinced there is more going on at Lakeside Lodge than meets the eye, aside from the faulty plumbing. His neighbors are a whole new definition of quirky, and his enigmatic, gruff landlord is both intimidating and dangerously attractive.

Dark and sinister secrets lurk behind the house on Druid Lake’s crumbling façade. Unearthing them might yet put Oliver’s future—and his heart—on the line.

Excerpt

The House on Druid Lake
Isabelle Adler © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Lakeside Lodge looked more like Dracula’s castle than a gingerbread house.

Oliver paused on the stone steps that cut across a long grass knoll and peered up at his new place of residence. It was difficult to get a proper look at the house from the road, obscured as it was by the tall chestnut oaks and red maples that surrounded it. But from this viewpoint, just outside the wrought-iron gate, the massive gable above the front porch was clearly visible, as was the turret on the right side of the roof.

Comparing the house to a castle was perhaps an exaggeration, at least where size was concerned. But it certainly possessed an old-world fairy-tale charm and an intangible aura of mystery. It had been evident even in the few photos that accompanied the online listing which had sold Oliver on it in the first place, making him contact the real estate agent and take it sight unseen. Well, that and the exceptionally low rent combined with the nice location right on Druid Lake and next to the park, just a few minutes’ drive away from Oliver’s new job in Central Baltimore.

Also, Jake would’ve hated it, and Oliver felt a particular satisfaction about no longer having to conform to Jake’s plans and wishes.

However, now that Oliver stood in front of the house in the failing light of an early October afternoon, a heavy duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he couldn’t deny there was something disquieting, even disturbing, about the jumble of architectural elements piled in a haphazard fashion. The building was three stories high, crowned with a shingled mansard roof with prominent dormer windows which must have commanded a stunning view of the lake across the road. A wide front porch boasted square tapered columns, and a fanciful pediment in the shape of a stylized owl with outspread wings adorned the gable. It was very Victorian, with touches of Gothic Revival and American Craftsman thrown into the mix. But the style skewed heavily to whimsical as if the architect (or maybe the owner) couldn’t stop themselves from adding all their favorite design elements to the project. Like a magpie decorating its nest with every manner of shiny, without sparing a thought to the harmony of it all. The end result, though imposing, was more reminiscent of a cheesy B-movie haunted mansion than an actual apartment building, old as it might be. The wilted lawn and unkempt tree garden that stretched into the backyard didn’t help the impression, though the grounds, as befitting a mansion, were much more expansive than those of any of the neighboring properties.

By the time Oliver climbed the stairs to the porch, he’d begun to suspect the reason for the low rent. Up close, everything exhibited signs of mild, to even prominent, disrepair. The wooden handrails were chipped, with some of the spindles broken or missing, and the shallow steps creaked dangerously under Oliver’s weight, whose physique had once been described by his best friend, Pam, as “waifish.” For the first time since he’d boarded the plane to Baltimore, equipped with a healthy supply of hopeful enthusiasm and a single bag containing his most prized belongings, doubt stirred at the back of his mind.

Oliver tried the handle, but the front door was locked. There also wasn’t any sign of an intercom, which left either the grimy doorbell button or the heavy brass knocker. Oliver chose to knock and then listened as the sound echoed dully within until everything was still again. He’d shielded his eyes and stood on his toes, trying to peek through the stained-glass transom window when the door was suddenly yanked open, and he came face-to-face with a wall of plaid.

“What do you want?” a gruff voice boomed.

Oliver risked lifting his gaze. The voice belonged to a tall, broad-shouldered man blocking the doorway. Oliver resisted the urge to take a step back under his annoyed glare.

“Hi,” he offered. “I’m Oliver Foster. I’m here about the apartment I rented.”

That last sentence came out more as a question than a statement, his voice rising in pitch, and Oliver winced internally.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose while the man regarded him in sullen silence. Finally, he opened the door wider and stepped back, granting Oliver access with a wave of his hand.

A single overhead light illuminated the hallway. A threadbare patterned rug spanned the length of it, leading toward a dark mahogany staircase at the back. Tiny brass plaques, tarnished with age, marked the apartment numbers on slotted mailboxes hanging on the wall to his right. Below them stood an empty black lacquered umbrella bucket. A faint smell of dust and mildew permeated the air, and Oliver’s earlier premonition about the state of his chosen accommodations intensified.

“What an unusual place,” he ventured, still determined not to give in to negativity. “Must have a lot of history.”

The man grunted, studying him from under drawn eyebrows. His eyes, the color of light amber, glinted in the low light. Together with his pale skin, overgrown dark hair, and menacing stance, they created an unnerving effect. Oliver shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, wondering whether the scowl was directed at him, or if it was simply a part of the man’s natural disposition.

“Where’s your luggage?” the man asked.

Oliver blinked.

“It’s only this.” He indicated his bag. “I’m having the rest of my stuff shipped over. I gathered the apartment came fully furnished?”

“Yeah.” The man turned and walked toward the staircase, forcing Oliver to trail after him. “My name’s Brown. I’m the landlord and building super. My apartment is across the hall from yours.”

They passed what appeared to be a large sitting parlor on one side of the hallway and a closed door on the other, but Brown stopped at neither. They climbed one flight of stairs to the first-floor landing, ancient floorboards groaning with their every step. Oliver clutched the banister, but Brown seemed unconcerned about the possibility of the staircase crumbling under his powerful frame.

“Why don’t you leave the front door open?” Oliver asked. “What about mail and delivery people?”

“They know to leave stuff on the porch,” Brown said without turning. “Usually whoever comes home first brings the mail in.”

This was…a curious arrangement. Oliver wasn’t sure he liked the idea of his landlord or his neighbors sifting through his mail.

“Aren’t you afraid someone might steal your packages?” he ventured. “It’s a rather busy street.”

