Dawg Town: Mad Dawg by Tuesday Richards

Dawg Town: Mad Dawg
by Tuesday Richards

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-252-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Ménage, Shapeshifters
Series: Dawg Town
Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1186

Blurb:

Bryce's bad day in Barkus, Kansas, starts when he dodges a prairie dog and lays down his most prized possession: Midnight. Can his day get any worse? Mad Dawg's about to find out.


Dolly Madison's car breaks down a mile outside of town. She walks into the closest building where opportunity knocks on the wooden bar.


What secrets does Barkus, Kansas, hold when the cute and cuddly are among the residents?







Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"Couldn't have been a comfortable walk in those shoes." The country God spoke with a sensually deep voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I walked from the parking lot." Dolly snarled out the lie. She'd scuffed her favorite shoes. One heel was loose and would need to be repaired.
"The only reason a lady like you would walk into a joint like this is if you had car trouble and had to walk." He took a swig of his beer before he continued. "If you're here of your own accord, with a car parked out front, then you got more brass than anybody here."
Bucky sat another longneck in front of the man with heavenly blue eyes and short brown hair that begged to be touched. "Mad Dawg, leave the lady alone." He turned back to Dolly. "Don't worry about him. He's just upset 'cause his best girl was in an accident today." Bucky's attention was called away when six other men hit the bar bellowing drink orders.
"I'm sorry to hear about your… girl. She's in my thoughts."
"Thanks, Dolly," Mad Dawg muttered through his beer bottle.
Bucky was again front and center with a stressed crease in his forehead. "Man, I wish I could get decent help in this place."
The comment caught her attention. I couldn't be this lucky. "Bucky, I can help. I'm a trained bartender."
He seemed skeptical -- it could have been the raised eyebrow that gave it away. "No offense, Dolly dear, but what could you know about tendin' a biker bar?"
With a smirk, she unzipped her Vera Bradley purse, pulled out credentials, and slid them across the bar. "I'll admit, not much about biker bars. However, I am certified."
Bucky let out a slow whistle. "Good school. Prove it."
She slid off the wooden stool, stepped around the counter, put her purse in a cubby, and grabbed a bar towel. Dolly pushed an end of the folded cloth into her back pocket, thanking Liz Claiborne for the thick-heeled collection this year, and reached for a tumbler. "Did I hear a few of you call for a whiskey sour?" she yelled over the buzz of people. Three people raised their hands from the end of the bar. "Comin' right up."
Dolly grabbed three highball glasses from the rack and lined them up on the bar. She dropped some ice in the tumbler, and with a couple of flips of the whiskey bottle she did a nine-count pour into the steel cup. A flick of the wrist had the bottle back on the shelf and the sour mix in hand. Filling the tumbler the rest of the way, she slid the sour bottle down her arm into the well and at the same time put the top on the tumbler. With a few shakes and a flip, she poured the drinks, tossed the tumbler in the sink, and slid the glasses down the bar, where they stopped in front of the patrons who ordered them.
She heard six beer orders shouted. Dolly reached into the cooler, grabbed six longnecks, and flipped them one by one over her head, catching them one at a time and popping the cap off the bottle on the edge of the bar. She filled the orders one by one in a single line down the counter.
The bar fell silent with the last of the orders filled in record time. She cleaned her hands on the bar towel from her pocket, swiped the counter quickly, and washed the tumbler. Dolly walked by Bucky on her way from behind the bar and pushed his jaw closed.
With a gulp, he choked out, "You're hired. Get back behind this bar." He took one side of the bar, and she stayed close to Mad Dawg the sex God, serving the other half.
"Hot damn, there's a new sheriff in town, ladies. Hold on to your man," a blonde biker babe in the back shouted over the commotion.
Dolly looked at Mad Dawg. "Is that a good thing, or should I worry?"

