New Today at Changeling Press! #RomanceBooks #NewRelease

Snake Charmer (Confessions 1)

Skye: I’m a lone wolf, but I’ve left the forest to fight against demons who’ve taken over the world. Right now I’m with a pack in Baltimore, but their alpha respects my ways. I take assignments from him, but I live alone and fight alone — until the night I’m attacked by a swarm of bat demons and a hot little snake dancer jumps in to back me up. For me, it’s lust at first sight, but it’s more than that. I think this adorable little tough guy is my mate, even though he’s not a wolf.

Erik: I’m called Snake Charmer. Dancer. Contortionist. Spirit twin to an alien serpent who has always been my protector. My life has been a series of horrors with some beautiful experiences tossed in. I’ve learned to be independent, especially after my best friend and I were brutalized in an attack that left her dead. Now I’m out for revenge, and it’s brought me to Maryland, directly into the path of a gorgeous werewolf who makes me feel things I never dreamed of. It can’t last, though, and nothing, not even desire this deep, will come between me and my vendetta.

Warning: While set in a futuristic paranormal reality, Snake Charmer includes references to previous child abuse, rape, and murder that may be triggers to some readers.

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

#ParanormalRomance #Gay #Vampires #Werewolves #AlienEncounters

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Combustible (Roanoke River Omegas 3)Long, lean, wild and unconventional for an Omega, Zane rocks and rolls Alpha Grant’s world. Zane can’t be predicted. He can’t be contained. And Grant freaking loves it.

But it’s not all beer and BJs, even for these two. Grant’s never wanted to have kids of his own. His family is Legacy Tattoo, the business he finally reclaimed after his grandfather’s death. He’s dedicating his life to making it not just flourish but thrive. And he doesn’t know — yet — about Zane’s status as a single father to a rambunctious pre-K rebel.

Their love affair is gonna be complicated. And — downright combustible.

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

#LGBTQ+ #Mpreg #ParanormalRomance

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Feral Heat (Feral 6)

Think werewolves aren’t real?

Tell that to the four women and one man who find themselves captive to the whims of the Zante pack’s males. Fierce, mythical, and sexy-as-sin, these delightfully debauched wolves guide their lovers through a journey of seductive exploration. Whether newly discovered or rekindled, their relationships are as passionate as they are.

And the women can give as good as they take. From a fairy bent on revenge to a vixen determined to destroy the pack, they’ll all discover that getting caught is its own reward.

Wild and dangerous, menacing and exciting, otherworldly and naughty to the last…

The men of the Zante pack will make a believer out of you.

Publisher’s Note: This box set contains the previously released novellas Firecrackers: Chemistry to BurnFeral MagnetismFeral BachelorismFeral Hedonism, and Feral Voyeurism. 

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

#LGBTQ+ #werewolves #multiplepartners

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The Hunter’s Bride by Alexa Piper #paranormalromance #vampires @prowlingpiper

The Hunter's Bride (Dusk & Dawn 1)

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

 

Maxim, tall, whimsical, and a vampire, wants to hire a curator for his art collection. Robyn, a newly minted art historian looking for a job, loves fine art and old stuff, and Maxim soon realizes she is not just perfect for the job, but also for him.

Robyn never liked prejudices against vampires, werewolves, or Fae, but the moment she starts working for a vampire, things appear less black and white, especially when she begins to fall for her new boss.

Robyn and Maxim’s young love will have to overcome odds and odd vampires who take issue with the fact that Maxim happens to be a vampire hunter who doesn’t shy away from decapitating his own kind.

 

Get it today at Changeling Press
or preorder for May 15th at retailers

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Alexa Piper

Brian seemed to be slipping. He’d called up to tell Maxim of the interviewee’s arrival only about twenty seconds before the elevator had dinged, which barely gave Maxim the time to refresh his memory in regard to her name.

Heath had left a file on his desk titled Interviews, and Maxim had complained at the sheer lack of imagination that was obvious in that title. Heath had used magic marker to write it, though, and Maxim had wondered, out loud, if Heath had missed the developmental stage crayons were clearly meant for. Upon which Heath had broken into verbiage that came odorously dripping from the verbiage gutter. Heath had informed him that he, Maxim, best not pull any of this bodily refuse with the artsy people. They were, after all, artsy people and not likely to enjoy such shenanigans, at least if Heath’s soliloquy was to be believed. It was a shame the creativity he had displayed in his colorful speech had not translated into the simplistic title of the file that had sparked it.

“Robyn with a y,” Maxim mumbled to himself as he walked toward the elevators. “Y, y, y… Why would whiskey-vending witches want vigor with their witchy wits?” He pushed a strand of his hair back behind his shoulder and put on a smile. He could smell the interviewee even before he saw her, some perfume he didn’t know, light and floral, forgettable as Valentine’s Days spent alone. The scent underneath that was sunshine-warmed skin, a slight note of crushed cardamom pods. A shame to hide that with such perfume.