Brown did turn to him then, pausing for a moment on the top stair and looking down at him.

“All the more reason to keep the door locked. Besides, no one is stupid enough to steal from here,” he said and continued on, leaving Oliver gaping at the inconsistency of those two statements.

There were only two apartment doors on the landing, facing each other across a narrow stretch of hall. Another small door, perhaps a utility closet, was tucked under the stairs. Brown produced a key from the front pocket of his flannel shirt, unlocked the door marked 1B, and gestured for Oliver to follow inside.

Oliver would be lying if he said he didn’t cross the threshold with some trepidation, given the overall shabbiness, but as Brown flicked on the lights, he could see nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, the apartment was much sparser than he’d imagined. The living room, with its high windows, ornate cornices, and a fireplace tucked in a corner, opened into a small kitchen outfitted with decades-old appliances and laminate flooring. A long couch faced the windows and the wall between them, but as far as Oliver could see, there was no TV.

This looked much closer to the pictures in the posting than the dilapidated exterior, at least. And everything was clean. Worn out, certainly, but not dirty. Someone must have put in the work of scrubbing the hardwood floors and giving the walls a fresh lick of paint as the whole place smelled of pine-scented cleaner rather than mildew. Oliver lowered his duffel bag onto the floor, next to the narrow side table by the entrance, and took a cautious step inside, taking in his surroundings.

“There are some towels and bedding in the linen closet next to the bathroom,” Brown said, pausing by the breakfast counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. “If you want hot water, I suggest showering in the mornings. It can run out quickly this time of year, especially in the evenings.”

An image of Brown standing in the shower, a stream of steaming water gliding over his skin and plastering his dark hair to his forehead popped unbidden into Oliver’s mind. It was as sudden as it was surprising, considering the man’s complete lack of geniality. Oliver cleared his throat and turned to the windows to conceal his blush, shivering with the draft that made the heavy curtains flutter. He was simply tired from his flight, letting his thoughts wander in silly directions.

“Okay. Is there anything else I should know, Mr. Brown?” It didn’t help matters that he could still see the man’s faint reflection in the windowpane, set against the gathering gloom outside.

“Rent is due on the first of every month. I’ll send you the link for the pay app for this month’s fee and deposit.”

“Or I can just slide the envelope with the cash under your door.”

Brown’s reflection frowned.

“You know,” Oliver said, “because it’s all so old-fashioned around here?” He paused for effect. There was only silence. “Forget it; it was a bad joke.”

“I don’t care either way, as long as you pay on time,” Brown said gruffly. “Takes a lot to keep this place up and running.”

Oliver supposed it was true. Old buildings were notorious money pits where maintenance was concerned, and from what he’d seen so far, the “up and running” part was a bit of a stretch. What the house needed was nothing short of a complete overhaul, but he judged it better not to say so to the landlord.

“Here are your keys.” They jingled as Brown put them on the entrance side table. “One for the apartment and one for the front door. I’m right across the hall if you need anything.”

He somehow managed to make it sound like a warning rather than an invitation.

“Um, sure,” Oliver said, turning back to him. He hoped he’d composed himself enough not to betray his earlier embarrassment. “Wait. Can you recommend a place where I can order takeout? After that airplane food, I’m kinda starving.”

He’d have to do some grocery shopping tomorrow after work, but he had absolutely nothing planned for dinner tonight. As if to emphasize his words, his stomach rumbled, too loud in the quiet of the room, and he flushed again, the heat creeping up to his hairline.

Brown’s gaze traveled from Oliver’s feet to his face as if taking his measure.

“There’s a decent pizza joint nearby,” he said. “I can get you their menu flier.”

“That’d be great!” Oliver said, sounding fake cheerful to his own ears. The conversation, mundane as it was, had made him more and more flustered. Or was it the other man’s looming presence? Either way, Oliver couldn’t wait to be alone and get settled, preferably after a nice, hot meal.

Brown nodded and turned to leave without sparing another word. The door closed softly behind him, leaving Oliver alone, with only the ticking of the mantle clock to fill the silence.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

My review – 5 stars!

The House on Druid Lake has a slow build that feels slightly like a horror romance in the beginning until making an abrupt shift into a definite paranormal romance… but that’s part of what I loved. It kept me guessing, unsure what to expect or how it would turn out in the end.

The relationship between Nym and Oliver gets off to a rocky start, has a rough middle, but thankfully ends with a happy ever after — or at least a happy for now. I would seriously love to read more about the characters in The House on Druid Lake so my fingers are crossed there will be more books set in this world.

The House on Druid Lake has a bit of mystery, romance, and friendships with a paranormal spin. Perfect reading to get you in the mood for Halloween! Ms. Adler has a true gift and I’m eager to see what she’ll write next.

*Disclaimer: I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review. The review above is only my opinion.

Meet the Author

A voracious reader from the age of five, Isabelle Adler has always dreamed of one day putting her own stories into writing. She loves traveling, art, and science, and finds inspiration in all of these. Her favorite genres include sci-fi, fantasy, and historical adventure. She also firmly believes in the unlimited powers of imagination and caffeine.

Website | Twitter

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Cover Reveal: Claimed by the Moon by L.P. Dover #paranormalromance #shifters @LPDover

Title: Claimed by the Moon
Series: Royal Shifters Novel
Author: L.P. Dover
Genre: Paranormal Shifter Romance
Release Date: September 28, 2021
Cover Design: RBA Designs
Photographer: Regina Wamba




In his 200 years of life, Zayne Lyall has made his share of enemies. The most ruthless of all being Knox Channon, who seeks vengeance for a pack war that took place over a hundred years ago.

