Release Blitz: Thicker Than Water by Becca Seymour #urbanfantasy #LGBTQ

Title: Thicker Than Water

Author: Becca Seymour

Publisher: Rainbow Tree Publishing

Release Date: March 14th 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 65000

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, urban fantasy romance, shifter romance

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Outcast operative in the Supernatural Investigation & Crime Bureau (SICB) Callen Blackheath finds himself doing what he does best: defying orders and giving his boss a headache in the thick of an operation he shouldn’t be in. And there’s no way he’s walking away, not when the investigation has become deadly personal.

Needing to protect the only family member he has left, this wolf shifter will do whatever it takes to stop the blood farms and destroy the dangerous drugs the vampires will kill for. But he doesn’t expect Liam “Thatch” Thatcher, the head of a special task force team, to receive a bite that pulls him into the centre of Callen’s world.

Bonded by memories and blood, together they navigate the operation that has wider reaches than they could ever imagine. And when it comes to matters of the heart, Callen knows in order to win, he needs to risk it all.

Excerpt

Heat rippled over my skin. The singed scent of hair clogged my ability to track the way out, leaving me momentarily cursing my stubbornness for going this alone. My boss would never let me live it down if I got myself charred to a crisp or killed. At least the latter would mean I wouldn’t have to listen to his pompous spiel about following protocol. The dick had it out for me. He had since I’d joined this team three years ago, and despite my success rate on missions, he hadn’t taken kindly to the son of the Blackheath alpha joining the Supernatural Investigation & Crime Bureau.

Creaking beams followed by the crash of timber had me blinking hard against the blackening smoke. There had to be a way out. While Brent, my division leader, thought I was foolhardy—or perhaps simply a fool—I had studied the schematics of the lab prior to entering. What I hadn’t planned for was Jonas Cartwright to set the damn thing on fire with me in it.

Focussed on pushing my senses beyond the sound of the licking fire and groaning foundations, I closed my eyes, hoping for a ripple, something, anything that would get me out of this situation. Two beats, three, four… but nothing. I could either stay planted, hoping a miracle would happen, or I could act. Neither seemed like a smart move but staying put and being roasted was not an option. The raw heat travelling up my arms, removing my hairs along the way, cried out for my retreat.

Action it was.

In barely a split second, my eyes shifted. While the heightened sight wouldn’t help with the smoke, the electricity had been tripped by the fire, and I needed all the help I could get.

I cursed up a storm in my head as I raced the way I’d come. With a leap over a toppled cabinet, a swerve away from the licks of fire trailing along workstation dividers, I swore the whole time I would find Cartwright and put him to ground once and for all. The way ahead was blocked, and no barrelling through would solve that. I screeched to a stop. “Shit.” I looked left and right, thinking hard about the drawings I’d glanced at ten seconds before entering the lab. Screw Brent and his demands for being well-prepared. I had no doubt my name, Callen, was already a regular curse from him. This would simply give him more ammunition. It was better than him seething my surname, Blackheath, I supposed, but still, ten seconds of my eyes roaming over the layout was as good as studying in my world.

Before I could figure out my next move, a small scrape of metal to my left had me turning in that direction. I seriously hoped I wasn’t racing towards more flames, but the sound was distinctive, controlled.

On reaching a hallway I didn’t recognise, I stumbled. “What the hell?” At the end of the darkened hallway was a glass door. While smoke spiralled through the space, it wasn’t as black, the fire not yet having reached the area. I crouched low to avoid the white smoke, my eyes focussed on the hand scratching against the glass door. Blood smeared with every gentle swipe, the movement slowing down.

No one was supposed to be here. Ignoring the fact that Cartwright had blown my half-arsed recon out of the window and taken me by surprise, there seriously shouldn’t have been anyone else on site. An unfamiliar edge of panic flared to life in my chest. This was not good.

I charged towards the glass, stopping short of barrelling into it to try the handle. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d broken down a door unnecessarily. I didn’t want to crash through a glass door unless I had to. While I healed quickly, shards of glass cutting through my skin still hurt something fierce.

Testing the handle with one hand, I hit the glass lower down, trying to get the attention of the person attempting to get out. Their bloody hand peeking out a white lab coat twitched at the loud thud. “Shit,” I grumbled. The door was locked. “Hey.” I beat against the glass panel harder. It was partially misted for privacy, and visibility was unclear. Unable to tell who was on the other side or whether the smoke had breached the room from another direction, for once, I considered my options.

“Hey.” I tried again, my hand smacking the glass harder, not yet intending to break through. “Can you hear me?” Steadying my breath took concentration, but I needed to listen carefully.

“Code.” The voice was gravelly. “P-Panel.”

I searched quickly and found a panel off to my right. “I need the code.” Each word came out calm and clear. Panicking now could possibly get us both killed.

“Five.” A cough wracked through him, loud and sounding painful. I squinted, wondering what the hell this guy had been through. “Two. Seven. Seven. Four. Nine.”

I hit the numbers as he said them.

“Hash,” he finished, and the door clicked, swinging open when the guy fell against it. He landed on the floor.

Unconscious at my feet, the man was sprawled on his front. I tugged him to the side. With no idea where we were, I couldn’t simply throw the guy over my shoulder and start charging around, hitting dead ends and burning doors wherever we went. Decision made, I cast a quick glance at the man. Wet blood covered his rich black skin, but his moving chest indicated he was breathing. Barely. Christ, I hoped he didn’t die on me. After a final glance, I rushed into the unlocked room. Just because it had been sealed from the inside didn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to get through another exit.

A door on the opposite side of the room was my target. I headed straight there, spotting vials and another room off to my right. Before I reached the exit, the scent hit me. Blood, and it wasn’t from the unconscious lab tech in the hallway. I took a tentative step in the direction the scent came from, bile already churning in my gut.

No. It couldn’t be.

Another step forward, and I held my breath, not wanting to believe it could be true.

Wide-eyed, I gasped for breath, then regretted the action immediately. Metallic, familiar, and dead. The combination of the three threatened to buckle my knees. Unable to look away, I stared hard, hating every second. But I had to do this. Flesh, torn muscle, mutilated claws; the image seared itself into my mind. Once there, a shockwave of pain ripped through me.

No.

This time I let my knees go and landed on the floor, my knee finding the blood the same shade of my own. It was her. Hazel. My baby sister.

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Meet the Author

Becca Seymour lives and breathes all things book related. Usually with at least three books being read and two WiPs being written at the same time, life is merrily hectic. She tends to do nothing by halves so happily seeks the craziness and busyness life offers.

Living on her small property in Queensland with her human family as well as her animal family of cows, chooks, and dogs, Becca appreciates the beauty of the world around her and is a believer that love truly is love.

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Slave School Dropout (All Wrapped Up) by Dakota Cassidy #paranormalromance

Slave School Dropout (All Wrapped Up Multi-Author 2)

Cover Art by Angela Knight

 

Nyla is a cat. So is Lucas. Nyla is an Egyptian descendant of Bast. Lucas isn’t.

In fact, he’s so far off the scale of high falutin’ lineages, he’s precariously tipped them. That’s because he’s a tomcat.

Nyla and Lucas have been friends for over a year since they met at a shifters’ meet and greet. Until one day, Nyla smells what Lucas has smelled all along. Her lifemate.

What does any good pair of lifemates do when they have to seal the deal? A little bump and grind, but who knew the bump and grind meant floggers and spankings and a host of kinky stuff Nyla had no clue Lucas liked.

Nyla is vanilla. Lucas is not. Lucas is a Dominant who enjoys just a smidge of rocky road with his bedroom pleasures.

Nyla never considered herself submissive. No one is the boss of her. However, these lifemates are about to embark on a journey that will take them both to places they’d never considered.

Oh, and it never hurts to mention that Nyla’s family is a snobbish, upper crust bunch of shifters who will probably want nothing more than to see to it that Lucas and Nyla’s newly acquired lifemate status is revoked by the lifemate council.

It’s High Society meets the ASPCA with a decided twist…

Publisher’s note: This title is available in print. Visit our Books in Print page for more information.

 

Get it at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Dakota Cassidy

“I’m so — so…” Well, she didn’t know what she was. She’d been on a mission to find the scent that made her nose feel like it’d exploded off her face and she was so enamored with the “scent’s” ass she tripped on a stupid toy mouse and fell into him. As opposed to sauntering up to him like she was all va-va-voom or something.

That was how she’d planned it in her mind, anyway. She would follow the smell of this Utopia in a pair of faded jeans and saunter up to him like she was the Queen of Sheba.

Sometimes the road to hell and all that rigmarole…

So instead of sashaying like a supermodel on a runway, Nyla Jane Selim fell into yon hottie with not an ounce of sashay and a whole lot of Pee Wee Herman.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to — I think I tripped –” Her nose was overwhelmed with the masculine scent of him. It made her heart skip and do a running vault over the parallel bars.

Strong arms held her for the briefest of moments before helping her to regain her footing and a deep voice, raspy and reassuring, interrupted her apology. “Tripped on a mouse,” he finished her sentence. “Somebody needs to clean this place up.”