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1186

Dawgtown: Homecoming by Selena Illyria

Dawg Town: Homecoming
by Selena Illyria

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-220-3
Genre(s): Paranormal, Humor & Satire
Theme(s): Interracial, Werewolves, Shapeshifters
Series: Dawg Town
Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1185

Blurb:

Cat shifter Alina Bloome has been gone from Barkus for five years. Now she's back and her childhood crush has declared her his. Still hurting from his rejection before she left, she's decided he's going to have to work very hard to get her. Handcuffs wouldn't hurt either.


Werewolf and honorary member of the Prairie Dawgs Taylor MacKeller has been biding his time, waiting for Alina to come of age and come home. Now that she's back in town, she's his for the taking and he's got the handcuffs to help in his task.


Excerpt:
He heard the squeak of the screen door opening and looked toward the porch.
“You going to sit there all night or come say hello?”
He grinned at her sass; he had missed that so much. “I'll say hello when I'm damn good and ready. Why don't you come down here and greet me?”
“That would mean punching you and I'm a lady. I don't do shit like that.”
His eyebrow rose.
“Move your ass; dinner is getting cold.” She turned and walked back into the house.
His body hummed with need as her words played on a loop in his head. Taylor knew he had his work cut out for him. He just hadn't counted on her being so pissed with him. He turned off the bike and strode to the house. Once inside memories started to assault him, from the moments where he had tutored in math, to her birthday parties, to the last time he had spoken to her before she had left town. His hands clenched as determination shuddered through him. $Mine, the wolf inside of him growled. He couldn't agree more.
“You can sit down. You wolves know how to do that right?” she called from the kitchen.
He chuckled and headed to the dining room where he sat down at the table and looked down at his plate. Barbequed steak, smothered in BBQ sauce and mashed potato were piled high on his plate. His stomach rumbled. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was. Before hitting the bar he'd grabbed a really late lunch. The sheriff was working everyone hard over the drug smuggling case and trying to play keep away from the reporter that had come to town snooping around.
Alina coming home couldn't have come at a better time. He'd needed a distraction badly. Footsteps coming toward the table heralded her joining him. Taylor looked up and his breath caught in his throat. She really had grown up. His gaze traveled over her body, taking her in from head to toe.
She wore figure-hugging sweats that showed off her wide hips and high pert breasts. His cock twitched and he groaned silently. Her hair hung loosely in waves over her shoulders and her face was free of makeup, showing off her natural beauty. He wanted to take her face in his hands and kiss her plush, full lips, suck her tongue into his mouth and taste her.
“What are you staring at?” She placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head to the side.
“You look gorgeous,” he blurted out and then groaned. He was losing control, fast.
She rolled her eyes and walked over to the table. “Whatever, let's eat.”
“Don't dismiss my compliment. I mean it.”
She sat down and didn't look at him.
“Ali…”
She cut him off, “Don't, okay? Just don't. It still hurts.”
The softness of her voice, made his heart hurt. He could hear the pain laced in her words and knew he had a lot to make up for.


http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1185

Sundown International Collection by Cat Marsters

Sundown International (Collection)
by Cat Marsters

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-171-8
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Collections
Theme(s): Interracial, Ménage, Vampires, Werewolves, Shapeshifters, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: Sundown, Inc.
Length: Collection

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1175

Blurb:

When Reaver finds a girl so shocked by demon possession she can't speak, he doesn't expect her to be the best demon fighter he's ever seen. But before he can give in to what he never knew he needed, he's got to figure out who she is... and why the hell he wants her so much.

Sofie's trying to solve a vampire murder. Problem. Her new partner's utterly irresistible, but he asks far too many questions. Finn can't help noticing for someone who doesn't believe in the paranormal, Sofie goes to extraordinary lengths to avoid full moons, silver, and any mention of lone wolves.

When Paige wakes up with the worst love-bite of her life, there's only one person she can turn to for help -- her old friend Jamie. Rafael's never been shy about taking what he wants, and right now, Rafael wants Paige -- and Jamie, too.