When Maxim laid eyes on the interviewee, he could feel his pupils spill black, and he immediately understood why Brian had taken so long to pick up the phone. Robyn with a y Somerton was gorgeous, though very much on the skinny side, always something that made Maxim’s memories of hunger float back to the surface of his mind, no matter how long ago that had been. Her hair was dark and wonderful, lush ebony, and her gray eyes and pale skin made her deep purple dress look even better on her. But damn it, he had promised Heath.

“Miss Somerton, thanks for coming in for the interview. My name is Maxim Vallois. I believe you talked to my assistant over the phone?” Now, there’s some perfect manners for you right there, Heath. If only that dhampire brat were here to see it.

The shock on her face at seeing Maxim and realizing what he was would have been amusing, should have been amusing, but for the first time in decades, Maxim felt futile fury at the reaction rise inside of him. She did go a shade paler, though, which was pretty.

“Y-yes. About the curator position?” she said, catching herself rather quickly and reining her expression back into normal. Maxim liked her voice. It was calm, not shrill. Heath sometimes brought home shrill, and that was usually headache inducing, rhetorically speaking. Maxim did not actually get headaches.

“Certainly. Please, come in.” Part of him wondered whether she would run. She was wearing terrible heels for that, and because he cared and paid attention, Maxim was pretty sure she was already headed for at least one blister on her left heel. Maxim had never understood heels, nor foot binding. He had understood what it said about having power over women, but he’d loathed that, loathed that society made it necessary for women to give that power.

Not the time to wax philosophical, Maxim reminded himself. Heath, if he were here and not away doing something that had to do with banks and money, would have been seething in the acid of his own glaring stares already. Stares glare glistening staffs of seeping solace. Not my best one, Maxim thought.

Robyn with a y came forward. Clearly she had decided running would be stupid. Mmh, Heath. Did you get me a final girl? Maxim filed that as a nice line for later. When he would tell Heath he wanted Robyn with a y. He wasn’t even sure why. It sure as bodily refuse wasn’t the cheap perfume, and it wasn’t the mildly scrawny look that Maxim found mildly headache inducing. Perhaps it was that stare of not quite fear but close enough to fear. Or lust at first sight? Who knows. Whatever the why, Maxim wanted her.

Of course Maxim couldn’t just spring this on Y Robyn. It would sound as if he were planning to make her a plaything, something Maxim knew good and well vampires did. He could go off on a whole other tangent about that nasty habit. He had to at least give Y Robyn the impression she had won the job, and of course he needed to be able to tell Heath as well, so he led her to the cluttered table he had lovingly prepared for the magic marker interview.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Y Robyn said when he shook her hand. “You know how fickle the subway can be.”

“I don’t, actually. But it’s no trouble. This way.” He made a mental note of checking out the subway. It might be fun, ethnologically speaking.

When Y Robyn saw his table, she summed it up wonderfully concisely. “Wow,” she said, and Maxim glanced at her saucer wide eyes and at the appealing slackness of her drooping jaw.

 

About Alexa Piper

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Her retelling of Dracula, A Tale of Honey and Garnet Wine, might be a cursed manuscript, and every writer should have at least one of those. She also loves writing series, and her Fairview Chronicles follow a ragtag gang of supernaturals who try to make their city safer. Mostly. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter!

Alexa at Changeling Press | Website| Facebook

 

Master of Honor by Angela Knight #urbanfantasy #vampires @AngelaKnight

Master of Honor (Merlin's Legacy 5)

Cover Art by Angela Knight

A month ago, Cheryl Parker thought she was an ordinary woman — a nurse, a mother, a woman whose lover had walked out. Now she’s gained incredible power thanks to an alien spirit who has made her immortal. She looks twenty again. And her ex is back.

It’s not unusual to discover an old lover kept secrets, but some are harder to believe than others. Ulf’s secret is that he’s an immortal vampire Knight of the Round Table. The good news is, he still loves Cheryl. The bad news is, he thinks the creature inhabiting her is a potential threat to humanity. The worst news is, there is a threat — and it could well kill them all.

Ulf wants nothing more than to be with Cheryl again. The problem is her magic resembles that of a dragon who tried to set a small town ablaze. And she knows more about the creature than she’s saying.

Even as passion rekindles between them, Cheryl and Ulf must overcome years of lies and mistrust. Otherwise they’re doomed — and so is everyone else. Because the creature stalking them is something worse than a dragon. Much, much worse.

Get it at Changeling Press

Use code TGIF03-27-2020 for 15% off your entire order!

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Angela Knight

Brandon Sanders was five years old. The odds were high he’d never see six.