Ohhhhhh, oooh, oh. A shiver of delight rippled along Nyla’s spine and she arched into him, keeping her palms on his muscled forearms for a moment more. What a set of lungs… Nyla didn’t know if she should silently curse or thank Amos personally for not cleaning up the kitty condo aisle. “It’s been a bit crazy here and we’re understaffed,” she offered as she squinted, studying his face, angular and rugged.

Her eyebrows rose. No fucking way! Lucas? How could this be? Lucas never smelled like this before. Nyla struggled to find her glasses in the white coat she wore at the pet store. Slipping them on, she peered into her friend’s face as if she were seeing it for the first time, not the like hundredth in a year.

He held a studded collar in his hand, rhinestones and black leather. It twinkled under the bright fluorescent lights of the store. His thumb ran over the studs, giving Nyla another carnal thought that had absolutely nothing to do with a collar and everything to do with slappin’ this face jock down on the floor and slamming him one for Old Glory. Oh, my God! Had she really just thought that?

“I see that,” Lucas commented, his tone rather blasé as he looked over the top of her head and gave a scathing scan of the store overall. “You talk about this place all the time. I thought I’d come check it out. You definitely could use one or two of those plastic Tupperware bins,” he joked.

Nyla stuck her tongue out at him playfully. Okay, so it wasn’t the most efficiently run place, but it had its advantages and a great volunteer program for adopting a pet, which Nyla ran. “Lucas, what the hell are you doing here? You need help with something in particular?”

His smile was cocky and glib, and his dark green eyes hinted that Nyla, for all of her ineptitude, couldn’t possibly help him. “No. No. I don’t need help at all, Nyla. I just thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to catch a movie. You know that thing we do every Friday night? Me relegated to your fun date pile and all?”

At this particular nanosecond, despite the sharp stab of her nipples poking at her bra like a Dewalt drill bit, Nyla was tweaked. What the hell was going on? They’d been on two dates before she’d determined that they should just be friends. She and Lucas were so alike, ruining it with sex was something Nyla wasn’t willing to do. Lucas was the only person in the world who understood her right down to her Prada heels, and she wasn’t going to risk becoming his squeeze so he could dump her somewhere down the road. They were friends for life — period.

And so now what? He was all of a sudden hot? She and Lucas had shared more than a dozen movies and he’d never smelled like this before. Fuck him for smelling better than tuna. Gathering her best disinterested attitude around her knees, Nyla gave him a narrowed glance before dismissing her moment of insanity and said, “Yeah, let’s do a movie.” While I’m at it, could I do you too?

Oh! Where had that come from?

“Nyla? You okay?” Lucas looked down at her from what seemed like way far up there all of a sudden… was he always this tall? Tall and luscious to boot?

“Yeah, I’m great. You?”

“I’m fine. So, the movie? Wanna go?”

Nyla’s nose twitched again. Oh, my hell, he smelled soooo good. Nyla involuntarily sniffed his shoulder. “Are you wearing new cologne?”

“That’s all me, baby. Nothing new,” he teased. “You were the one who didn’t want to sample it, remember?”

Oh, she remembered all right. As clearly as she now smelled him in a whole different way. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. We’re friends and I won’t risk having to dump your ass and take all of your toilet paper with me when I do, just so we can have sex. I can have that with anyone, but nobody does a good romantic comedy like you.”

Lucas brushed a kiss over her suddenly heated forehead. “I know, I know. I’m the sexless friend.” As he stood closer to her, Nyla fought the urge to lean into his hard frame and the bonfire that was him.

Lucas stiffened and backed away. “So, a movie? Popcorn, soda and your favorite ‘no sex this lifetime’ buddy — friend.”

Nyla cleared her throat. Yeah, no sex. She’d said that a dozen times or so too… what had she been thinking? Nyla put a hand on Lucas’ chest. A chest that now, all of a sudden, out of the clear blue, felt… good.

With that, Nyla turned on her heel and stalked off toward the back room where she fully intended to cleanse her nostrils with sandpaper.

 

About Dakota Cassidy

USA Today Bestselling author Dakota Cassidy lives for a good laugh in life and in her writing. In fact, she almost loves a good giggle as much as she loves hair products and that’s saying something.

Her goals in life are simple, (like really simple): banish the color yellow forever, create world peace via hot rollers and Aqua Net; and finally, nab every tiara in the land by competing in the Miss USA, Miss Universe, and Miss World pageants, then sweeping them in a stunning trifecta of much duct tape and Vaseline usage, all in just under one week. Oh, and write really fun books!

Dakota lives in Oregon with her dogs and has a husband who puts the heroes in her books to shame.

Dakota at Changeling Press| Website

 

 

Amelia and Orion (Wild Witches of Beaver Bay) by Kate Hill #urbanfantasy

Amelia and Orion (Wild Witches of Beaver Bay 4)

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

 

Demon. Vampire. Human. Orion is all three. From the moment he met Amelia Wild, his heart has belonged to her, but a hybrid like him doesn’t have the luxury of falling in love.

Amelia Wild sometimes regrets not sharing her family’s magical gifts, but she has one of her own — a genius level IQ that she uses to uncover scientific ways to fight supernatural creatures. For years she has loved her business partner, Orion, but he has made it clear they will never be romantically involved.

When Orion’s emotional restraint becomes too much, Amelia heads to her family’s ancestral land to get in touch with her magical roots. Lost without her, Orion follows Amelia to the Wild family cabin. Will this irritable half-demon and a brilliant witch finally surrender to the powerful attraction between them?

 

Get it at Changeling Press

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Kate Hill

Orion’s booted feet rhythmically thumped the forest ground. The scent of damp earth filled his every breath. Misty wind snapped against his face. His inhumanly sharp senses heightened during the chase. The others — at least the ones who were still in the game — closed in. He smelled and heard them.

He stopped to climb a nearby tree and pulled himself onto a thick branch where he crouched, watching, his heart pounding. It didn’t take long for his harsh breathing to slow to almost normal — the result of good conditioning and superior genetics.

He wouldn’t be safe here forever. They were near.

He had taken down most of the demon hunters chasing him, but two new recruits had joined their hunt today and they weren’t experienced, but distressingly talented.

Orion tensed and shifted his position just before a rock nearly struck his head.

Orion shifted his gaze to Joel Connor — the newest member of the “family.” Like Orion, he was around average height, whipcord lean, and an accomplished athlete — however, today’s competition was for higher stakes. No prize or title. Just survival.

Orion smirked. “You’re a talented monkey, but you missed.”

“First, that was just to wake you up. Second, if I’m the monkey, then why are you the one sitting in a tree?”

Orion chuckled. “You’re amusing, Joel.”

And crafty. If Joel wished, he could climb after Orion in a blink, but he wasn’t working alone.

Inhaling a bit deeper, Orion grinned. Not that he needed to catch Jeff’s scent to know he was coming. Jeff was rather heavy-handed with everything he did. Stalking the woods in silence wasn’t a skill he’d mastered yet, even with the help of his feline spirit twin. Of course a saber tooth cat hadn’t been the smoothest predator in its day, but powerful, as Orion’s close friend, Starr, had reminded him when they’d prepared for the hunt.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you,” Starr said.

“I know. It’s always good competition, but Jeff is one of the strongest spirit twins the family has seen in years. If he catches me, he’ll knock me into tomorrow.”

Starr met his gaze. By now, neither mentioned the power Orion repressed. If he used it, their battle game would be to the death. The hunters would have no other choice. Without that boost, however, the hunters could do him serious harm. These games were to keep each other sharp — injuries were normal, but there was a line they couldn’t cross.

“Remember, Jeff is strong, smart, and he’s used to working with a team. That’s a great combo for us and bad news for a target.”

“Me.”

“This time.” Starr smiled and amiably punched Orion’s shoulder.

He and Starr had known each other since they were fifteen. Starr was like a brother, and these demon hunters the closest thing to a real family Orion had ever known. Except for —

“Ah. He approaches.” Orion snapped back to the moment. He tightened his grip on his chain whip — a formidable weapon when wielded properly, and Orion was an expert.

Joel didn’t speak, but jabbed his palm toward Orion. An unseen force struck him in the chest and he nearly fell out of the tree.

When had Joel developed this particular power? Though inexperienced, the witch warrior was full of surprises.

Joel must have hit him harder than he thought because the tree seemed to shake.

Oh. Because Jeff had leapt onto it and hauled his six-foot-three-inch half human, half saber tooth cat body toward Orion’s branch.

Great.

Orion dropped lightly to the ground, where Joel attacked. For several seconds they traded kicks and strikes before Jeff leaped out of the tree, no doubt aiming for Orion, but landing on Joel instead.

Orion backed away, smirking again. “Such precision, Jeff. Thank you for your assistance.”

Growling, Jeff sprang at Orion just as Starr shouted, “Time!”