For Chloe, human interaction is an absolute disaster. It's tough to form a meaningful relationship when you have the dating skills of a praying mantis. Alexius is about to find out when a siren says you look good enough to eat, she's really not joking... Fortunately, Alexius has a few tricks of his own up his family tree.

Sundown Investigations -- where all our operatives give every case that extra personal touch.

This collection includes the previously released novellas Never Leave Me, Duty and the Beast, Unholy Trinity, and Maneater.

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

The girl lay still on the ground, her face and hands bloody, her dress torn. Nearby sprawled the dead priest, his crucifix half an inch from the hole where his heart used to be.The demon was nowhere to be seen.Reaver knew they never inhabited dead bodies. Which was why it was often his job to kill the demon host. The priest was clearly dead, and therefore no danger -- but the girl… the girl could be a problem.No. Not a problem. A challenge.Light rain fell in the clearing as Reaver ripped the crucifix from the dead priest’s chest, nodding a silent apology to the man, and approached the girl.She was tiny, barely more than a teenager by his guess. Her body was slim, the fabric of her pretty summer dress damp and clinging to toned curves. Her feet were bare. Her hair was long, dark, and tangled over her face, mixing with the blood, obscuring her features.She was very, very still.If she was dead, he was safe. Well, safe from the demon, anyway. The local authorities probably wouldn’t be too keen on finding him here like this with two bloody bodies.But if she was alive, then the demon could still be in her. The clearing reeked with the rotten stench of sulfur, and the crackle of demon energy prickled against his skin. The familiar nausea washed over him. Bloody demons.Reaver stood over her, looked down at the pale, exposed flesh of her throat, and held the crucifix ready to press against her skin. The holy symbol of a holy man, invested with belief, ought to burn the flesh of a demonic host.He brought the cross down.So quickly he couldn’t even see the movement, her hand grabbed his wrist and her eyes slammed open, staring right at him through her tangle of hair.“Hey, chica,” Reaver said, his voice loud in the silence. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”She stared at him, her dark eyes frightened and fierce all at the same time. Her breath came in shallow gasps.He repeated his words in Spanish. Then in French, for good measure. Still she stared at him, her gaze darting left to right, between his eyes. He made ready to let the crucifix drop onto her skin. One hand tightened on his gun.A sudden flash of reflection was the only warning he had before she brought a knife up -- where the fuck had she hidden that? -- and aimed it at his gun hand.For a long second he stared at her, eyeball to eyeball. She didn’t blink.He let the cross drop.Her knife dug into his hand, but her skin didn’t sizzle, and when he didn’t move to shoot her, she relented. A little.“You’re not a demon,” Reaver said.She stared at him.“So I’m not gonna kill you.”She said nothing.“So would you mind taking that knife the fuck away from me?”Slowly, very slowly, she lowered the knife. Apparently she understood him. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. Either way, Reaver holstered his gun and held his hand out to pull her to her feet. She took it, hesitantly, her eyes huge and terrified. But there was something behind the terror. A quiet sort of strength. Strange and intriguing.She was beautiful.She clung to his hand as she stood, her grip strong. Her skin was pale, the dark streaks of blood making her whiter still. Her features were fine, delicate, big eyes and high cheekbones. She had a pouty, down-turned mouth with a very full lower lip that did interesting things to Reaver’s libido. Her eyes darted about, hardly settling on anything, but he knew when she saw the dead priest. Her grip tightened to the point of pain.“Easy, chica,” Reaver murmured. “I’ll take care of you.”

She turned those big, silent eyes on him, and he had the feeling she’d understood and taken to heart each word he’d just said.





http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1175

Virtual Attraction by Kira Stone

Virtual Attraction
by Kira Stone

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-258-6
Genre(s): The Fetish Club
Theme(s): Interracial, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1176

Blurb:

Five stories of passion beyond the Virtual World...

Out_Houses.com. The hottest gay-owned interior design business in Northern California. When Paul joins the owners, Alex and Toby, at their secluded cabin, it's supposed to be a chance for them to work away from the distractions of the office. Instead Paul finds himself more distracted than ever -- and wanting to join in the fun.