To gain information he can use to bring Zayne down, Knox reconnects with Amelie Graye, a past love who joined the Royal pack Zayne belongs to. Unfortunately, Amelie doesn’t know much about the royal arctic… despite a longing within her to be near him.

Amelie and Knox have a tumultuous past that ended after she and her family went rogue following an attack by the Sierra pack. While she has no details to offer about Zayne, Knox sniffing around her leaves his inner wolf snarling.

More than anything Zayne wants to charge in and protect the woman his heart aches for. But he has a secret… and it could cost him everything. Amelie is his fated mate. If Knox were to discover this, he would know hurting her would be the key to destroying Zayne. Torn between his desire to claim Amelie as his own and his ferocious passion to protect her, can Zayne find a way to bring down his malicious enemy? Or will an age old vendetta rob him of a blissful future with his bonded mate?








New York Times and USA Today bestselling author L. P. Dover is a southern belle living in North Carolina with her husband and two beautiful girls. Everything’s sweeter in the South has always been her mantra and she lives by it, whether it’s with her writing or in her everyday life. Maybe that’s why she’s seriously addicted to chocolate.

Dover has written countless novels in several different genres, including a children’s book with her daughter. Her favorite to write is romantic suspense, but she’s also found a passion in romantic comedy. She loves to make people laugh which is why you’ll never see her without a smile on her face.



HOSTED BY:

Extra Cream by J. Hali Steele – now in paperback! #shifters #paranormalromance @JHaliSteele

With Extra Cream: Getting enough cream is a problem for this cat… Jag Arizon has a plan to correct that. A jaguar of the Kind species, big cats infected with vampyre blood, he walks in both worlds. Aside from blood, he’s addicted to cream, and only one person can cure him. In convincing her to donate to his cause, Jag gets much more than he bargained for.

Hot Tin Roof: Leron Wilder is a jaguar of the Kind species, big cat shifters infected with vampyre blood. Nothing has gone right for Leron since his best friend Jag mated with the owner of the local coffee shop. Corinne Nelson loves her new home and her new job as a waitress at the Coffee Swirl, and she’s really hoping she won’t have to move on this time. Life’s finally looking up — until the hottest man she’s ever met walks into the shop — and licks her hand?

Cougar by the Tail: Trent Dallion is screwed. A wily little cougar has him by the balls — and he can’t get loose! Did she mean it when she thanked him for killing her brother? Or is she playing a game of cat and mouse, waiting for revenge?

Zader’s Menagerie: The right wolf will make this cat howl at the moon. Zader Montana is Sovereign Kind, a mountain lion infected with vampyre blood. He refuses to embrace his undead half, the part of him that prowls the night looking for the she-wolf he desires. His problem — she’s mated to the alpha of the wolf pack sharing his mountaintop.

Get it at Amazon

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2021 J. Hali Steele
Excerpt from 
With Extra Cream

The lot at the Coffee Swirl filled up fast. Leron saw Jag’s Lotus right in front. He really did miss the guy. He couldn’t pop in on him like he used to in the mornings, not with Barbara there, but he could always catch him at the Swirl.

“Now, the Lotus, that’s a real car.”

“Jesus Christ, get the fuck out of my car, Trent. You better pray Jag will take your ass back to the compound.”

“I’ll ride with him because you’re in a pissy mood.”

Leron stepped from the car and slammed the door shut, wincing at the force he used. He bounded up the steps, taking two at a time. He walked inside and saw Jag’s head come up immediately in the booth where they usually sat.

“Hey, man. How you been? Trent, what’s up?” Jag looked happy as hell to see him and that improved Leron’s mood a little.

“Stopped by to catch up, check on how you’re doing.”

“He misses you,” Trent chimed in.

Leron wheeled around, collared the youngster, and slammed him against the plate glass window. His temper was on a short fuse today. His claws had begun to emerge when he heard Barbara’s voice. “Let him go, Leron.”

Shit. He brushed his hand down the front of Trent’s tee. “Just straightening the kid up a bit. He’s sloppy.” A hiss whistled past his teeth. “Sorry, Barb.”

“I’ll get you a coffee, you go talk to Jag. By the way, he misses you too.” She grinned and went behind the counter. She’d made him happy. Leron had started to feel like a girly-man pining away for the company of his best friend. It was good to know his buddy felt the same way.

He flopped into the seat across from Jag and grinned at the cat.

“Kid getting on your nerves?”

“He’s everywhere, always into something. Thinks he’s a badass.”

The door to the back of the shop opened, and Leron glanced up. His nostrils flared at the magnificent smell that assailed him. Citrus, which reminded him of oranges.

Long, honey-colored hair flew in a spray around slender shoulders as the woman spun with a tray in her hand. He caught his breath and held it. Christ, she was tall. The most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Hazel eyes glanced across the room and locked with his. A whoosh of air left his mouth on a moan.

“Easy, big guy,” Jag said, following the direction of his eyes.

“Who is she?”

“Corinne. Cory Nelson. Things picked up a bit so Barb hired her. She’s new in town and needed a job.”

“Where’s she from?”

“I could ask Barb. Why?”

Leron faced Jag. “No particular reason.” His heart beat like a drum. Her scent wafted across the room and teased him. The day had just gotten better. He rolled his head around, but the muscles remained tight. His fangs tingled. This wasn’t a feeling he liked. Damn, maybe the guy he fed from that morning did drugs or something.

“Leron, you okay?”

“I don’t know. Lately I’ve been a little distracted. That’s all. Want to get together at the compound tonight? A bunch of us are going to hang out.”

“Sure. I’ve been meaning to come by anyway. I’ll let Barb know.” The joy that lit Jag’s face was pathetic. Leron hoped he never got pussy whipped like that.

“Here’s your black coffee.” It was her. The silken sound of her voice slid right down to his cock. As she was putting his cup on the table, he tried to touch her hand. She pulled away and the hot liquid sloshed over the side and burned her hand. The cup rattled in the saucer and tilted over. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.”