Cheryl Parker stood at the foot of his hospital bed, watching the machines tracking his heartbeat, respiration, and blood oxygen. Eyelashes as thick and black as crow feathers stood out against his bloodless cheeks beneath the thick bandaging encircling his head. The tube of a ventilator distorted his mouth, the machine hissing as it breathed for him. She wondered whether his eyes were his mom’s soft brown or the blue-gray of his dad’s.

Jenny Sanders had said her son had played Hulk to his brother’s Iron Man all morning, running around the house, laughing and giggling. Until he’d raced out the front door into the yard, his brother hot on his heels…

Right into the path of his father’s practice tee shot. The golf ball slammed into Brandon’s temple in precisely the wrong spot, fracturing the thin bone and embedding fragments in his brain.

One frantic ambulance trip to Mecklenburg Memorial later, a neurosurgeon had removed a chunk of the boy’s skull to allow room for the swelling that would otherwise damage his brain. The doctor had tucked the square of bone beneath the skin of Brandon’s abdomen until it could be reattached once the danger was past. He’d cleaned out the skull fragments and closed, and the prayers had begun.

So far, they’d gone unanswered.

The ventricles of the child’s brain were filling with blood, a sign of encroaching brain death. More surgery was needed to repair the bleed, but it was too deep in the brain. Dr. Deepak Anand feared he couldn’t even get to the blood vessel without killing the child. Anand had spent all afternoon calling hospitals around the country, trying to find a neurosurgeon with the skill to risk operating. After one look at Brandon’s CT scans, they’d all turned him down.

The neurologist had scheduled a proof-of-life electroencephalogram for later tonight to see if Brandon was brain dead. If so, his parents would have to decide whether to take him off life support. Based on his declining vitals, nobody thought he had a prayer of passing the EEG.

Brandon had one chance, and one chance only. Cheryl.

She wasn’t a doctor, much less a neurosurgeon. Yes, she’d been a nurse for almost forty years, fifteen of them as a nursing supervisor. She’d treated thousands of sick and dying people, and she’d fought like hell for every one of them. Too often, there’d been nothing she could do. She’d been only human.

Cheryl wasn’t sure what she’d become last month, but “only human” no longer applied. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have to cast spells to make her twenties-looking face appear its true fifty-nine. Mirrors were still freaking her out. She’d glimpse herself and think, Who is that kid and what is she doing in my house?

So yeah, she had power. But this was brain damage that scared neurosurgeons who thought they were gods. Can I pull this off?

The answering silence in her head seemed to tick.

At last Gaia’s voice whispered through her mind like the sigh of leaves in a cold wind, inhuman and distant. If we do nothing, the Sight tells me his parents will be planning his funeral tomorrow.

Shit. She remembered the look on his father’s face. That stunned I’ve-killed-my-boy expression had made her worry Stephen Sanders would try to self-medicate with a bullet. Where would that leave his wife and eldest child?

Cheryl had never faced anything like this with her son Adam, but she could imagine how she’d feel. Paul would have been devastated…

Not Paul, she reminded herself. His name is Ulf. He lied about that like he lied about everything else. Despite the bitterness in that thought, there was longing in the next. Will he show up again tonight?

After twenty-eight years without a word, Ulf had dropped by half a dozen times in the last month. Probably making sure she hadn’t gone evil and started eating the neighbors.

Who the hell cares? she told herself impatiently. Healing this kid is what matters.

Besides, she’d violated her own code of magical ethics to create the opportunity. First she’d had to put a spell on Brandon’s parents to send them down to the cafeteria for dinner. Otherwise they wouldn’t have left for more than a few minutes. They’d be gone for the next hour. Then she’d compelled the medical staff to ignore anything odd going on in Brandon’s room. She’d laid a third spell on the equipment, making sure everything would maintain the same readings the machines were recording now. Otherwise, changes to Brandon’s heartbeat and respiration might raise questions later she wouldn’t want to answer.

Damn, she hated using her power to fuck with people’s heads. This was the same kind of shit witches had done to her. Guess I’ll just have to live with being a hypocrite. Gaia, can we pull this off in the time we have?

About Angela Knight

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight’s first book was written in pencil and illustrated in crayon; she was nine years old at the time. A few years later, she read The Wolf and the Dove and fell in love with romance. In addition to her fiction work, Angela’s publishing career includes a stint as a comic book writer and ten years as a newspaper reporter. Several of her stories have won South Carolina Press Association awards. Angela lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a detective with the Spartanburg PD.

Angela at Changeling Press | Website

 

 

Executive Decisions by Marteeka Karland #PNR #vampires #werewolves #boxset @marteekakarland

2023

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Safe companionship for the executive woman. On the go? Need protection, or a male escort while out of town? Our service provides the best-trained escorts who cater to your unique needs as a business professional and as a woman. All our men are guaranteed to flatter your senses, yet remain unobtrusive when the need arises.

You’ll make the best impression by having a companion who is knowledgeable in your field of business, yet knows when to make you the center of attention. Remember, you’re the executive. It’s your decision.