Jaydin and Rufus have been together for months -- in VR. Today, for the first time, they are going to meet in real life. But sex in real life is a lot different than it is in the virtual world. No pose balls to jump on, no buttons to click. Just him and Rufus, and a first kiss that'll make for another sort of reality...

Andy is late for a very important date -- with Toby, one of the owners of Out Houses. Toby doesn't like to be kept waiting and decides to teach Andy a lesson by giving him a spanking. Not the traditional way to start an interview, but at Out Houses, anything goes.

A sea-side pier -- the perfect setting for romance. When Kyler's plans for seduction are thwarted, he turns to the Virtual World for assistance. He's planned an evening his lover will never forget.

Alex and Toby are great fun, but Paul wants a man of his own. Not just any man -- he's got his sights set on Andy. Which would be fine, except Andy's not looking his way. Is he?

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

“Fuck me.” There was a startled gasp, then, “Harder!”

“You want it bad, don’t you?”

The sounds of slapping flesh accompanied the masculine voices emanating from the other side of the bedroom wall. Paul groaned and rolled over. His hard-on stabbed the mattress and he groaned again, this time from pain. It was gonna be a long, exhausting week if he had to listen to his bosses, the owners of Out-Houses -- the newest, hottest gay interior designer company in Northern California -- get it on in the living room every night.Especially given his recent, secret aspiration of becoming the meat in their cum sandwich.“Oh, yeah. Just like that. Don’t stop.”Must be Alex doing the begging, the little slut. Paul pictured him on his knees, his fine caramel colored ass in the air. Desperate for what satisfaction only his partner could give him.Toby’s deep bass rumbled in response. “Heh. No worries there.”“Oh, fuck. More. More!”Placing a pillow over his head didn’t help stifle the erotic noises coming from the nearby room. If he had to hear it, then Paul wanted to see it. Feel it. Be fully engaged in the action. Eavesdropping was a poor substitute for sating carnal lust. Last night he’d been jet-lagged enough to fall asleep. A drag queen in full voice wouldn’t have woken him. However, after spending the day shoulder to shoulder with his gorgeous employers, hunched over a work table studying a ream of concept drawings for a gay-oriented housing project, pinned between their two rock solid bodies…Damn. Rock solid. Just like his cock.He was never going to get to sleep as long as he had to listen to them fuck.Paul tossed off the sheet covering him and slipped out through the sliding glass doors onto the balcony overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He didn’t bother to dress. Dense shrubs on either side of the isolated beach house created a privacy screen from anyone walking along the cliffs. The only people he was likely to encounter were otherwise… engaged.Two long flights of stairs descended from the deck to meet a short expanse of pristine white sand. Paul didn’t feel comfortable going near the water, in part because walking around in the dark in a strange, wild area had “potentially fatal” written all over it, but also because it took him farther away from where he really wanted to be. Inside. In the living room. On his knees. Sucking Alex’s cock while Toby pounded into him from behind.Like that’s going to happen. Face it, Paulie, you may be ready, willing and able to bat for the home team, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get a chance to play in this ballpark.Paul lifted his face to the ocean breeze, trying to clear his mind. He failed, miserably. No matter what lust-killing thoughts he injected into his brain, his libido returned him to the action inside. Toby’s large frame, black skin over corded muscle, wrapped around Alex’s lithe Latino body. Fucking like bunnies.If it were just about the sex, he might have stood a chance at stemming this hormonal rampage, but Paul admired their internal qualities too. Both had high IQs and more ambition than a rookie Triple-A player after a spot on a major league bench. They were risk takers. Adrenaline junkies. And it was a good thing, because it would take as much guts as money to make their fledgling company, Out-Houses, a success.But if anyone could do it, Toby and Alex were capable of pulling it off. Paul wasn’t sure how these two alpha males managed to work together so well, or how long their partnership, in and out of bed, could last. Meeting them through their website had been a fluke when Paul needed help with his bathroom plumbing. They’d needed an architect though, and he was ready for a change in jobs. However, the youth of their business and their relationship made signing on with them a gamble. If they broke up, chances were the company wouldn’t survive. Paul chose to take the risk with them. It was hard to walk away from a dream job.And his dream of joining Alex and Toby during one of their lunchtime quickies.Paul relaxed against the balcony rail. Moonlight spilled over his milk white skin, giving it a silvery sheen. He ran his hand down his chest, following the thin arrow of reddish-blond hair to his cock. In order to get any sleep at all, he’d have to appease his woodie sooner or later. Might as well be now.But not quickly. Not something that would be over and forgotten in a minute like a quick jerk-off during a morning shower. Paul wanted to treat himself to something special. Something he’d remember for a long time to make up for the erotic ménage memories he’d have to live without.A few moments of deep thought produced a workable plan. He was no Olympic athlete, but he had flexibility and balance. Therefore, it was no big deal to put one leg over the rail, his thigh resting on the weather-beaten wood so his balls and asshole were exposed to the night air. He massaged his sac with one hand and pumped his rapidly hardening dick with the other.Paul had plenty of fantasy material, courtesy of his employers. Toby’s long, thick boner jutting out from between his legs, ready for action. Alex’s muscular ass being stretched wide, waiting to be fucked. How Paul would love to be the middle man, plunging his tongue into Alex’s tight hole while Toby stuffed him completely from behind.His imaginings were potent, nearly as good as being there. Or so he tried to fool himself into believing. It worked pretty well. His body was halfway to heaven already. Pre-cum leaked from his slit, leaving a thin, sticky trail across the plump head. Paul paused to bring a taste of that salty fluid to his lips. He pretended it belonged to one of his bosses as he lapped it up. “Mmm. Hot jiz.”Returning to his pulsing erection, he ran a finger around the head of his cock, spreading the sticky stuff around. Sometimes Paul dreamed of being fucked hard and fast. Sometimes slow and romantic. This time he wanted it all. A gradual buildup of passion until he hovered on the edge of orgasm, then fast, deep thrusts to drive him over it. Too bad he didn’t have another pair of hands -- or cocks -- to help him get there…