Leron spoke quickly. “It was my fault. Are you okay? Let me look.” An angry red blister had already formed on the back of her hand. His cat instincts took over and he brought her hand to his mouth and began to lick the red welt. His tongue lapped at her like she was today’s special. He had lost his mind and didn’t know where the fuck to find it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A multi-published author, J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings, or fangs, so she can stay warm, fly, or just plain bite the crap out of… Well, since she can’t, she would much rather roam where her fictional big cats live — in the high desert of California. Discovering a new love of contemporary male/male erotica has flipped a switch she can’t turn off, so she hopes eventually it drifts back into her otherworldly realm.

When J. Hali’s not writing, she can be found snuggled in front of the TV with a good book, a cat in her lap, and a cup of coffee.

Growl and roar — it’s okay to let the beast out.

Romance Book Box Giveaway #bookgiveaway #romancebooks

It’s summertime in the US! How many of you are planning vacations, or perhaps a stay-cation filled with lots of reading time?

Do you want a chance to win this Changeling Press book box, charm bracelet, necklace, door hanger, and padded envelope of author swag? The box contains a range of romances from paranormal to scifi to contemporary. Two of the titles are anthologies that contain one or more LGBTQ romances. The full list of titles and genres are listed below.

Open until July 25, 2021

Box contains the following books:

Desire Island by Shelby Morgen, Stephanie Burke, and Treva Harte

Desire Island — a gateway to the heart’s deepest desire, to passion’s heat, to love.

Paranormal/Futuristic Romance

Preacher with Ryker & Badger by Harley Wylde (signed)

I lost the love of my life and vowed to never love again. Until temptation walked through the door.

Biker/Age-Gap Romance

All Wrapped Up Vol. 1 by Angela Knight, Dakota Cassidy, and Kate Hill

Vampires, Shifters, and Destined Mates search for their Happy Ever After on the paranormal side…

Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi Romance

Neko by Ana Raine

Collin has loved Adrian for over a decade but can he trust his future to the Prince of the Demons?

Dark Fantasy/Gay Romance

Cardboard Hero/Wild Geese by Shelby Morgen (signed)

Tory’s falling in love with her hero — she’s just not sure which one.

Paranormal Romance

Lionsblood by Marteeka Karland

In Earth’s brutal, future frozen, the Lionsblood claim what they want, and never look back.

Shapeshifters/Sci-Fi Romance

Vaaden Captives & Warriors by Jessica Coulter Smith (signed)

When Vaaden warriors claim slaves from Earth they will face emotions they never knew they possessed.

Slave/Sci-Fi Romance

Rookery Cove by Kira Stone, Stephanie Burke, Jade Buchanan, Emma Ray Garrett, Tuesday Morrigan, and Lacey Savage

Rookery Cove Aphrodisiacs: Here to satisfy the intimate needs of every paranormal.

LGBTQ/Paranormal Romance

Venom/Torch by Harley Wylde (signed)

One f**king look. That’s all it took. I branded her. I let her go. Now she’s back, and she’s mine.

Biker/Age-Gap Romance

Cain/Bohanan by Marteeka Karland (signed)

This biker’s the hottest guy I’ve ever come across. Resisting isn’t something I’m even going to try.

Biker/Age-Gap Romance

Some of the swag items, like bookmarks, are also signed.

Click the link to enter: a Rafflecopter giveaway

Giveaway sponsored by Harley Wylde & Books+Coffee=Happiness book blog. No purchase necessary to enter. Open to US residents only. Void where prohibited. Must be 18+ years of age to enter. Please read the full terms and conditions at Rafflecopter.

New Release: Dawg Town Tails box set #paranormalromance @marteekakarland @annekane @Lena_Austin

One very special town. A whole lot of very bad — and very hot — Dawgs. Prairie Dawgs, that is…

Anne Kane — Hustle: A game of pool turns into a sexy seduction, Prairie Dawg style.

Lena Austin — Bad Dawg: One OTR trucker. One leather-clad biker. One very special town.

Marteeka Karland — Hot Dawg: Selene’s hot pink Harley is pointed straight to adventure, Dawg Town style.

Camille Anthony — Puppy Dawg: It’ll take both hell and high water to set two stumbling lovers on the path to each other.

Tuesday Richards — Mad Dawg: Bryce’s bad started when he dodged a prairie dog and laid down his prized motorcycle… Can the day get any worse?

Get it today at Changeling Press

Preorder for May 21st at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 The Changelings
Excerpt from Hustle (Anne Kane)

Kaylee paused and stared at the prairie dog town that spread out endlessly across the flat terrain. Hundreds of the cute little critters popped their heads out of their burrows and started to whistle the minute she’d stepped out of her sporty little Miata in the parking lot of the Prairie Dawg Saloon. The full moon tonight must be affecting the furry little things.

She ran her fingers through her hair and pushed her way through the front doors of the saloon. The subdued roar of conversation she’d heard from the far end of the parking lot stopped as every male in the place turned to stare at her.

Great. She’d come here to blow off some steam. After a hellish day at work that culminated in that bitch of a boss firing her in a very public display of jealousy, she didn’t need a whole room full of people staring at her. She glared at the two men closest, a couple of burly biker types she’d normally drool over, and they quickly looked away. She turned her head to glare at the room in general and felt a surge of satisfaction when the men shrugged and went back to whatever it was they were discussing.

Pleased with herself, she stalked over to the bar and hopped up onto a barstool. A nice cold bottle of beer would go a long way toward helping her mellow out. She spotted the bartender talking to a dark-haired man farther down the bar. He straightened up when she caught his eye and headed toward her.