Jeff knocked Orion flat on his back. Pain jabbed behind Orion’s left ear. Jeff loomed above Orion. His dark eyes blazed and his giant fangs hovered inches from Orion’s face.

They glared at each other, and a twinge of apprehension shot through Orion. He didn’t want to use his full demonic powers on any member of the family, but he didn’t know Jeff well yet, and he would do whatever necessary to defend himself.

Then Jeff rose to his feet, dragging Orion with him.

Jeff’s fangs shrank and the shaggy coat covering him from head to toe receded, leaving him with a relatively human appearance. “I got a little carried away.”

“Slightly. For a moment I thought you might try to eat me.”

Jeff snorted. “Fuck no.”

Laughing, Starr said, “Yeah, Orion, everyone knows you’re a bitter man.”

Orion narrowed his eyes at Starr.

“I don’t know about you all, but that was a great workout,” said Amber, Starr’s mom. The tall redhead strode toward them.

Despite her rough edges, Orion liked her. For over fifteen years, Amber had been more of a mother to him than his own ever had. Once Starr had brought him home, she had given Orion the same tough love as every other member of the family until he finally believed he was part of them after all.

“Yeah, Amber, that was something,” Jeff admitted. “It’s amazing that we can practice on an actual demon without the danger.”

“Hmm.” Orion leveled his gaze at Jeff. “Maybe I’m not doing it right, then.”

“Trust me, there’s plenty of danger, and speaking of that, is anyone besides Orion hurt?” Amber asked.

“I’m fine,” Orion said.

“No, man, you’re bleeding.” Starr motioned behind Orion’s ear.

Orion absently swiped at moisture trickling down his neck and glanced at his hand to see it streaked with blood. He’d thought it was just sweat. “A scratch.”

“Sorry about that,” Jeff said. “Must have been when I knocked you down.”

Orion waved off his apology. “It’s how the game is played. Enemies don’t show mercy.”

“We’re not enemies.” Joel stared at him. No doubt he was contemplating whether it was true. Like any new family member, once they learned Orion’s heritage, they automatically mistrusted him. Being a three-way hybrid made him an object of suspicion.

“I get it,” Jeff said. “We need to be hard on each other because the enemy will be worse.”

 

About Kate Hill

(Also writing as Saloni Quinby)

Always a fan of romance and the paranormal, I started writing over twenty years ago. My first story was accepted for publication in 1996. Since then I’ve written over one hundred short stories, novellas and novels. I love to blend genres. I also love horror and a happily ever after, so if you’re looking for romance with witches, aliens, vampires, angels, demons, shapeshifters and more, there’s a good chance you’ll find something to your taste here.

When I’m not writing, I enjoy reading, watching horror and action movies, working out and spending time with my family and pets.  I love hearing from readers, so feel free to leave a comment at my blog or connect with me on Twitter.

Kate at Changeling Press |Website |Twitter

 

 

 

Teaser Tuesday: Death in Her Eyes by Erin Bedford #urbanfantasy #preorder

Title: Death In Her Eyes
Series: Children of the Fallen Book 1
Author: Erin Bedford
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Release Date: March 31, 2020
Cover Design: Gene Mollica Studios

 

Ellie Richmond has never been a particularly happy person. When her first vision of death happened at the age of four it was hard not to be jaded.

 

After Ellie’s mom dies and her out of the picture dad shows up at her funeral claiming she’s in grave danger, things are going to go to a whole other level of weird. Even for for someone with Ellie’s abilities.
Thrust into the world of angels and demons, Ellie will find herself in the midst the war to end all other wars and she’s the meat the dogs are fighting over.
No one could have ever seen this coming, not even Ellie.

 

 

 

Erin Bedford is an otaku, recovering coffee addict, and Legend of Zelda fanatic. Her brain is so full of stories that need to be told that she must get them out or explode into a million screaming chibis. Obsessed with fairy tales and bad boys, she hasn’t found a story she can’t twist to match her deviant mind full of innuendos, snarky humor, and dream guys.
On the outside, she’s a work from home mom and bookbinger. One the inside, she’s a thirteen-year-old boy screaming to get out and tell you the pervy joke they found online. As an ex-computer programmer, she dreams of one day combining her love for writing and college credits to make the ultimate video game!
Until then, when she’s not writing, Erin is devouring as many books as possible on her quest to have the biggest book gut of all time. She’s written over thirty books, ranging from paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and even scifi romance.
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The Case of the Deadly Game – Part 1 by Stephanie Burke #darkfantasy #murdermystery @FlashyCat

The Case of the Deadly Game Part 1 (Mai-Fly Mysteries 4)

Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Mai’s Epic Journey is almost to an end, but a rest break in Lightwater, England proves to be more trouble than it’s worth. Now there’s a dead body, a hell hound, a Fire Goblin, and once again Mai is at the center of it all.

When you’re playing a Deadly game, someone always gets hurt.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

Use Discount Code TGIF02-28-2020 for 15% off your entire order!

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Stephanie Burke

“Changeling, are you?”

The woman stared up at Mai, her dark eyes intent as she gripped Mai’s hand hard.

On either side of her desk, the duly appointed and armed guardians of the gate tightened their hands on the handles of their batons made with blessed iron, their badges setting off a faint warning pulse that only those of the Fae blood could feel.

“Human, huh?” Mai returned as the woman’s hand tightened on her wrist, staring into the woman’s eyes, daring her to do or say something.

Mai was not in the mood. After a seven and a half hour nonstop flight from Baltimore to Gatwick in the UK, even traveling first class grated on her nerves.

She had already received confirmation that Ry’s body had arrived in Cardiff and was going directly into the hands of his clan for safekeeping though her Court could not pass back into Fae lands without her, as a new Queen, being there as an escort. Even in death, he was still a member of another Queen’s Court and by Fae law, he couldn’t even travel into the grieving hands of his mother unless Mai was there to allow it. But in order to get there, Mai had to first obtain permission from the British authorities, those who guarded the gate into Fae, and she had to clear this fucking customs gate.

At least his body didn’t have to go through the comprehensive background and magical checks at the gates of Gatwick Airport with what could be a deranged human whose name was… Mai paused in her musings to stare at the nametag of the once cheery and bubbly… Karen. Her whole attitude had changed when it came to Mai, compared to everyone who had come before.

“First time?” The woman was sitting behind a tall desk that stretched across the front length of the exit gate. It was the last obstacle blocking a barred exit that led to the outside. Mai had looked around at the warded area, saw a magic meter nearly as tall as she was off in the corner, what had to be a dozen of those security guys standing around and looking menacing, the tall cold iron bars that blocked the only door to the outside, and then back to the cheery smiling woman who had chirped at all the others until her. The shock of it all had been almost enough to leave her speechless.

“Well, yeah,” Mai had shaken herself mentally and got her mind back on business, ignoring the insanely dangerous vibes she got from those security agents. “First time here.”

“Papers, please.”

Before Mai could move, Ptris who had been placing a formal looking envelope on the desk, returned the woman’s smile with a blank stare that didn’t affect her aura of happiness at all. It was really too early for that crap and there wasn’t enough coffee in Mai’s body to deal with the fake giddiness that the woman was throwing off, or at least not deal with it with anything approaching grace.

“Oh, how exciting!” The woman had all but bounced in her seat. “A new court is forming, and from The Americas no less. You don’t see that every day.”

When silence was her only answer, the woman had just giggled to herself and began to go through the paperwork. It was their passports, their travel visas, their itinerary, and the paperwork declaring who and what they were.

“Entranced human?” she asked, looking up at Austin to match his photo to his passport and he proudly waved his hand. “You don’t see that every day. You don’t have a birth certificate…”

“I was born before the department of vital statistics was created.” He chuckled. “But my papers should have my bloodwork, my clan name and affiliation as well as my date of birth and time of the willing entrancement…”

“I see,” she mused, staring at Austin to the point where Lu-Lu reached out and grabbed his hand, glaring at the woman. “Sorry, love.” Karen shook her head and turned back to the papers spread out on her desk. “I’ve never come across a human so old, though to be fair, most entrancements stopped long before the last war.”

Austin nodded in understanding. “I am unique in that regard.”

“Scotsman, are you?” she asked and he grinned. “Welcome home, then.”

She turned to Ptris, blinked twice and just stamped his papers. No one fucked with Ptris.

She stamped Lu-Lu’s well-worn paperwork — the elf traveled a lot — and then turned her gaze to Mai.

Her head tilted to the side as she stared at her and of course Mai stared back. After a few moments of this standoff, Mai realized they were in a stalemate.

About Stephanie Burke

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

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

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

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

Blog | Stephanie at Changeling Press | Facebook

 

 

Raven, Red by Connie Suttle #UrbanFantasy #shifters

Cormac Flynn, a raven shapeshifter, is ancient, Celtic, and cursed.

Arianne Leone, a mountain lion shapeshifter, owns an art gallery in Deep Ellum, a popular tourist attraction and haven for musicians for decades.

Together, they are charged with guarding the one who bears the Hermit’s Stone, an ancient artifact that has held worlds together—and kept them separate—for eons.