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1176

How I Keep Busy

http://espan-rwa.com/

I just blogged about e-publisher investment in their authors at ESPAN today.

And for those in the area, I will be at the Hyattsville Branch of the Prince
George's County Library in Maryland from 2-4 tomorrow. Janet Mullany, Michelle
Monkou and I will be talking about "The Business of Romance." There will be a booksigning
afterward. I have the Desire Island anthology from Changeling Press.

Treva Harte
www.trevaharte.com

Mate Marks: Thirst by Kate Hill

Mate Marks: Thirst
by Kate Hill

Cover art by Sahara Kelly
ISBN: 978-1-60521-133-6
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Interracial, Vampires
Series: Mate Marks
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1174

Blurb:

While unpacking antiques belonging to Arias del Rio, a little known explorer, museum curator Malika Carter Young is stunned to discover a Spanish vampire in a sarcophagus. He's arrogant, gorgeous, and his fangs are an exact fit to the birthmarks on her breast.
Shamed by the greed and violence of his mortal life, Arias del Rio has spent his centuries as a vampire atoning for his sins. After years of loneliness, he has finally found his destined mate, but an enemy from his past has returned and intends to destroy everything Arias loves, beginning with Malika.

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.In a time before recorded history, some with otherworldly powers mastered a spell that guided destined mates to each other. Though few can now wield this ancient power, some masters of the art still exist. Those bound by mate marks cannot resist their magical pull, but the marks can only bind souls that are meant to be joined.The South of Spain, 1790Arias’ gaze traveled over the lush, pale breasts of the woman sprawled unconscious beside him on the bed. He sighed, propping himself on his elbow and thinking how strange it was that he had absolutely no desire to touch her.The taste of her blood still lingered on his tongue. Its bittersweet warmth coursed through him, yet it didn’t provide the sensation it once had.He rolled onto his back and stared at the painted ceiling. At one time nothing compared to the rush of blood drinking and lovemaking. Now the former was something he did merely to survive, and the latter was a mild diversion when he got the urge.Someone tapped on the door and Arias said, “Come in, Diego.”Diego stepped into the room and approached the bed. A short, slight man whose large amber eyes missed nothing, Diego was Arias’ oldest companion and the only person he’d ever fully trusted.“Will she be staying for the night?” Diego asked, glancing at the woman. He spoke in his usual reserved tone, his face calm and passive, but Arias didn’t miss the desire in his eyes.Diego loved women, but they scarcely gave him a second look. For centuries, Arias had told him that attracting women was more in a man’s attitude than in his appearance, but Diego couldn’t seem to overcome his shyness.“No.” Arias sighed, not even bothering to look at his luscious, dark-haired bedmate.“I’ll return her to the village before anyone realizes she’s missing. There’s already enough talk about you. If you’re not careful, the same thing will happen here as in Seville.”“I don’t look for them, Diego. They come to me.”The servant raised his eyes to the heavens. “Don’t brag to me. Other than covering our tracks, I have no interest in your conquests.”“What conquests?” Arias rose, naked, from the bed. He strode to the window, pushed aside the heavy black drapes and gazed at the moonlit countryside. “I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I’m tired of this life. Women either flee from me in terror or throw themselves at my feet.”“Why should you complain? They always flee from me in terror.”Arias gave a snort of laughter and turned to Diego who sat on the edge of the bed, his hungry gaze lingering on the woman. His licked his lips then parted them, exposing the tips of his sharp little fangs. Drawing a long, slow breath, he lifted his hand, letting it hover over her breasts.Arias’ brow furrowed. He almost wished that for once in his life Diego would take what he wanted without hesitation or guilt. The servant’s hand curled into a fist, and he lowered it onto his lap without touching the object of his desire.