“Evenin’, ma’am. Name’s Bucky.” He studied her with open curiosity. “I don’t recall seeing you around before, but you look mighty familiar.”

Kaylee rolled her eyes. That had to be the lamest pickup line in the book, and she didn’t dignify it with an answer. “Give me a cold beer. Please.”

“Comin’ right up.” He gave her a bucktoothed grin and waddled off toward the cooler.

She eyed up his plump figure, struck by his amazing resemblance to the prairie dogs that lived in a huge warren of dens and burrows outside of town. The locals occasionally grumbled about the antics of the cute little rodents, but they were fiercely protective of them. “They may be a dang nuisance,” Aunt Cee often said, “but they’re our nuisances, and nobody’s going to hurt a hair on any one of their plump little butts.”

Well, cute as the prairie dogs were, a plump butt didn’t send any shivers of excitement down her spine. She swiveled on the bar stool and surveyed the prospects. For a notorious biker hangout, the action looked tame. Sure, most of the guys sported at least some leather…

“Blake. It must’ve been Blake.”

She turned back to the bar, frowning as she accepted the frosty bottle from Bucky. “What must have been Blake?”

“Sorry, sometimes I’m a bit hard to follow.” He gave her an apologetic shrug. “Blake was a real nice guy, friend of just about everyone here. He came in one day, bragging about this girl in town, real looker. Said he was going straight, going to marry her. Got picked off by a damn eagle the very next morning.” Bucky shook his head sadly. “Never did figure out who the girl was, but it must’ve been your mama. You’re the spittin’ image of him, and the scent is unmistakable.”

Kaylee stared at the chubby bartender in alarm. She assumed an eagle would have to be a rival biker gang, but what the hell did he mean by “scent”? Surely, he didn’t think she smelled like some guy he used to know! She picked up her beer and edged away from the bar. The last thing she needed today was another person flipping out.

A movement at the back of the bar caught her eye as a dark-haired biker sauntered across the well-worn dance floor. Snug fitting jeans showed off his tight butt as he leaned over an ancient jukebox and pushed a few buttons. An old country tune filled the air, and the man straightened, turning to face her.

Kaylee sucked in a deep breath as molten heat ignited deep inside her and she felt her pussy dampen. He caught her gaze, dark eyes smoldering with passion as he sauntered over to one of the well-worn tables and picked up a long-necked bottle, taking a deep swig. Tall and lean, he wore a tight tee shirt and a worn leather vest with those jeans. No plump butt on this one. Despite the sudden feeling that she was in way over her head, Kaylee found her herself drifting in the direction of the jukebox.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

ANNE KANE

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.

CAMILLE ANTHONY

A funny thing happened on the way to the grave…

In 2006, I was diagnosed with Pulmonary Sarcoidosis and given two weeks to live, whereupon I promptly discharged myself against medical advice, since, as I stubbornly informed the doctors, I could die at home far more comfortably than at the hospital. Resigned, I prepared to meet my maker. But then…

I got an idea for a new story. No way could I check out before finishing it. So I did. Then, another idea came, and another… These tales are all begging to be told and I couldn’t possibly ignore their vehement cries.

So there you have it. A new motivation to continue bringing you the stories I love to tell and that you love to read. As always, I encourage you to embrace adventure, even if the only journey you undertake is through the pages of a book. Enjoy every moment of this life we’re gifted with. Whatever you do, keep reading!

Peace!
Cammy

LENA AUSTIN

Someone cursed Lena Austin with “may you have a life so full you’ll have many tales to tell your grandchildren.” Lena’s a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She’s been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba — she’s got a lifetime of “Research material!”

Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won’t listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something?

MARTEEKA KARLAND

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.

TUESDAY RICHARDS

Tuesday Richards is a stay-at-home mom of two adorable (sometimes) children. She spends her time writing, reading, and taking care of the home she and her husband built together. With Love, Support, and Togetherness Tuesday is able to pour her imagination into her writing and pray her editor doesn’t kill her slowly! As for her name? No, her parents were not high or drunk — she was named after “Tuesday’s Gone” by Lynard Skynard.

Dawning by Mychael Black #GayRomance #shifters @changelingpress

What is it they say? No good deed goes unpunished?

Ren is on the run. His people have aligned themselves with every known mage cabal in the country to rise up and overrun the world above. As the head of House Daturi, he’d been expected to follow the other Houses and lead his own into war. Except he has no desire to fight — with anyone. Now he has two choices: fall in line or die as a traitor. Neither seems promising.

Arulas is a wolf shapeshifter who prefers to avoid contact with others, no matter the species. He has a cabin deep in the woods, nestled near the border of the Light Fae realm. He doesn’t bother them, and they don’t bother him. Until now, things were quite perfect. Then he finds a half-dead Dark Fae in the middle of nowhere. Not one to leave a man down, Arulas nurses the Dark Fae back to health, only to find himself square in the middle of a damn war.

Available at Changeling Press

Preorder for April 9th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

Rumors swirled among the peasantry that Zerin was under mage influence, but the pompous ass had been itching to get the Houses unified to take over the world above. Ren didn’t agree with such ambitions, and a part of him feared the consequences should Zerin’s war come to fruition.

“Lord Ren, what of House Daturi? Are you prepared?” one of the Council members asked.

Ren had been dreading the question. “I… yes. House Daturi is ready to march with the others,” he lied.

In truth, he didn’t care if House Daturi did or not. He had no intention of sticking around to watch. He’d packed his things a few days ago, what little he could carry, and only waited for the right time to leave. If he was careful, he could get above ground by morning. Of course, the second he was missed, there would be a price on his head the likes of which no Dark Fae had ever seen. They’d lost a few guards, but never anyone of Ren’s status. He had to do it quickly and quietly. He hated leaving his few lovers, but he couldn’t stay here any longer. Not with his sanity intact.