Four women find themselves thrust into a world where fantasy and reality intertwine in a more than pleasurable way. Where every single move made is completely for her satisfaction. Where even the darkest desires are fulfilled. Where the men of their dreams have one goal — to leave them sore, hoarse and still begging. A girl could get used to this…

Publisher’s Note: Executive Decisions contains the previously published novellas By The Numbers, One Night Only, Hidden Agenda, and Research Only.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

 

or pre-order at retailers for September 27th

 

   

also available in paperback

 

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Marteeka Karland
Excerpt from By the Numbers

“Good morning, D and S Attorneys, how may I help you?” Zoe Carter answered the phone professionally, as always. She always did her best no matter what job she was doing.

“You can start by making sure the damned coffee is fresh.” She grimaced. Unfortunately, her employers weren’t so congenial. From the sound of it, Sebastian Collingsworth wasn’t in a particularly good mood. “And get me a decent shirt from Julian’s.”

“Yes –” The line went dead. “– sir.” She sighed. “Good morning to you, too, asshole.”

Working for vampires sucked. Literally. Zoe Carter was just thankful she wasn’t on the menu.

She was the accountant and receptionist for Dorian and Sebastian Collingsworth, owners of D&S Collingsworth, Attorneys at Law, and had been for the last ten years. Because she was the most senior staff member — OK, so she was the only staff member — she saw the men at their best and worst. She also knew D&S Attorneys was only part of what the two big vampires did.

As a rule, the pair weren’t exactly morning people. Other than that, they didn’t seem to have any of the weaknesses she’d always thought vampires had. Instead, they had the arrogant belief they were superior to every being on the planet. Like most men she knew.

One thing the pair had on other men was the second job. They also worked for a very high-class escort service for women with particular and… intense tastes. On more than one occasion, they’d called her to come in before dawn to help one or both of them to their underground chamber at the office.

At first, she’d worried about them getting caught — and her being trapped in the middle of some illegal prostitution ring. Being paranoid made her hyper aware of the people around her, especially when the local sheriff was a frequent visitor. There seemed to be several people who not only knew about the side business the two vampires had going on, but also that they were vampires. When she’d questioned Dorian about it, he’d laughed at her, saying not everyone was so naive to believe everyone in the world was human. As if the whole friggin’ town of Mount Bell was populated with vampires!

There was no denying their sex appeal. Zoe creamed her panties every day she went to work. These men exuded sex. The nasty, raunchy kind. They definitely fit the part they were apparently expected to play. She had heard them talking on more than one occasion about enjoyable bouts of kink. It was definitely the kind of sex nice girls like herself didn’t participate in.

Yeah. Right.

Damn.

It was a good thing she was so good at her job. As it was, she had to constantly recheck her figures. She found concentration almost impossible at times. She was too busy trying to catch glimpses of the two sexy men.

The only bad thing was she couldn’t stand either of them. Oh, they were nice enough to almost everyone. Just not to her. The only reason she stayed was because every time she tried to leave, they’d give her a raise, or a “continuance bonus.”

Aside from that, they were the biggest assholes in the world. They never smiled at her, never told her she did a good job, and treated her like a servant. It was almost like they wanted her to hate them.

As to today, she’d had this morning’s conversation with one or the other of them several times over the years and she knew better than to come back with only a “decent shirt.” Before she left, she put on a pot of dark roast and took the company credit card. She’d get a complete change of clothing for each of them. Julian would know what she needed.

By the time the brothers entered the office via the back entrance, she was back with everything they could possibly need.

“God, I need a Scotch.”

Except that.

Dorian looked like he’d been in a barroom brawl rather than on a date with some rich man or woman who needed companionship for the night and didn’t want complications. In fact, it looked like there had been plenty of complications last night. Blood and dirt streaked his clothing and face. His hair was a matted mess instead of the shiny, silky black it normally was.

“Just wash up and change clothes, Dorian. Griping about it isn’t helping.”

“If I’d known he was a junkie, I wouldn’t be in this situation, Sebastian. You’re the Psy. You should have warned me.” Both men were clearly agitated, and the longer Zoe listened to them, the more alarmed she grew. Dorian obviously expected Sebastian to have warned him about the drugs, but Zoe knew it was very likely Sebastian didn’t know. He could sense strong emotions, not read minds, and the strong emotions he could sense was what he fed from. As it was, she was terribly afraid they’d done something awful.

“What did you two do? If you’ve killed someone, I swear I’ll be the first one to go to the police.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and Sebastian gave her a scathing look. “Of course we didn’t kill anyone,” Sebastian snapped.

Dorian barked a sharp laugh. “No, but I may later. Doesn’t our contract state that drugs and alcohol are strictly prohibited?”