“I always thought this was the life I wanted. No connections or responsibilities. The power to chase my passions without consequence,” Arias said.“For someone like you, that’s what the blood-drinking gift can be.”Arias closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. “It can be that way for anyone who knows how to manipulate others.”Diego glanced over his shoulder at him, his gaze sweeping Arias from head to toe. “You don’t manipulate them, Arias. In all the years we’ve known each other, you’ve never forced a woman or harmed anyone without good reason. You don’t have to manipulate. One look in your eyes and women want you.”“They don’t want me. They want excitement. They want the forbidden, to be ravished by a fiend.”“A handsome fiend.”“I’ve told you time and again, appearance has nothing to do with it.”Diego curled his lip and turned back to the woman. “Do you think she’d have come to me as easily as she came to you?”“Did you ask her?”“I gave up self-torture in the early 1700s.”“You were insane.”“I don’t mock your fetishes, and believe me there’s been much to laugh at over the years.”A smile tugged at Arias’ lips. He couldn’t argue with that. To alleviate boredom he’d tried all sort of sexual antics. Nothing or no one kept his attention for long. It was what made him an exceptional vampire, his ability to change and adapt. He never stayed with a partner long enough to form an emotional attachment. Only recently had he started to realize that maybe he’d been wasting centuries by depriving himself of a soulmate.Yet was he capable of forming such an attachment, or would attempting to do so be the most selfish act of his life? What if, after so many years, he was no longer capable of love? Had he ever been?It was a cosmic joke that he, a man who had no problem luring partners, had little capacity for love, while a man like Diego, who would give his heart and soul to a companion, had no powers of seduction.Maybe it had nothing to do with them at all. Perhaps it was a matter of neither having found the right woman.Even a decade ago, the thought of a permanent partner would have made Arias cringe. Now the idea of spending the rest of his life shifting from woman to woman made him feel older and lonelier than ever before.“Just a taste, Arias,” Diego said, his voice scarcely a whisper.Usually Diego slaked his thirst among prostitutes. Not that he was attracted to them, but he didn’t believe in forcing his bite, so he paid for the privilege. Such a gentle soul. Those stupid, superficial women didn’t deserve him.Arias came to stand behind Diego. He draped an arm over his shoulder and held his wrist inches from the servant’s mouth.Diego grasped his forearm and Arias felt a slight pinch as his friend’s fangs slipped into his flesh. Arias’ blood, laced with the flavor of the woman’s, flowed into Diego’s mouth.When the servant finished drinking, Arias licked the wound on his arm before it faded completely.Sighing, Diego picked up the woman and headed for the door.“When you return, there’s something important we need to discuss,” Arias said.Diego paused, keeping his back to Arias, and nodded.Once he and the woman had gone, Arias bathed in the lake outside the mansion. He glanced at the rolling meadows and the forest in the distance. Most of this land belonged to him, and he loved it. Yet even the beauty of this place no longer pleased him as much as it once did. He longed for someone to share it with. Yes, he had Diego, but a male companion wasn’t the same as a woman. No matter how much he cared for Diego, there were some things he could never share with him. Some male blood drinkers took pleasure in the blood and flesh of men, but Arias had never developed a taste for it. He lived and breathed women.He loved soft breasts, fleshy backsides, and warm, smooth thighs. He liked the taste of feminine lips and the delicate sounds they made when he drank their blood and thrust his cock into their hot, wet cunts. Of late the mere acts of biting and fucking hadn’t been enough. He wondered what it was like to enjoy a woman in bed and out. How did it feel to have someone who would be content to rest in his arms and share not only his body, but his thoughts?He stepped out of the water, toweled off his hair and dried his body, then returned to the house and dressed quickly. He walked to the parlor, lit a fire in the hearth and sat on the high-backed wooden chair across from it.