Possession of the stone falls to Ari’s friend and art student, nineteen-year-old Nico Garcia. When Nico’s parents are killed in an attempt to destroy him, Ari and Mac must set aside their differences and work together, protecting Nico at all costs…

 

About the Book

Raven, Red
by Connie Suttle

Series
Lion and Raven

Genre
Adult
Urban Fantasy

Publisher
Independent

Publication Date
October 26, 2019

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RAVEN, RED EXCERPT

A Lion and Raven Novel

© 2019 Connie Suttle

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

September

Costa de la Muerte

Northern Spain

 

Fierce winds screamed across the sand, blowing spray off the Atlantic and drenching anyone foolish enough to tread the beaches during such a storm.

Locals blamed the winds for nightmares and other unnatural occurrences, while oscillating stones in the area rocked and rumbled, giving life to ancient tales.

Had anyone from the nearby village of Mordomo ventured out, perhaps they would recall their encounter with the et Inpaenitens, thinking they’d met the Santa Compaña instead.

Perhaps not.

This night, these spirits were especially agitated.

It is gone.

Those words passed silently from one to another, as they found themselves able to break formation.

Then our chance to destroy it has come, whispered throughout the company.

First, we must find it. Belhar, eldest, strongest, and the one who’d enthralled his companions, insisted. No matter where it travels. It holds us only while it is here.

Might we travel then, to find it?

Only the strongest among us, Belhar admonished. I will choose who may go, and who must stay. Remember, your duty is to open the gate, should the opportunity arise.

The winds whipped into a higher-pitched scream as the et Inpaenitens resolved to act accordingly and free themselves forever.

Dispersing completely for the first time in centuries, they left no footprints behind for the winds to erase.

May, the Following Year

Deep Ellum

Dallas, Texas

Arianne Leone looked up from her painting when the bell over her art gallery door jangled, announcing a visitor. She’d bent low to paint the red and yellow colors of the Indian Blanket wildflowers found in Palo Duro Canyon.

Paintings of the canyon were some of her best sellers, so she straightened her spine and stepped back to survey her work. The focus of the painting was a well-known rock formation, called the Lighthouse.

“Ari, it’s me,” Nico Garcia called from the front of the gallery.

“I’m back here,” she replied.

“Oh, that’s really good,” Nico breathed a sigh as he caught sight of her latest work. “I wish my final project was half as good.”

“It was great—you’ll get an A.”

“Thanks for letting me work on it here—that made a lot of difference. Too many distractions at home,” he admitted. “College is harder than I thought.”

“At least the semester’s over—when will your grades be out?”

“Maybe next week,” Nico shrugged. He was worried, Ari could tell.

“You’ll do fine,” she reassured him. “I just know it.”

“The raven came back again yesterday,” Nico said.

“Because you’re feeding him,” Ari teased. “Did you ever figure out what the red patch is under his beak?”

“I still can’t tell, and I can’t really ask him, can I? He does like tamales, though.”

“You working the night shift?” Ari asked.

Nico’s parents owned Blue Taco, the Mexican restaurant across the street from Ari’s gallery. It was a popular restaurant for standard Tex-Mex as well as authentic regional Mexican dishes offered as daily specials.

“Yeah. Gotta go in at six,” Nico answered Ari’s question. “Thought I’d come early and see you, first.”

“Want to use the studio during the summer?”

“Yes.” By the breathless tone of his voice and the way his dark eyes lit up, Ari understood Nico’s true purpose in paying her a visit.

“You’re welcome to use it anytime. I’ll get you a key so you can come and go.”

“All right,” Nico’s enthusiasm spread with his grin.

“I may come to the restaurant for dinner tonight—all this talk of tamales is making me hungry.”

“We can go together—you know Papa will not let you pay.”

“He needs to let me pay,” she said. “He has to cover his bills, just like everybody else.”

“The restaurant is doing really well,” Nico argued. “Besides, you let me paint here.”

“I’m still paying for my dinner. I’m just letting a friend paint in my studio—there are no strings attached. I remember art school, and how much it would have helped me to have an artist’s space to do my work. Instead, I had two roommates who couldn’t stop talking about guys and getting drunk.”

“Mama keeps asking me about a girlfriend. I have girl friends, but those are two separate words for now.”

“I hear that.” Ari and Nico bumped fists. “Want a soda or some water?”

“Water. It’s hot outside.” Nico followed Ari to the small fridge she kept in her workspace. “Something weird happened last night, though. Papa thought it was a burglar outside. The police came, but they didn’t find anything.”

“They may have been scared off. Don’t let your guard down,” Ari warned. “People seem to get crazier during the summer heat.”

“Gonna paint some more after dinner?”

“I think I’ll go home. This is almost finished, and I have a crick in my back from bending down to do the flowers.”

“Is it already sold?”

“Yeah. Somebody in Virginia wants it.”

“Cha-ching,” Nico laughed.

“Hey, that’s rent,” Ari poked his shoulder. “Do not diss the rent.”

Ari found herself flinging her arms around Nico as a deafening explosion sent them flying across her studio. Time slowed as she reflexively covered him as well as she could before their bodies hit the concrete floor.

Across the street, fire and screams erupted; Blue Taco had been reduced to little more than rubble. The bomb that leveled the restaurant had shaken the gallery and blown out its plate glass windows.

Ari came to her senses first, lifting her head—and her weight off Nico. Her back felt as if it were on fire. “Nico?” she whispered desperately. His eyes were closed and his hair was covered in dust and debris that continued to fall around them.

She’d covered the rest of him, so his clothing was relatively clean. “Nico?” Ari stretched out a shaking hand; temporarily deaf, she couldn’t hear his breaths or his heartbeat, and she didn’t trust her eyes to tell her whether Nico was alive. Touch was the only sense she had left.

There—a pulse. Ari found herself wiping tears away. Reaching for her cell phone in a back pocket, Ari groaned in pain. Her back felt as if a thousand needles were stabbing her relentlessly.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” the voice on the other end of her call answered.

“Explosion. Injury. Seven-nine-nine Durrance Street in Deep Ellum.”

“We have several units on the way to that area. Stay on the phone; someone will arrive soon.”

Nico escaped with minor injuries. A paramedic was forced to pick glass and splinters from Ari’s back once the dust settled and first responders arrived.

Everyone inside the restaurant perished.

“He’s nineteen and his parents just died,” Ari hissed at Detective Norm Little, who’d arrived to ask questions. She’d disliked him on sight, and when he asked if Nico were in the country legally, she almost slapped him.

Another detective joined the first; Ari wanted to snarl at him before he opened his mouth. “Norm,” Lance Elliott frowned at Detective Little, “I think you’re needed outside.”

“But,” Little began to argue.

“Out. Side.” Detective Elliott jerked his head toward the open space that used to be a door into Ari’s gallery.

Ari studied Detective Elliott with a critical eye. Forties, a little bit of gray, no paunch, single or divorced, she decided. Elliott didn’t budge when it looked as if Detective Little wanted to argue again. She watched with satisfaction as Little turned and walked stiffly toward the entrance.

Once Little left the scene, Lance visibly relaxed. “Sorry about that,” he apologized to Ari. “I’ll take it from here. I don’t suppose you have a security camera outside?”

“Yeah. I can send you whatever it captured—before things blew up.”

“Can we do that now? How’s the kid?” Lance’s voice had gone soft when he asked about Nico, causing Ari to lift an eyebrow.

Bad cop, good cop, she thought to herself, before leading Lance to the back, where Nico shivered on Ari’s sofa.

Shock, Ari pulled in a weary breath. “Nico, I have a blanket. I’ll get it for you.” Detective Elliott could wait—Nico was more important.

“The back of your shirt is bloody,” Lance Elliott called after her.

“Damn. And I just changed shirts,” she cursed.

Lance hated this part of his job. “I’m sorry, Nico,” he handed Nico’s driver’s license back to him. “But we have to find out who did this. Right now, you’re the best source of information we’ve got.”

“Nothing is different,” Nico stuttered his reply. Ari had draped a blanket over Nico’s shoulders, but the kid was still shivering.

“I have a note here that says your father called Plano PD last night,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

“We thought it was a burglar—Mama heard somebody running beside the house, so Papa called the police. They didn’t find anything. I’m not sure they looked very hard.”

“He told me the same thing earlier—that they had to call the police,” Ari spoke up.

“I’ll send somebody out to check again.” Pulling his phone from a pocket, Lance excused himself and walked toward the gallery door to place a call.

“I’ll call Plano PD,” Captain Belwether told Lance over the phone. “Can’t hurt to check. Now, what’s this beef between you and Norm?”

Lance forced himself not to curse. “The kid just lost both parents,” he growled a reply. “Norm decided to air his racism and asked if the kid was here legally.”

“Of course he did,” Belwether sounded grim. “I’ll expect you to file a report on the incident when you get back to the station.”

“I’m sure Norm already has his complaint written about me overstepping my authority,” Lance grumbled.