“Would you two stop for a minute?” As Dorian undressed, Zoe grew increasingly alarmed. When he took off his suit jacket and turned around, she saw nasty gashes on his back. They were deep and angry looking, already getting red at the edges as if infection was imminent. She approached Dorian and carefully touched the edge of one such gash.

“Fucking hell!” He jumped and whipped around. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“This happened last night?” Zoe ignored her employer’s outburst. She was used to it. When she reached out again to touch the irritated skin to see if it was warm, Dorian rounded on her.

“Don’t fucking touch me! The only thing you need to concern yourself with is giving me the clothes I asked for, then getting the hell out!”

Zoe had never seen him like this. Sebastian gripped Dorian’s shoulder as if to hold the man back. Dorian looked absolutely furious. What the hell had she done to set him off?

“I was just trying to help. You’re hurt.”

“When I want your help, I’ll ask for it, mortal. Now get the fuck out!”

Zoe had never backed down from either of them before, but something in the way he looked at her scared the holy hell out of her. She backed out of the room, grabbed the clothes she’d acquired and tossed them in the general direction of the men. With one last angry look, Zoe turned and walked out the door.

Fuck it. She didn’t need this. She had a vacation coming. They’d have to live with her taking it early. Unless a couple weeks of solitude changed her mind, she wouldn’t be back.

Fuck it. Fuck them.

 

More from Marteeka at Changeling Press …

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.

Want to see what’s up with Marteeka? Check out her website at www.marteekakarland.com or join her Yahoo! group at marteekakarland-subscribe@yahoogroups.com. Marteeka always welcomes e-mail from her readers. You can reach her at mkarland@gmail.com. Check out Marteeka’s blog here: marteekakarland.blogspot.com.

 

 

Inked by Kate Kill #PNR #NewRelease #bisexual #multiplepartners #vampires #shifters @changelingpress @katehillromance

 

Destined mates surrender to irresistible passion and fall desperately in love.

 

Inked (Inked 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Box Set, Bisexual and More,
Multiple Partners, Vampires, Shifters

 

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Destined mates surrender to irresistible passion and fall desperately in love.

Rough Waters: Geoffrey meets a woman he can’t resist, but is Samantha part of a scheme to tempt him into indulging in his long-repressed bloodlust?

Cactus Juice: Stranded on a desert road, Adrian meets a sexy biker who offers him a ride — in more ways than one.

Mountain Men: Jay thought their situation couldn’t get any more complicated until Lydia arrives. She must find a way to bring about peace, or see both Kaelen and Jay destroyed!

Climax: A warlock’s evil spell sent Angela down a path of destruction. The only man who can save her is the one she considers her worst enemy — Damon Tinta.

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Hill
Excerpt from Rough Waters

The man performing pull-ups caught Samantha’s eye not only because he had a body like a heavyweight boxer, but because tattoos covered him from the top of his shaved head to the waist of his black workout pants. The artwork probably extended to his lower body too.

At the gym she normally didn’t gawk at other people but focused on her workout, yet this guy commanded attention. On her way to the free weights, she passed him and stared at the broad expanse of his sweat-slicked back. Her gaze focused on the tattoo of a ship at sea. His rippling muscles gave the illusion of waves rippling around the vessel.

Samantha paused, unable to look away from the waves moving up and down.

Up and down.

Up and…

The spray of salt water on her face roused Samantha from her stupor. Her heart pounding, she glanced around. Instead of the familiar sight of weights, treadmills and other gym equipment around her, she saw people — most in evening wear — mingling on the deck of a yacht.

Glancing down, she nearly gave a scream of shock to find her workout clothes had been replaced by a low-cut, sleeveless silver gown and matching strappy sandals.

“Are you all right?” asked a slightly raspy but sexy male voice. A hand gently touched her lower back.

“No, I don’t know what happened,” she said, turning and staring into the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen. They gazed at her with concern and underlying strength. He had a chiseled yet masculine face topped with reddish blond hair cropped close to his head. A strange feeling swept her, but she blamed it on the sudden disappearance of the gym.

“What do you mean?” he asked. This time Samantha detected a slight English accent. Tall and lean, he wore snug jeans, and the sleeves of his tan shirt were rolled up, exposing his powerful forearms. The shirt was open almost to his navel, and she tried not to get distracted by the sight of his sculpted chest.

“I don’t know how I got here. I was at the gym and… I have no idea where I am.” Panic almost overtook her, but the man slid an arm around her and guided her away from the ship’s rail.

She probably should have pulled away, but at the moment she needed someone to take control. Truly she had never felt so confused and scared in her life.

“Did you have a lot to drink?” he asked.

“I don’t drink.”

“Are you here with someone or did John invite you?”

“John?”

“He owns the yacht.”

“I don’t know any John with a yacht,” Samantha said and allowed him to lead her below deck to a room decorated in red and black. People mingled, drinking, dancing and talking. A bar stood at the far corner of the room and to her right people lingered around a buffet table.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Samantha. And you?”