“Very good,” Zerin said from his dais at the front of the Council chamber. “This meeting is adjourned. We will reconvene in the morning to set our plans in motion.”

Dismissed, Ren and the other lords filed out of the chamber. Ren headed back toward the tunnel leading to his own keep, a good distance from House Vakeor. Each House’s territory branched off from House Vakeor’s, some several days’ journey away. Thankfully, House Daturi was only a few hours’ walk. He’d left his guards at his keep, more out of caution than anything else. He’d long since lost any trust in his own people, even those in his House. If Zerin wanted a war, so be it, but the man would have it without Ren’s aid. House Daturi’s followers could do as they pleased.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Myc has been writing professionally since 2005, solo and with Shayne Carmichael. Genres include pretty much anything (no steampunk yet), though Myc is well known for paranormal stories. When not writing, Myc is usually playing PC games, reading, watching Netflix, and spending way too much time on Facebook. Since the question has come up in the past, pronouns are not an issue. Myc is bio-female, mentally male, and 100% genderfluid, so any pronoun works!

Perfect Rhythm by Megan Slayer #LGBTQ #UrbanFantasy @MeganSlayer @changelingpress

The moment the king passed down the curse, Minos knew he wasn’t getting his voice back. He’s caused enough heartache for two lifetimes, but when he sees a handsome man struggling in the lake, his innate desire to protect comes to the surface.

John Leed just wants to be loved. When he comes out to his friends, instead of embracing him, they throw him overboard — into the arms of a merman. Once together, he realizes he’s found the partner he’s always wanted.

Minos is determined to protect this human. Can they forge a relationship or will the secrets in Minos’s past disrupt their perfect rhythm?

Available Now at Changeling Press

preorder for February 5th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Megan Slayer

I’ll never get my voice back. Minos swam through the lake with nowhere to go. He wished he had somewhere to be, but being banned, all he could do was linger.

He’d lost his purpose — working for the king — and his voice. Why? Because he’d trusted the wrong mer. Sure, he’d been partially to blame. He’d pursued Rian, the prince of the mers, a bit too heavily. In his defense, he’d thought Rian loved him.

He’d been so wrong.

He continued to swim and cursed the king’s decision to punish him. He didn’t deserve to be without a voice. No one could understand him, and he’d failed at expressing himself. His magic remained, but faded the longer he was punished. Where was this perfect being to complete him and fix the problem?

That being probably didn’t exist.

He couldn’t shake his anger. All he’d wanted was to be loved. He’d truly thought he had a connection with Rian, and that they could’ve even been partners.

Except he knew the truth. He and Rian would never be together. They weren’t couple material.

Fuck. He wished he had his voice back. His anger wasn’t going anywhere, but time made him realize he needed to apologize and be honest with not only Rian, but himself. He’d been terrible to Rian, and the guilt ate at him.

Minos surfaced. One thing he loved was the way the moon shimmered on the waves on the lake at night. The water was never calm, but the ripples reminded him of magic. Like the magic surrounded him. The glittery effect never lasted long, but was still dazzling.

He shook his hair out and surveyed the landscape. At night, the water and sky seemed to blend into endlessness.

The moonlight sparkled on the waves. He trailed his fingers through the dark water. The ripples mesmerized him. A sound filtered to him, and he tipped his head. The sound reminded him of a whistle or horn. A boat?

He glanced over his shoulder and spotted a vessel. He’d seen plenty of boats, and this one didn’t seem overly exciting. It was a bigger watercraft and had people lounging in the moonlight on the deck. They were partying and singing or playing music. One man appeared to have a drink in his hand.

Minos stayed out of sight from the boat and watched the humans. Two men stood at the railing. A woman reclined in a chair, and another one stepped out onto the deck. A third man held a big glass.

Minos hated playing the voyeur, but he couldn’t look away. He wanted a group of friends and a place to belong. Those people seemed carefree and happy.

Maybe he could approach them. One of these people could be his destiny. Was he supposed to talk to the humans? He wasn’t sure how without his voice, but he’d been wrong about the magic before.

He listened closer, but didn’t hear the music. His destiny would come with the specific song of his mate. If anyone in the boat could belong to him, then he would hear the unique tune.

Nothing.

The voices filtered to him again, though, and he honed in on the conversation.

“John wants to tell us something,” one of the women said. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. “He says it’s important.”

“Nothing with John is important.” The dark-haired man swatted at one of the women. “He’d have to speak up first, and he’s so shy.”

“And too dramatic.” The blond man laughed. “He can’t say anything too exciting.”

“Now, it might be important,” the other girl said. “My brother wanted that promotion at work. He’s good at his job and would be a great building manager. He’s been shift manager for a long time and proving himself.”

Minos dipped under the water to breathe. He had no idea what a building manager might be and wondered what it looked like. Did that mean the man was in charge of the boxes the humans lived in? Worked in? He surfaced and listened to the humans talk.

“Well, whatever it is, he can get his ass out here any time now,” one of the guys said.

Minos couldn’t follow the conversation, but he enjoyed listening. The humans were so angry and pushy.

A fourth man ventured out to the deck. The other humans were dressed for night swimming and lounging on the boat, but this guy seemed out of place. He wore glasses and kept his inky black hair cut short. Instead of being dressed like the other men in shorts, he wore a button-down shirt and slacks.

Minos stared at him. He liked the way this man looked. He longed to touch him. A faint tune played in his ears. Was it music from the radio? He wasn’t sure.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

New Audiobook: Moonlight Guardian (Ashton Grove Werewolves) by Jessica Coulter Smith #paranormalromance #Audible @kitcatjms

Narrated by Holly Holt
Duration: 4 hours 57 minutes

Michael Andrews is the last of his brothers to find his mate. He’s played it tough, trying to convince his family that a mate is the last thing he wants, that he enjoys having a different woman every week. In reality, he’s afraid. He wants to find his mate and thinks he may already have, but what if he won’t be a good husband? Maybe, he just isn’t made to love someone. 