“I’ll talk to him when he gets back. We don’t need this blowing up on the news—that we’re this cold-hearted.”

“Except Norm is exactly that.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. He’s close to retirement. He and I will have a talk and he’ll choose his words more wisely next time.”

“Right. I may have camera footage from a security camera across the street. I’ll let you know if there’s anything useful.”

“Body count is at twenty-nine and expected to go higher,” Belwether said.

“Damn. Look, I need to go. I don’t know how long the kid can hold up, and I still have questions to ask.” After ending the call, Lance walked back to the studio behind the gallery. His phone rang again before he reached his destination.

“House in Plano just destroyed,” Belwether barked. “Homes on both sides damaged. We have to get the kid someplace safe. Somebody’s after the whole family.”

“I’ll bring him to the station. We can go from there,” Lance studied Ari and Nico, who were now huddled together on the sofa. Ari’s arms were around Nico, as if she knew something else had gone wrong already.

Ari followed the detective to his car; Nico walked beside her, still wrapped in the blanket she’d given him. At first, Lance intended to take Nico to the police station, but Nico refused to go without Ari, as if she were his only remaining lifeline in a world gone off the rails.

“We’ll get through this, Nico,” she spoke softly to him as Lance opened the back door of his vehicle. Ari stifled a scream when a raven, bearing a small patch of red feathers at his throat, landed on top of the car with a concerned kraw!

“Don’t,” Nico begged as Lance waved an arm to shoo the bird away. “He’s my friend.”

“We can’t take him with us,” Lance began.

“Come. With. Nico,” the bird croaked, sending a shiver through Lance. Ari gasped softly but didn’t say anything.

“He said my name,” Nico turned to Ari, his eyes wide. “He’s my friend,” he turned back to Lance.

“Right. Get in the car. Bird, if you’re coming, get in and don’t make a mess.” Lance only said what he did for Nico’s benefit—no way would that bird get in the car.

Except he did, lifting off the car’s roof and flapping to Nico’s shoulder.

“Damn,” Ari breathed. “Nico, get in the car. We should go.”

“Go now,” the bird insisted.

“Right,” Lance repeated and slid into the driver’s seat.

“I’ve hauled a lot of things in my car, but I don’t think I’ve ever driven a raven across town,” Detective Elliott shook his head as he stopped the car at a red light. Ari sat up front with him; Nico and the unnamed raven were in the backseat.

“I’ve never seen a raven with red feathers under his chin,” Ari sighed. “No idea about this one, or why he showed up now. Nico’s been feeding him tamales behind the restaurant, but I’ve never seen a wild bird settle for riding in a car, even if it is with the guy who keeps him in Mexican food.”

“I can’t figure that out, either, but then nothing about this case makes sense. Why not include a raven who likes tamales and can talk?”

“Most people would freak out,” Ari pointed out. “About a talking raven.”

“I think I’m past that now.” Lance moved the car forward when the light turned green. “I can’t wait to see what happens when we take the bird into the station.”

“I-umm right heere,” the Raven squawked, making both jerk in their seats.

Ari and Nico were led to Lance’s office, where Lance offered them drinks and a place to sit. Ari watched as Lance considered his questions carefully.

“Nico, I know this is hard, but can you tell me whether your parents have acted different lately—anything out of the ordinary?” Lance asked.

Nico was seated on Lance’s desk chair while the raven clung to its high back, hovering above Nico’s right shoulder. The detective leaned casually against the desk to ask his questions, attempting to put Nico at ease while they talked.

“No. Everything was the same,” Nico denied. “School ended last Friday, so I was scheduled to work full evening shifts since then. I usually work weekends when I’m in school unless I have a project to finish and need the time.”

One of Nico’s feet bounced beneath him, making his entire leg shake—a sign of anxiety. He was doing his best to hold it together, when he’d become an orphan in the time it took to blink. Ari understood his fear and confusion.

Too well.

“Have they taken any unusual trips? Been somewhere they wouldn’t normally go?”

“They took a trip to Spain last September. Ever since Mama had us take a family DNA test and she found out she had connections to Garcias in Spain, well, she wanted to go. Papa took her.”

“What part of Spain?” Lance scribbled on his yellow notepad.

“Well, they went to Madrid, of course. Went to see lots of things. Ended up at Santiago de Compostela, before going back to Madrid and flying home. Mama had pictures on her phone. She sent me some of them.”

“Actual connections—as in relatives?” Lance lifted an eyebrow. He was following a trail Ari hadn’t yet considered.

“Distant cousins,” Nico’s shaking leg ramped up a notch. “They didn’t meet any of them—Mama only wanted to see where our Spanish ancestors came from.”

“You’re saying it was just a tourist trip, then?”

“Yes. They had fun. Came back tired and full of stories.” Nico choked on his words. Ari jerked her purse open to dig for tissues—she had some, somewhere. Nico drew his sleeve across his face, eliminating the need. The raven croaked softly and began preening Nico’s hair.

Nico sniffled and then chuckled at the attention he was getting.

“Was there anything they brought home besides pictures? Did they have an itinerary—anything on a computer?” Lance asked as the raven inspected his work, then preened more hair, giving Nico a nice lift to his bangs.

“If they did, it’s on Papa’s computer at home. Mama uses her phone. She hates the computer.”

“Nico, we can’t get to that computer,” Lance said.

“Why not?” Nico raised reddened eyes to the detective.

“I didn’t want to break the news like this, but your house was destroyed not long ago. Looks like that call to the police last night should have been investigated better. Do you have anything we can use on your phone? By the way, you shouldn’t answer it if anyone calls. We think someone may be looking for you, too.”

“Here’s my phone,” Nico pulled it from his pocket. “Why would anybody want to kill us? We didn’t do anything.”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Is there anything on here that you don’t want us to see? I’ll have somebody look through those pictures your mother sent.”

“No.” Nico shrugged helplessly. “I’ll give you my password so you won’t have to break into it.”

“Lance, a word?” Ari’s head jerked around as someone appeared in the doorway.

“I’ll be right back,” Lance said, straightening and walking swiftly from the office.

“Norm’s dead.” Belwether didn’t waste any time giving Lance the bad news. “Went to ask questions at a business across the alley from the restaurant. He was killed inside, along with both store employees. Their security system was ripped out and stolen. I’ve got uniforms all over the place, and forensics checking for evidence.”

“We need to look at the recordings Ari Leone sent to my phone,” Lance growled. “Damn. Norm wasn’t a friend by any stretch, but this really pisses me off.”

“We’ve blocked off half the street, and that won’t go well with tourists and visitors in Deep Ellum tonight.”

“Maybe it’s for the best—we don’t need a crowd getting killed if these assholes are still around.”

“I was hoping they’d died in the restaurant. Unless there are two teams, they hit the house after the restaurant.”

“Yeah, or maybe they planted those bombs at the house last night and detonated remotely.”

“I think the Plano cops are getting questioned about their visit to the house last night,” Belwether grimaced. “If there were any evidence to find, it’s probably obliterated by now. Bomb squad is investigating. I asked for cooperation from the Plano PD. They couldn’t say yes fast enough. Get Mona on those security recordings ASAP,” Belwether added. “I want to know who or what went into that restaurant and killed thirty-four people.”

“How high will the death toll climb?” Lance asked, after wincing at the updated number.

“Restaurant had a max capacity of ninety-five, plus staff and owners. I doubt it was full, but it could be close.”

“I think I want to have a conversation with the Plano officers who went to Nico’s house last night.”

“So do I. We can have a sit-down later. How’s the kid?”

“Not the best. Still in shock, but that could crack any minute. He doesn’t have any family in the States and doesn’t want to go anywhere without Ms. Leone.”

“Is she willing to stay with him—at least temporarily?”

“That’s the feeling I get. There’s something else, too.”

“What’s that?”

“A talking raven, who refuses to leave the kid’s side.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Lance.”

“I’m not joking. Didn’t you notice the bird on the back of my chair when you pulled me away?”

“Wasn’t looking for one. Damn, must be slipping,” Belwether mumbled.

“Come back with me. See for yourself.”

“I think I will.”

Belwether followed Lance back to his office. Just as he’d said, the raven perched on the back of Lance’s chair while Nico, arms crossed tightly over his chest and head down, studied his shoes.

Work shoes, Lance realized. Black leather athletic shoes, suitable for employment in a restaurant. The rest of Nico’s clothing was black, too, with the Blue Taco emblem on the left shoulder of his black polo.

Everything else the kid owned had been blown apart. All he had was his phone and a backpack he’d carried to the gallery before going to work.

“I’ll be damned,” Belwether whispered, jerking Lance away from his thoughts. Belwether was looking at the bird instead of the kid. “Does he have a name?” Belwether stepped into Lance’s office to ask Nico. Lance, wearing a frown, followed him in.

“I don’t know.” Nico’s arms tightened around himself.

“Mac,” the raven croaked.

“Your name is Mac?” Belwether sounded incredulous.