“Geoffrey.” He guided her onto a chair and stooped in front of her, gently tilting her head from one side to the other, his blue gaze fixed on her neck.

At that moment she collected herself — or started to.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “Where am I exactly?”

“We’re somewhere off the coast of Hawaii. You don’t remember anything?”

“Yeah. I told you, I was at the gym and –“

“There’s a doctor aboard. I’ll get him. Don’t move.”

He stood and walked away. Despite being dumbfounded, she noticed the curve of his tight ass in the jeans.

What was wrong with her? She had absolutely no recollection of arriving on this ship, of being invited, or of meeting anyone named John.

Moments later, Geoffrey returned with a shorter, dark-haired man dressed in black whom he introduced as Dr. Wayne Butler. He asked her a series of questions, such as her address and the date, which Samantha answered without difficulty.

“I’m not crazy,” she said, then her brow furrowed. Or was she? After all, she was here on this yacht but had no idea how she had arrived.

A third man approached, this one tall and pale with steel gray eyes. He wore a black suit and charcoal tie. His short black hair was perfectly styled, despite the cool ocean breeze.

“John, what can you tell us about Samantha?” asked the doctor.

Geoffrey stared hard at their host, whose handsome brow furrowed. He shook his head and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“No. We haven’t,” Samantha said. She’d have remembered him. He had eyes like the villain in a suspense flick.

“She doesn’t remember how she got here,” Dr. Butler said. “I suggest letting her rest for a while and turning back to shore. She should be checked out at a hospital.”

John smiled. “Of course. Samantha, do you need help back to your room?”

“I don’t have a room,” she said.

“Don’t worry. We’ll find you one.” John offered her his arm.

“I’ll take her,” Geoffrey interrupted.

He and John locked gazes, and Samantha had the awful feeling they would come to blows then and there.

PRET OPS by EmmaRay Garrett #SecondEdition #PNR #Vampires #Werewolves @changelingpress

Even on the toughest op, there’s always time for love.
If you don’t get killed first.

 

Pret Ops (Pret Ops 5)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Renee George
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Paranormal, Bisexual and More,
Shapeshifters, Werewolves, Vampires
Length: Box Set

This collection contains the previously released Pret Ops novellas FamiliarWarWolfInfiltrator, and Identity.

In a world where preternaturals work behind the scenes to keep men and supermen safe, the Recondite Corps is the CIA, FBI, and Armed Services all in one.

Familiar: In the wilderness of Siberia, the past will resurrect itself and secrets will be exposed. There’s only one way to defeat The Veil, but can Stas and Nat do it, alone?

WarWolf: All Jeremiah has to do is convince Joshua that in order to stop the mounting violence between the human mob and the Heteroclites, they’ll need the help of the only female the Ascendant vampire can’t forget.

Infiltrator: Brian O’Connor has been in the office too damn long. Rescuing the President’s daughter from guerillas sounds like the perfect op: a little action, a little fresh air, an exotic locale.

Identity: After building the newest branch of the Corps, Cyber Operations, John and Cole Marshall are ready for a real test of their new unit’s skills. Being called in to track down a stalker turned murderer targeting one of their own sounds right up Cy Ops’ alley.

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emma Ray Garrett
Excerpt from Pret Ops 3: Infiltrator

Charlie groaned, lifting a hand to her aching forehead. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into now?” The sickening pound in her skull didn’t provide an answer.

Charlene Thompson, First Daughter, was stuck in a shit hole, somewhere near the equator based on the oppressive heat, with no idea who’d cracked her on the skull and brought her to this place. It was safe to assume it had to do with her father and/or politics, but beyond that…

The acrid smell of wood smoke and the sickly sweet stench of decomposing plants clogged her nostrils. Her skin felt grimy, sticky, where sweat had partially dried and mixed with the dirt of the floor beneath her. Charlie ached for a hot bath for about a half a second. You can bathe when you’re free.

Weak sunlight drifted in through tiny, irregular holes cut high into the walls of the room. Her vision blurred and her stomach pitched, but Charlie choked down the bile. Blinking to clear her sight, she struggled to her feet. Her entire body protested each movement, but Charlie fought through the pain and staggered to the nearest wall.

She stood on weak legs, breathing slowly, and pressed her shoulder to the wall, completely focused on staying upright. She stayed there for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes. Finally, the thumping in her skull ebbed to a dull throb and the triple vision cleared to a muzzy, but coherent, single sight.

“Now what?” Charlie looked around the dimly lit space. A wooden door faced her, but she didn’t see any handle or knob. “Great.”

From outside she heard voices speaking, though she couldn’t make out the words. The rapidity of the speakers’ cadence reminded her of Spanish. Having grown up in New Mexico, and despite the situation she was in, the sound of the language comforted her.