Chloe Stevens is on her last leg. She found a guy she thought was great, only to end up pregnant and have the guy vanish into thin air. Then, she lost her job and consequently, her car. Now, she’s facing eviction. Five months pregnant, no job, no car, and now, no home have forced Chloe to do the one thing she swore she wouldn’t: contact the father of her baby. She may have just been a fling to Michael, but their few days together had meant more to her.

When a pregnant Chloe shows up looking for Michael, he’s stunned to find out that he’s going to be a father. It appears that fate is determined to put the woman in his path. But is Michael willing to fight for Chloe when another werewolf decides to claim her?

Get it at Audible

Stop by Audible to listen to a sample!

New Release: Biological Instinct by M.A. Freeman #paranormalromance #shifters @writingmaf

Melanie: The plan is simple. Go on vacation and finally relax after five solid years of hard work. How was she supposed to know her well-meaning friends would hijack said vacation to set her up with a drool-worthy photographer — or that their setup would lead to a whole host of other problems like kidnapping, illegal experimentation, and weirdest of all, psychic abilities? Through it all is Liam, a written-off experiment, and their overwhelming connection.

Liam: Nothing is ever simple when it comes to Liam and the entity that lives inside him. All he knows is the entity is pushing for him to get to know Melanie. Their connection is undeniable, and it’s of interest to the ones who created him in a lab, as well. Liam’s one of the few of their experiments that worked, and the only one to form a bond outside of their scientific creations.

Warning: This book references memories of childhood abuse that may be triggers for some readers.

Get it at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 M.A. Freeman

“I still don’t understand your choice of vacation, Mel. You live at the beach. Granted not on the beach, but close enough. Why’re you going to some random tropical island again?”

Melanie rolled her eyes at the angst-ridden demand as she continued to sort through the freshly washed clothes piled on her bed. She should have known better than to wait until the last minute, but making sure her office could function while she was away had tied up more of her time than expected. The whole situation with Patton Photography was just unfortunate.

“Are you ignoring me?” A ball of socks flew through the air and hit Melanie in the head. “I’m making a valid point about your vacation locale!”

She turned to face her best friend, Lorelei Sapelo, and smirked. “Yes, I am. The beach here and the beach on an island are two different beasts. Besides, I’m more excited about the jungle than the ocean.”

Lorelei sighed as she plopped down on the clothes-covered bed. “You’re usually more organized than this. Why’re you packing so late? Where’s the crazy OCDness I had to deal with all through college?”

Yanking on the sleeve of a T-shirt until Lorelei shifted her fat butt, Melanie pulled out the extra large tee and began to roll it into a tube. “There’s been a lot going on at work I wanted to handle myself. Besides, I don’t want all the hard work I’ve put into getting the editorial staff in shape to implode while I’m gone.”

“I know what you mean.” Lorelei shoved more clothes closer to Melanie.

“One day…” She held up her index finger for emphasis. “… is all it takes for all your hard work to just poof out of existence.”

“At least I have Rose to handle anything serious while I’m away. Your one-man show at your job is just asking for a headache. All those dusty tomes. My allergies would make me pay in so many ways, all of them horrible. Are you going to help me pack or just watch? I can’t be late to the airport in the morning.”

“You’re not going to be late. I’ll have you there in plenty of time.” Lorelei bounced off the bed and pawed through Melanie’s neatly organized closet. “Are you not taking anything but casual clothes? What if you meet a hot guy and you’re wearing grandma shorts?”

“Those are Bermuda shorts, and I’m taking a few maxi dresses and skirts as well, so I’ll try to meet this ‘hot guy’ while I’m wearing one of those.”

Lorelei sniffed, but she stopped messing up her closet. “There’s no need for that snippy tone, Melanie! I’m trying to be a true friend and help you not die an old cat lady.”

Melanie burst out laughing. “You know, I’m thinking of getting a cat when I return. It would be nice to come home to someone even if it is only an animal.”

“I rest my case, budding cat lady. Please don’t become a stereotype because I’ll never forgive you, knowing I’ll probably share the same fate.”

Bras, underwear, and a variety of mix and match bathing suits were added to the suitcase. “You’re not a cat person, so I doubt that will happen to you, Lori.” Melanie glanced around and frowned. “Would you check the bathroom for my toiletry case while I figure out where to put my shoes?”

Lorelei wandered into the bathroom, her voice slightly muffled. “Your less-than-concerned attitude concerns me. Oh my God, you met a guy, didn’t you?!” She returned, clutching the toiletry case. “Who is he? Do I know him? How hot is he? He’s not an idiot or a serial killer, is he?” She paused for breath before shaking her head. “No, you wouldn’t tolerate a moron, no matter how pretty, and a serial killer would already be taken care of.”

“This tendency you have to jump to weird conclusions will get you in serious trouble one day.” Melanie neatly situated her toiletry case in the space she had saved before adding a few other miscellaneous items: outlet adapters, copies of all her travel documents, and backup chargers for her cell phone and tablet. “And I haven’t met anyone. It was at work.”

“Ooooh, you’re lying. Tell me about Mr. Work?”

Knowing nothing would budge Lorelei when she got stubborn, Melanie went into the living room and grabbed her tablet off the coffee table. A few taps and the image of a lush jungle came into view. That was what she showed Lorelei.

Her eyes examined the picture for a moment and widened when she found the hidden jaguar perched in the trees. The incredible, close jaguar that stared from the image with boneless curiosity.

“How did he take this without getting eaten?”