“Cor-mac. Flynn. Call. Me. Mac.” There was a frown in the raven’s croak, since his beak couldn’t transform to convey the message.

“Fucking hell,” Belwether swore softly.

“I think you should ask your questions later,” Ari stood abruptly. “Nico’s had enough for the day.”

“What. She. Said,” the raven agreed.

“We can put Nico in a safe house with guards,” Lance suggested.

“He can come home with me, Detective.” Lance understood that Ari didn’t like Belwether’s intrusion nor his words. She was right, though. Nico looked as if he were barely hanging on.

“Take them to her place,” Belwether snapped at Lance. “Ms. Leone, don’t leave town. I’ll have a unit outside for your protection tonight. Tomorrow, Detective Elliott will call and set up another interview.”

“Thanks for all the warmth and hospitality,” Ari’s eyes and voice had gone so cold Lance wanted to shiver. “We’ll be fine.”

Nico was up and out of the chair fast. Mac flapped to his shoulder and held on. Ari swept out of the office first, followed by Nico.

“What. She. Said,” the raven repeated on the way out.

Ari fumed while Lance drove her and Nico to her house in North Dallas. She knew Lance kept looking her way, hoping to find a way to apologize for the Captain’s gaffe, but she refused to allow an opening.

Besides, it didn’t take a genius—just someone with sensitive hearing—to know Nico was holding back tears while he stroked Mac’s feathers in the back seat. The occasional sniff let her know exactly how things were.

“I’ll call tomorrow,” Lance said as he saw them to Ari’s back door. He waited while she unlocked it and turned off the alarm.

“Thank you, Detective,” Ari said before shutting the door in his face. She was grateful to be stronger than she looked as Nico fell into her arms and sobbed. Mac hopped to a nearby kitchen counter and spoke soft mumblings only a raven might understand.

 

Tour Wide Giveaway

To celebrate the tour for RAVEN RED by Connie Suttle, we’re giving away a paperback copy of the book to one lucky winner!

GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS:  Open to US shipping addresses only. One winner will receive a paperback copy of Raven Red by Connie Suttle. This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Connie Suttle.  Giveaway ends 3/31/2020 @ 11:59pm EST.  CLICK HERE TO ENTER!

 

 

About the Author

CONNIE SUTTLE is the author of the Blood Destiny series, the Legend of the Ir’Indicti series, the High Demon Series, the God Wars series and the Saa Thalarr series. Other titles are scheduled for release very soon.

Connie earned her MFA from the University of Oklahoma and has taught courses at the university level. Reading (and writing) have been a constant throughout her life.

The author lives in Oklahoma with her patient, long-suffering husband and three cats. Obviously, the cats are not so long-suffering and are certainly not patient.

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads  |  BookBub  |  Amazon

 

 

 

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The Empires of Luxor City by Sasha Hope #LGBTQ #fantasy

The Empires of Luxor City Banner

TheEmpiresofLuxorCity-f500Title:  The Empires of Luxor City

Author: Sasha Hope

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: February 3, 2020

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 77400

Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy, LGBT, futuristic, crime/thriller, family-drama, urban fantasy, alpha/omega, gangsters, criminal underworld, reunited, crossdressing, hurt/comfort

 

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ABOUT THE BOOK

In the aftermath of his father’s funeral, Dom Wesa, the new Alpha of Luxor City’s Central Empire, stumbles upon an Omega in desperate need of help. The Omega, Lin Vasiliev, wakes to find he’s been taken into Dom’s home to be rehabilitated. Dom thinks the young addict may have information about the illicit drug trade going on in his Empire. He gets Lin sober to question him only to discover that Lin is new in town and ignorant of Luxor’s laws.

Dom and Lin are both suspicious of each other at first for their own reasons, but as that wariness wears away a deep attraction develops between them. Dom dotes on Lin, leaving the once stone-broke Omega bathed in finery he never could have imagined. They start planning for Lin’s upcoming heat, when they will be driven together by their kindling bond and strong compatibility as an Alpha and Omega pair. However, in the midst of their swelling romance, Luxor’s most notorious Alpha reappears sparking a gang war that threatens to turn the entire city into a battleground.

The Empires of Luxor City Now Available

 

Excerpt

The Empires of Luxor City

Sasha Hope © 2020

All Rights Reserved

 

There had never been fewer tears shed at a funeral.

It was strange. Crowds had wailed at funerals for worse men, but not a single soul in Luxor City wept for Malik Wesa, a business magnate who’d left behind a wife and two sons. They just stood there, all of them staring straight ahead with cold black eyes as the funeral director rolled the old man’s coffin into the crematory. Visible through a tiny char-stained window, the man who’d once been their leader burned down to ash and bone until there was nothing left of him but dust.

Shaking the image from his mind, Dom Wesa walked out through a wrought-iron fence and left the inner-city funeral home. He buried his hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat and made his way back across the busy city streets toward his office on the east side of town.

A chill rolled off the water near the docks as the year moved into fall. Dom originally drove to the funeral home with the rest of the family, but he couldn’t bear to spend another second with them even if it meant enduring the icy wind.

When a family member dies, all too often they are given a whole new life story. This was a universal truth Dom struggled to wrap his head around. There weren’t any tears at his father’s funeral, but there were enough artificial words of kindness to make him grit his teeth and bite his tongue until his eyes watered.

They all loved to mention how hard things would be for Dom with his father gone; how much weight would now fall on his shoulders.

Dom wanted to laugh. He’d been running this town without his old man’s help for ages. The death of the man he had stopped calling father a long time ago wouldn’t change a thing in his day-to-day life; it just made his position more official. Dom was now the eldest Alpha of the Wesa family, one of the great crime families in Luxor City, the capital of New America.

Decades back, when the government’s power over New America first started to crumble, the gangs of Luxor City went to war, fighting for control over the expansive city’s lucrative ports. As Dom walked through the streets, he passed the remnants of that conflict in the form of bullet holes etched into brick walls that lined the sidewalks and boulevards. Luxor hadn’t always been a haven of prosperity. These wounds were stark reminders that they should not let war tear their city apart again. They’d been preserved during reconstruction.

After years of brutality and gangland warfare, the dust finally settled over the metropolitan battleground. Only three factions were left in a city divided by chaos. They brokered a peace treaty, a deal that divided Luxor into three Empires, each ruled firmly by the Alpha heads of the surviving crime families: Wesa in the Center, Faraji in the North, and Sun in the South.

Dom Wesa was the sole Alpha heir to the Central Empire, a great strip of land stretching from the high-rises along the city’s eastern ports all the way to the cliffs on the western coast. Their portion of city was the smallest, but the Center also included the West Island, the final stretch of green pasture and woodland in Luxor, a place where only the wealthiest families could afford acreage.

Sila Wesa, the family’s Omega matriarch, still maintained an estate there. She would probably return home once the ladder-climbing mourners all left her in peace. As an Omega, she was expected to stay home and mourn her Alpha’s death for at least a year. Dom hated thinking of her returning to that vast hollow estate, but she wouldn’t be alone. She had his younger brother, Atsadi, with her.

Maybe they could be happy there now, but Dom couldn’t stand the place.

He made his way to his portside office, the private sanctuary where he conducted the family business, far removed from his father’s offices across from the luxury hotels and nightclubs downtown. It was an old-fashioned Deco-style building, relatively small compared to Luxor’s expansive high-rises, but taller than the nearby brownstone residences lining the old dock’s edge.

Dom entered through the public hall and took the stairs to his office instead of his private elevator. He couldn’t stand still, not even for a minute, not until he got a drink in him.

His office took up most of the fifth floor. A large window lined the street-facing wall, giving him a view of his docks and businesses as well as the swaying blue horizon of the Pacific Ocean.

Ships pulled in and out, always coming and going. The ports were the center of all business in Luxor. They had been around since the city’s foundation and wrapped around the entire coastline, enclosing Luxor in a circle of docks extending out into the water like a sea urchin’s spikes. It was a well-known fact that he who controlled the ports, controlled the trade, and he who controlled the trade, controlled the city.

Dom was fond of the old portside architecture. He had always been keen on the brutalist, Deco styles of ancient cities. He even decorated his office to match with polished wood and geometric patterns of gold emblazoned on black surfaces.

Inside the familiar space he’d made his own, he poured himself a glass of whisky from a decanter on his side table. He took a good long swig before taking a seat in the plush leather chair behind his mahogany desk.

Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes until a quiet thud on his desk drew them open again.

A thin newssheet folded down the middle sat in the center of his desk. Images flashed across its holographic surface. Dom recognized himself, his brother, and his mother in more than one. Fucking paparazzi.

The Luxor City Times headline read: Death of Malik Wesa leaves Central Empire in hands of son, Dominik.

Dom stared at the paper with a deadpan expression. Unblinking, he took another sip of his drink.

“Somehow I figured you’d be back in the office today.”

Dom’s gaze shifted in the direction of the voice.

His right-hand woman, Isa Saqui, stood over his desk smirking down at him.