The earthen room blocked out the dialogue. Thinking the door might offer better eavesdropping, Charlie straightened from the wall and made her way toward it. Getting there took all the strength she’d mustered and she slipped to the floor beside the rickety entrance. The voices outside weren’t much clearer, but the depth of the tones suggested the speakers were probably male. She caught a word here or there, but three she heard distinctly gave her hope. Rio Orinoco and transportamos. The first words signified the Orinoco River, in northeast Venezuela, and the second suggested they were transporting something.

“Probably me.” Knowing where she was gave Charlie a sense of control. She’d never been to continental Venezuela, but she’d enjoyed the islands off the coast more than once.

She forced her sore brain to think about her college geography. The Orinoco River was one of the longest in South America. Her memory wasn’t the best, but she hoped they were in the Lower Orinoco, near the delta and the Atlantic Ocean. Based on the humidity, it was quite likely. It was possible she was somewhere in the plentiful mangrove forests, the swamps, of the country.

Charlie held onto her hope. Even if she were in the middle of a swamp, she’d rather escape and take her chances with Mother Nature than stay here and wait. Tensions between the States and Venezuela hadn’t been the best for more than twenty years. However, a lot of the country was urbanized. If she could escape, and make her way out of the jungle, if that’s where she was, she had a good chance of getting home.

The voices outside grew louder, approaching footsteps launching her heart into her throat. She couldn’t afford to let her captors know she was awake. Without thinking, Charlie scrabbled away from the door, flopping onto the floor and closing her eyes. Something scraped against the wood and the door opened.

Though her blood pounded, Charlie stilled her breathing to soft, shallow expulsions and inhalations. She rolled her eyes beneath her lids, the action stilling any fluttering that might give away her cognizant state. The footsteps moved closer and she felt a hard, round object pressing into her back. She didn’t react and her visitor shoved at her deeper.

When she remained unresponsive, he must have been satisfied. With a grunt, he shuffled away, the sound of rubber soles on dirt sending relief surging through her body. The door closed with a squeak and a thump and Charlie had to stifle a sob. She had no doubt the man had nudged her with a gun.

“What have you done, Dad?” Anger at her father gave her strength, but Charlie couldn’t sustain it. She needed to formulate a plan of escape. Whether her father was involved or not, Charlie knew it was up to her to get free. Waiting on the US government for a rescue wasn’t an option.

She got up slowly and crawled back to the door. She pressed her ear to it, listening, learning. More and more words became clear, and Charlie felt the beginnings of a plan form.

 

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“…and I — I took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

-The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

The last line from award-winning author Emma Ray’s favorite poem pretty much sums up her life. Her tendency to do her own thing is what her friends and family love best, and least, about her. Chaos is a constant in the Garrett home, which currently houses her intelligent, energetic children, a devoted husband, a very large, very lazy, white tom-cat, a very crazy, very small black cat, and a very happy, very healthy rescue pooch — who’s black and white.

Other books by Emma Ray Garrett

 

#NewRelease TALES OF MOONSPELL #menage #shifter #vampire #threesome #RomanceBooks #EroticRomance #PNR @changelingpress

Tales of Moonspell (Moonspell Vol. 1) by Jessica Coulter  Smith

Four women find the mates of their hearts as wolves battle vampires for control of Moonspell.

Belonging to Hayden: Daniela has been captured by the local vampire nest in her small hometown. The last thing she expects to find at the mansion is the Alpha werewolf of her dreams.

Between Two Wolves: Falan has lots of curves, and a little extra. She’s never been anyone’s ideal before. Now she’s suddenly faced with not one but two hot men ready to be at her beck and call. Can she be woman enough for both of them?

Serenity’s Wish: When Serenity surrenders to the local vampire nest in order to save the alpha werewolf’s mate, she knows it won’t be long before her body betrays her and gives up the battle she’s been fighting for months. But there’s one thing Serenity doesn’t count on. How is it possible that she’s falling for the enemy?

Their Sinful Seduction: Sin finds herself pregnant and alone after a single night of passion. The two men responsible made it quite clear they aren’t ready for fatherhood. But once the werewolves find out she’s expecting their child, they’ll stop at nothing to claim the woman destined to be their mate.

Publisher’s Note: Tales of Moonspell (Box Set) contains the previously published novellas Belonging to Hayden, Between Two Wolves, Serenity’s Wish, and Their Sinful Seduction.

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EXCERPT FROM BELONGING TO HAYDEN

Impenetrable darkness surrounded her, the air was dank and musty, and the plink of water dripping was the only sound in her tomblike space. She felt dirty from sitting on the cold, stone floor for God only knew how long. Thick, heavy manacles encircled her wrists; a chain was looped through them and fastened to the wall. Her mouth felt like cotton and her head was throbbing. She had little doubt she’d been drugged. The question was why? And where the hell was she?