Melanie reached over and tapped the image again to get the byline information to come up. “I’d like to know that, too, because you and I both know there was no zoom involved, and the camera wasn’t perched in the tree. However, Mr. Patton has been out of the country for months, and when he is stateside, he’s basically a recluse.”

Lorelei read the short byline information before handing the tablet back to Melanie. “So, spill. What sort of contact have you had? And where’s a picture?”

A few more taps on the tablet and Melanie answered, “Like I said, it’s been for work. We’ve been communicating through email about an issue with some of the photographs. Nothing personal has been involved, so you can get that gleam out of your eyes. I would like to meet him because there’s something about his photos, and I’m curious about the process he uses to achieve what he does.” She turned the tablet back to Lorelei. “This is the only picture he has for his bio.”

They both looked at the candid photo of a tall, well-muscled man wearing khaki cargo pants, a khaki bush shirt, and a plain baseball cap. His features were shadowed, but they could make out a generous amount of scruff on his face and the displeased line of his mouth, not much else.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

M. A. Freeman lives near Wilmington, NC and never makes it to the beach. Any free time is consumed with books, either reading or writing. An avid traveller and self proclaimed geek, trips abroad and to cons such as DragonCon in Atlanta are always on the agenda. Currently working full time in healthcare and attending school to obtain a Master of Library and Information Science degree to compliment the Bachelor’s of Arts in English and Creative Writing.

New Release: Claiming Chloe by Anne Kane #shifters #paranormalromance @AnneKane @changelingpress

Chloe: Young, passionate, and independent, Chloe’s just bought a coffee shop and has plans to make it everyone’s favorite place in town. While away from home learning how to make the best ever pastries for her new venture, she hooks up with a hot stranger for her first sensual experience. She doesn’t expect to ever see him again, certainly not in her new coffee shop.

Damon: He’s ex-military. Tough. Protecting others is his mission in life. He long ago gave up expecting to find a bond-mate. When he agrees to watch over his Navy SEAL buddy’s little sister, he doesn’t expect her to turn his world upside down. He’s too old for such a vibrant young woman, but their mate-bond is hard to ignore, even if he wanted to.

Get it at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Anne Kane

Damon slunk toward his prey. Silently. Head down. Eyes locked on the target. There would be no mistakes. This sorry excuse for a human would not live to see one more sunrise. The child cowering in the makeshift cage in the hidden room in the basement of the vile pervert’s home, however, would have a chance to grow up and forget about the nightmare of this night. The police had already been tipped off.

The man’s head jerked up, and he looked around wildly. “Hello? Is someone out there?”

Now was the most difficult part. It was so tempting to play with the target, to watch his fear turn to terror as he realized he’d gone from predator to prey. To play with him, like a cat with a mouse. To make sure he suffered every bit as much as his victims had.

But justice needed to be swift, and impartial.

Emotionless.

That was the hardest part of what he did.

He was close now, almost close enough. He moved forward, covering more ground before bunching his feet beneath him. The prey turned to face him.

He launched himself, surging up and forward at the same time. His teeth found their mark, ripping through the soft skin of neck and severing the carotid artery. Bright crimson blood sprayed from the wound as the man went down, gurgling in horror. He clawed weakly at the gaping laceration in his throat, his life force already deserting him.

Why? The man mouthed the word silently, brows drawn into a confused frown as his body hit the ground. Then his eyes glazed over, and his body went limp.

The wolf shook his head, sitting back on his haunches as he watched the life drain out of this miserable excuse for a human.

Justice had been served. No other child would suffer from this man’s depravity.

Once he was sure the man was dead, Damon turned and loped back toward the stream he’d passed on the way up here. He needed to wash the blood from his fur, to remove all traces of what had transpired here. There was no need to dispose of the body. This far up in the bush, nature’s scavengers would take care of that, and if the remains were ever found there would be no way to trace the killing back to one lone wolf with an overriding sense of justice.

The water was cold. He plunged into its chilly depths, ducking his head repeatedly under the fast-moving water. When it finally ran clear, all traces of blood gone, he swam to the far shore and pulled himself up onto the bank. Shaking the excess water from his fur, he turned toward the trail that led back to where he’d parked his vehicle.

* * *

Chloe held her running shoes in one hand as she slowly turned the door handle, trying to make as little noise as possible. It would not do to wake her roommate at this time of the night. Sometimes being a werewolf sucked, especially if you had to sneak out in the middle of the night to go for a run.

Slipping into the hallway, she carefully closed the dorm room door behind her and headed toward the stairwell. Of course, there was an elevator, but she didn’t want to wake up half this floor with its arthritic squeals and groans. She was fairly sure the thing had been installed sometime before her grandparents met each other.

The stairs made more sense anyway since she planned to exit via the window on the second-floor landing. Being a werewolf had its upsides, one of which was the ability to jump from a second story window without risk of injury. Avoiding anyone who might be lurking in the foyer was a bonus.

The stairwell was deserted, which wasn’t much of a surprise. Chloe sat down on the top step and put her shoes on. It was the middle of the night and even if it weren’t, most people preferred to use the elevator. She descended to the second-floor landing and unlatched the window. She pushed it open and swung herself up and through the opening in one graceful move.

At least, she pictured it as graceful. Her landing on the grass below, not quite so good. Her left foot slipped on a candy bar wrapper someone had carelessly tossed on the ground and she ended up sprawled out with her feet in the air. Definitely not graceful, but at least no one was watching. She’d checked to make sure of that. The surveillance camera on the wall was a fake, put there in a prominent position to scare off petty thieves and overly amorous frat boys.

Getting to her feet, she brushed off her pants and headed out to the edge of town to find a likely hiding place. Shifting would be easy tonight. She’d put it off just a little longer than usual, and she could feel the itch under her skin, the wolf fighting to get out.

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.