Isa had been Dom’s eyes and ears ever since terminal illness took his old man out of power and put Dom in charge. She was an Alpha, a member of the dominant sex, like everyone in his inner circle. Isa stood tall, a muscular and imposing woman with angular bone structure casting dramatic shadows over her olive skin. Her long hair was tied in an intricate brunette braid that fell over one shoulder.

Dom turned away from her and picked up the newssheet. Without giving it another glance, he tossed it back across the desk toward her.

“The headline is hilarious,” he muttered before taking another drink.

Isa chuckled as she snatched the thin device back up.

“Isn’t it?” she said as she examined the article. “I mean, it’s not even news. Your old man hadn’t been running shit for years.”

Dom huffed.

It was true. Even before his father’s illness, Dom had been in charge, but Malik’s stint in the hospital had truly put him in power. In under a year, he’d earned the city’s respect and made vast alterations throughout the Central Empire to counter his father’s ineffective rule. Dom had always been in control; nothing would change now Malik Wesa was gone.

“We shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” Dom said, smiling around the rim of his glass.

“Then let’s talk business.” Isa grinned like a shark. “Because I haven’t got anything good to say about the old bastard. How was his funeral, by the way?”

Dom simply shrugged in response. “Let’s talk business.”

With another snort of a laugh, Isa pulled out her phone and started going over a list of the day’s imports. The ships had come in on time, and their guys on the docks were already warehousing their “product,” storing it until it could be shipped throughout Luxor.

“So, we finally received those luxury cars we’ve been waiting for, two weeks late, but that’s the Southern trade route for you. Same shipment had a few crates of unprocessed opium—”

Dom cut in with gritted teeth, “Make sure that goes straight to the labs. Apart from heat suppressants, I don’t want to see that shit on my streets.”

“Already done.” Isa hardly even glanced up from her phone. “The independent Omegas of Luxor are already thanking you. You truly are a hero, Dom, providing them with suppressants and saving them from their dreaded heats. Less mating means more working. Off your backs and on your feet. That can be your campaign slogan.”

Dom eyed Isa, trying to gauge her level of sarcasm before gesturing for her to carry on with a short huff of amusement.

“What else?”

“Firearms from the mainland,” Isa said before listing off the models and manufacturers. “About half of this shipment is being sold to the Sun family in the south. They’ve got an underground trade problem on their hands.”

In the south of Luxor City, the Sun family controlled the majority of the city’s ports, but only imported from the Second Continent, across the western seas. This made them an excellent trading partner for Dom whose eastern ports shipped to and from New America. Whenever the Southern Empire wanted products from the New American mainland, Dom was their man, and when he needed Second Continent shipments, he knew just who to ask.

“All right.” Dom stood from his chair, rubbing his hands together. “The agent from the Sun family will want to see the guns before we truck them over. I’ll call—” Dom stopped abruptly when a terse shout erupted from the streets below, loud enough to resonate through the glass window and into his fifth-floor office.

“What the hell was that?” Isa asked with a furrowed brow.

Dom walked over to glare out of the window. They were right above the lobby, so a glance down offered a clear view of the ground below.

Across the street, a young man stumbled along the sidewalk. Even from the distance, Dom could tell there was something off about him. He swayed with each step, unable to keep to a straight line and using one hand to balance himself against the wall of the opposite building to keep from falling over.

He disappeared into an alleyway, followed closely by another man. This much larger man was the one shouting furiously as he marched into the narrow passage after the boy.

Dom turned from the window and grabbed his coat. Without a backward glance, he stormed out of his office.

“Dom? Hey! What the hell was that?” Isa repeated as he passed. She tried calling after him again, but he was already out of the door.

 

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Meet the Author

Sasha Hope is a lover of story, art and design based in Canada. As a writer and an artist, she enjoys having the opportunity to create new characters and build new worlds for readers to explore. Having studied linguistics and a myriad of languages from a young age, she is passionate about including characters of different backgrounds in her work. Whether the setting is fantasy or reality, she believes that a diverse cast with diverse languages and cultures is a wonderful thing.

Crafting stories that embrace MM romance and erotica is her modus operandi. When she is not creating new worlds she is travelling this one looking for inspiration or enjoying her career in the videogame industry.

 

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One lucky winner will receive a $10.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

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Character Interview with Valerian Smith #FairviewChronicles #paranormalromance @prowlingpiper

I have something special for you today. An interview transcript from the Fairview Mythical Times with Valerian Smith of A TASTE OF MAGIC written by Alexa Piper! Who’s ready to see what the naughty Valerian had to say?

[Fairview Mythical Times, Valerian Smith interview transcript]

FMT: Mr. Smith, thank you for agreeing to this interview and for inviting me into your home.

Valerian Smith: Please, call me Valerian. No need to be so formal. I was quite astounded to find a reporter of the Fairview Mythical Times interested in me, to be honest. You must tell me who told you about me! Your request was ever so intriguing.

FMT: I wish I could, but you know I can’t reveal a source.

VS: Of course. Very reasonable. Are you alright, my dear? You look flushed.

FMT: I’m fine, thank you. Your… your coach is just really impressive.

VS: Isn’t it just? Thank you for noticing. Quite sturdy as well.

FMT: And big. Maybe I should sit over there. To give you some space.

VS: Well, if you must. Do I make you feel uncomfortable or are you always this shy?

FMT: Should we get to the questions?

VS: Certainly. But I thought we had already started.

FMT: I understand you fall on the supernatural spectrum. You are a greed eater, correct?

VS: You can print it that way, but just talk like a normal person, try to relax. To answer, I’m a taotien, yes. Chinese myth has a few things to say about us, some of them thoroughly misconstruing our nature.

FMT: Misconstruing? How so?

VS: Well, they suggest we eat people. We don’t. They also suggest we are evil, malevolent. How about a drink?

FMT: Oh, no thank you. It’s not even noon.

VS: Just some plum wine then, I insist.

FMT: Well, I… thank you. Oh, okay, you are sitting next to me again. Sure that works. So you have no cannibalistic tendencies?

VS: Please. I am no ghoul.

FMT: Right. But you do feast on people’s greed?

VS: Of course. But that’s not a bad thing. Greed makes people do terrible things, or wouldn’t you agree?

FMT: Yes, but–

VS: Wonderful! Let’s drink to that. Cheers!

FMT: …cheers. I really shouldn’t be drinking while working.

VS: Would you rather not be working right now? I could give you a massage.

FMT: I, uhm. No. Thank you. You were saying about greed?

VS: It’s bad. Really bad. The greed. And being tense, that is.

FMT: Tense. I see. What about the goat horns?

VS: My dear, do I look like I have horns? Have some more wine. And may I say, that blouse suits you very well.

FMT: Oh, I really shouldn’t. Thank you, that’s…

VS: Yes?

FMT: Really kind of you.

VS: Of course. Taotien are generally kind. Do you see how the legends are completely off? Mmh, you have an eyelash on your cheek.

FMT: Oh, thanks.

VS: Blow and make a wish. Yes, just like that. Now, would you like me to guess what your wish was? It’ll only take me a single try to get it right. Promise.

FMT: Mr. Smith!

VS: Valerian. Let me turn this off before I tell you what your wish was, before I tell you about your deepest desire, the thing you want the most. You smell downright… greedy.

Want to find out more about Valerian Smith? Check out his book A TASTE OF MAGIC by Alexa Piper. You can get it at Changeling Press.

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Somehow after dropping out of college, Cora’s life has become one part Dresden Files, one part Buffy. She thought she was heading for a boring, uneventful future. Instead she tumbles into the supernatural underbelly of Fairview as a PI’s freshly minted assistant. Will she manage to tame the not-so-vampiric lover who has her on his radar?

Valerian enjoys his life eating the greed of humanity. When he stumbles into Cora, he happens to find her quite the delectable morsel. He wants to savor her fully and introduce her to the paranormal world she’s never known about before. There are annoying creatures to overcome before Valerian can have his way with her. But nothing will keep him from making Cora his.

Content warning: There is brief mention of depression and suicidal thoughts in Cora’s story, but those thoughts are not acted upon.

A Taste of Magic (Fairview Chronicles 1)

 

Find Alexa online at:  Website    Facebook    Twitter    Instagram

Alexa Piper is never sure what mischief her characters are getting up to next.
She writes their stories so she can find out and satisfy her (and your) curiosity.

 

 

Trinity and Jeff by Kate Hill #ParanormalRomance #UrbanFantasy @katehillromance

Trinity and Jeff (Wild Witches of Beaver Bay 3)

Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Denying her love for her childhood friend, Jeff, Trinity visits her family’s ancestral land, believing the Wild family magic has called her there to meet her soulmate. Instead she finds danger at every turn, but she won’t have to face it alone.

Jeff has loved Trinity his whole life, but settled for friendship after she broke his heart on prom night. Now this soldier turned firefighter faces the supernatural to protect Trinity and convince her once and for all that they belong together.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or Pre-Order for January 3rd at Retailers

   

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Hill

Trinity Wild wasn’t sure why she indulged in expectations. All her life she had imagined how it would feel if and when the family magic called her to their ancestral land in the woods of New Hampshire. Somehow, she thought it would wipe out any desire she felt for someone other than her intended life partner. To her frustration, that wasn’t happening.