Terror gripped her as possible scenarios bounced around her mind, none of them good. She’d only been awake for what felt like an hour or two, but she hadn’t heard or seen anyone in all that time. As far as she knew, she was alone. Her captors were obviously elsewhere in the building.

A door creaked open and light spilled into the space, casting everything into shadow. What was illuminated scared her. She was in a cage, not unlike the many other cages lining the walls. It looked like she was in a basement, but that still didn’t tell her where she was. The last thing she remembered was having drinks with her friends at the local club. Moonspell being so small, one human club was all they had.

Light footsteps descended the stairs and a tall, thin man came into view, illuminated by a shaft of light. His long, silvery white hair shimmered even in the darkened room, his pale skin glowed like a beacon, and ice blue eyes pierced right through her as he pinned her with his gaze.

He unlocked her cage and roughly pulled her to her feet. Removing her chains, he gripped her arm firmly and began leading her out of the cell and up the stairs. The bright light hurt her eyes, and she squinted at her surroundings. Plush oriental rugs covered gleaming hardwood floors, the furniture looked like something out of an antiques catalog, and the paint on the walls was varying shades of blue.

The man dragged her up a large curved staircase to the second floor and down a long hallway. Pushing open a door at the far end, he shoved her inside. He shifted his grip and pulled her across the room and through another doorway into an opulent bathroom. After opening the glass door on the shower, he turned it on and steam started billowing out almost immediately.

“Strip,” he commanded.

Her eyes widened and she clutched her shirt together at her throat. He wanted her to undress in front of him? She took a step back as if to flee, but she had nowhere to go. He’d closed the door behind them. And even if she did manage to make it through the door, she had no doubt he would catch her before she could reach the stairs.

His eyes narrowed. “I said strip,” he growled. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

She squeaked and took another step backward.

Advancing on her, he gripped her shirt in both hands and ripped it apart, sending buttons flying everywhere. He tugged the material down her arms and tossed it on the floor. Reaching for the button on her jeans, he unfastened them quickly and jerked them down her legs. She tried to pull away from him, but he held her tight as he finished stripping away her clothes. Lifting her into his arms, he set her down in the shower.

“Wash yourself.”

With shaking hands, she did as he commanded. As the dirt washed down the drain, she should have felt better, but all she felt was stark terror at what might be about to happen to her. He seemed so calm and cool, so very in control.

The man turned off the water and held out a towel, wrapping it around her as she stepped out of the shower. He helped her dry off, then slipped a skimpy satin nightgown over her head. The stark white material clung to her slim curves. He handed her a comb, and she pulled it through the long, black, curly locks. When she was finished, she set the comb down on the counter and faced her captor.

He pulled her back into the bedroom, but they were no longer alone. A tall, dark-haired man lounged on the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of unbuttoned jeans. There was a hint of silver at his temples, but it only enhanced his good looks. His arms and chest were heavily muscled, his legs long. He watched her intently, but unlike the man holding her prisoner, this one didn’t terrify her. His gaze skimmed over her, caressing her. His eyes narrowed when he saw the man’s hand clamped on her arm.

A growl rumbled from him. “Release her.”

She was suddenly free, yet she still had nowhere to go.

The man beside her moved toward the door. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours, dog.”

Dog? As in… No, he couldn’t possibly mean the other man was a werewolf! It was no secret that there was a werewolf pack in Moonspell. She wasn’t sure if she had anything to fear from him or not.

The werewolf rose from the bed and came toward her. He circled her, checking her out from every angle. Stopping behind her, he leaned in close and sniffed her neck. She heard a low growl rumble in his chest right before he kissed the sensitive skin below her ear. He placed his hands on her waist and addressed the man again.

“You’ll give me longer than twenty-four hours. No one else will touch her.”

The man hissed, showing a set of very sharp fangs. She gulped as she realized she’d been in the presence of a vampire this entire time. He could have drained her at any moment, and she’d have been powerless to stop him.

“You forget your place. You may be an alpha, but here you’re just a prisoner. Aiden has a thing for dark-haired women. She’ll service him tomorrow night.”

“No! She’s my mate and will bed no one but me.”

The vampire looked surprised. “Your mate? You’ll have to pardon me for not taking your word for it. I’ll need proof.”

“You know there’s only one way I can prove it. After we sleep together, we’ll be marked.”

“Very well. I’ll give you a week. After that, you lose the opportunity to be free.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith has been in love with the written word since she was a child writing her first stories in crayon. Today she’s a multi-published author of over seventy-five novellas and novels. Romance is an integral part of her world and she firmly believes that love will find you at the right time, even if Mr. Right is literally out of this world.

Find Jessica on Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / jessicacoultersmith.com.

Harley Wylde is the “wilder” side of award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith. You can find Harley online at harleywylde.com. Jessica also writes gay romance under the pen name Dulce Dennison.