Yes, she was on her way to meet her soulmate. Of course she was excited and curious. Without doubt, the magic calling her was almost irresistible. The problem was, she wanted to resist it. She and her best friend Jeff had been hanging out at the beach. As usual, they were simply basking in a day off, enjoying comfortable conversation with long lags of silence that came from a connection shared by two people who had known each other forever.

Trinity and Jeff had been friends since pre-school. They had grown up as close as siblings. Her family even called him an honorary Wild. In high school, they had dated other people, but Trinity had sworn she would never enter a real relationship with anyone until the family magic guided her to her soulmate. Jeff and Trinity had even gone to the prom with separate dates, but ended up leaving with each other when their own dates flirted more with others than with them. It didn’t matter. Trinity would rather be with Jeff than with anyone else. It was on prom night, however, that their entire world changed. Jeff told her flat out that he wanted to move their relationship to the next level.

Despite a strong desire to accept Jeff’s offer, Trinity knew it would be a mistake. If they stayed friends, she would be free to answer the call of her soulmate, but if they upgraded, she would never want to leave Jeff. She already loved him more than she should. Jeff would understand.

Yes, he’d backed off — so far that he joined the army. Even then, they had kept in touch. Several years later, after an honorable discharge, Jeff returned home and became a firefighter. Trinity had expected him to get married and have kids. It wouldn’t be easy to watch, but she wanted him to be happy. Jeff told her he wasn’t ready for that, and she had been concerned that he still might have romantic feelings for her. Yet he never mentioned dating again, and hadn’t tried to kiss her on the mouth since that prom night so long ago.

It wasn’t that Trinity didn’t find him attractive. He wasn’t traditionally handsome — his face was sort of rugged, but incredibly sexy. He had intense, perceptive dark eyes and a gorgeous body — tall and muscular without being overly bulky. He reminded her of a great cat — lithe and powerful. She wasn’t exactly sure when she’d starting thinking about him in that way — probably sometime during their senior year in high school. Back then, he’d been tall and gangly, but already showing signs of the powerful man who returned home from the army.

Trinity shook her head and reminded herself that now more than ever she and Jeff would never be anything more than friends. She focused on driving her jeep down the stretch of dirt road leading through the woods to the cabin that had been in her family since 1883. In the past, many members of the Wild family had been powerful witch warriors who had dedicated their lives to battling supernatural threats. Jude and Ruth Wild had built the cabin and placed a blessing on the land on which it stood. Since then, whenever a member of the Wild family felt a peculiar warmth that called them to the cabin, they invariably met their soulmate.

Now it was Trinity’s turn.

 

More from Kate Hill at Changeling Press …

Always a fan of romance and the paranormal, I started writing over twenty years ago. My first story was accepted for publication in 1996. Since then I’ve written over one hundred short stories, novellas and novels. I love to blend genres. I also love horror and a happily ever after, so if you’re looking for romance with witches, aliens, vampires, angels, demons, shapeshifters and more, there’s a good chance you’ll find something to your taste here.

When I’m not writing, I enjoy reading, watching horror and action movies, working out and spending time with my family and pets.  I love hearing from readers, so feel free to leave a comment at my blog or connect with me on Twitter.

 

My Two Front Fangs by Emily Carrington #UrbanFantasy #holidaystories #Christmas #LGBT #GayRomance

CHP_EC_Fangs_3

Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

As the holidays approach, Luis and Charlie are looking forward to spending time together. But after Charlie’s mother commits suicide, a whole host of problems arise to threaten Charlie and Luis’s marriage. Can the healing promise of Christmas save them?

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or pre-order for December 13th at retailers

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

“All I want for Solstice is my two front fangs… so I can bite you on the ass.”

Luis was singing under his breath but some of the other trackers probably heard him. Ethan would; he was a werewolf. Wind Child might; he was an elemental and who knew what kind of powers he did or didn’t have? Garrett didn’t have sharp ears, although his eyes were keen as a hawk’s so maybe he saw Luis’s mouth moving and could read his lips. As for Pierce, he probably missed everything, human that he was.

Except it was Pierce who said, “Whatever you’re muttering over there, Delgado, keep it to yourself, would you?”

“If you can’t tell what it is, why does it bother you?”

“Because everyone else is snickering and I hate being left out of the joke.”

“I’ll share,” Pierce’s tracker partner, Garrett, said. “Although it’s nothing to write home about, just kindergarten humor.” And he repeated Luis’s song, his voice rich and melodious.

Under the cover of Garrett’s singing, Ethan muttered, “I thought you’d be singing ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’.”

“Only if I actually knew my Life Dancer was going to be home. ‘Home in my dreams’ is not my idea of a happy ending to all this waiting.” His beloved, Charlie, alpha above all alphas, had been gone more often than he was home lately. “Putting out fires,” was how Charlie put it.

In addition to playing negotiator/firefighter, Charlie had been seeking… well, permission wasn’t the right word. Neither was approval. He wanted to practice shifting from human to wolf. Being a half werewolf, he’d been under the impression, as all the wolves in North America were, that only full-blooded werewolves could change to four-legged guise. And then the research came down: half wolves weren’t subject to the call of the moon, required to change when that heavenly orb was full, but they could still change at will.

With practice.

The alphas below Charlie, although they had no true say over what he did or didn’t do, had kicked up a mighty stink about their leader risking his life. Because while the change was possible, no one knew exactly how dangerous it would be.

Luis was confident that Charlie would be okay. Wasn’t shifting only dangerous for pups who weren’t strong enough because of their age or constitution?

His cell phone buzzed. Luis tended to keep it in the top drawer of his desk because the buzzing seemed loud to his psychic vampire ears. Now he drew it out and glanced at the screen casually, most of his attention still on Ethan, who was looking at him sympathetically.

Tilthos Charles: Be there in ten minutes. Meet you upstairs.

Luis almost dropped the phone.

“What is it?” asked Pierce, the nosy bastard.

Luis saw by Ethan’s face that he didn’t need to ask; Luis’s tracker partner was sharp, particularly when it came to reading those closest to him.

Luis got up, set his cell on the desk, and headed for the door.

“Trouble?” Pierce asked, getting to his feet.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Garrett said. “Let him go.”

Luis started for the stairs at a brisk walk. One did not run in SearchLight headquarters, even if said headquarters was small and considered a “backwater” by the rest of the organization.

He grinned. His Life Dancer was here, in this building, or very nearly.

Luis strode out of the stairwell and into the antechamber of the director’s office. He smiled at the secretary, the mother of one of the Tilthos Pack’s members. He addressed her in Spanish, his native language and hers. “Good morning,” he said in his mother tongue. “How are you this morning?”

She smiled. She’d been treating him like a son since moving to the United States to be closer to her daughter. “Good morning, Luis, my son. Do you need to see Agent Shalling?”

“Nope. Tilthos Charles is back.” He was careful to call his Charlie “Tilthos Charles” whenever he spoke of him, and his cell phone said his mate’s title and full name. Nicknames were verboten among the werewolves. The only reason Charlie was “Charlie” to Luis was because he’d been cursed with the nickname when he was young as a sign of disrespect, and he’d claimed it as a name of power. He was Charlie to himself and always would be. And he was Charlie to his nearest and dearest, at least the wolves who could get over themselves and their sense of propriety enough to recognize that calling him Charlie wasn’t a slur. At least not in their alpha’s mind.

“He’s not here yet,” Luis was told.

He nodded. “I know. I just wanted to be waiting when he finally arrives.”

The door to the director’s office opened and Agent Andrea Shalling stepped out. As always when she saw Luis, she looked as if she’d been sucking on a lemon. “What is the purpose of all this noise?”

Luis, cognizant of his role as Charlie’s mate and yet his lesser status as a tracker rather than a member of the leadership, asked, “Will you speak with me privately, Agent Shalling?”

She sighed. “All right.” She walked back into the director’s, into Charlie’s, office.
Luis followed. When the door was closed, he approached her and, keeping his voice low, said, “Calling another language ‘noise’ is disrespectful.”

She flushed. “I wasn’t calling Spanish noise, but your loud voice is, Agent Delgado.”

Luis could have cheerfully decked her. Instead, he announced, “Tilthos Charles will be here momentarily.”

Her eyes widened for the briefest instant. Then she said, her voice casual, “I wonder why he didn’t text or call me.”

Luis hid a smirk.

There was the muffled sound of tapping, like hard-soled shoes on tile and conversation outside the door, and then the knob turned.

Charlie, looking both tired and exultant, walked in. In his left hand was a briefcase. In his right was his white cane. He smiled at Andrea and walked to Luis. In front of God and everybody, he kissed Luis.

And kissed him.

And kissed him.

 

MORE FROM EMILY AT CHANGELING PRESS …