It had taken him a long time to grow up. Over three hundred years in fact, but he finally realized he could no longer go on like this.






http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1174

Koffe with Cream by Brenda Bryce

Koffe with Cream
by Brenda Bryce

Cover art by Kassie Thrace
ISBN: 978-1-60521-255-5
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1158

Blurb:

After moving to a strange town for a new job, the last thing Koffe Collins expected was to be fired. While drowning his sorrows in the café, things start to look up when he's approached by a golden god of a man and offered a job.
Unable to refuse the offer, Koffe finds himself not only working for Leo Deets, but also craving more than friendship with him. Can they manage a meaningful relationship while his former employers are doing everything in their power to discredit him? And what kind of secret is Leo keeping from him?
Koffe hopes he is brave enough to find out, and that the forces in play won't break his heart.






Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Koffe Collins stared gloomily down into his cooling black coffee.

“Need topping off, sweetie?”

Looking up, Koffe saw the waitress hovering over him with the coffeepot. “Yes, please.”

It was a busy Saturday morning and Koffe spent several minutes gazing around the dining room. An argument broke out at a table of older gentlemen about the size of a fish one of the men supposedly caught last summer.

Koffe smiled at their antics, but it soon fell from his face as he returned his attention to his cup. What was he going to do? He ran a hand through his long, black hair and sighed.

It fucking sucked being fired from a job you could barely tolerate because the boss’s daughter wouldn’t take the fucking hint that women weren’t your bag. But no, the bitch had run to daddy and accused him of hitting the till. He’d never stolen a thing in his life, but here he was, out on his ass. He’d have to find another job soon, before his former boss put out the word on him.She’d told him she’d fix him for not sleeping with her. Well, she did. “Stupid cunt, as if I woulda slept with her anyway. I’m freaking gay for Christ’s sake.”

“That’s good to know.”Koffe’s gaze shot up to the person who stood next to his table. The man towered over him like a golden god. Golden yellow hair spilled over his shoulders and golden tan-hued skin covered his face and bare arms. Even his eyes and mustache had gold in them.

Involuntarily, his attention dropped from the man’s face to his broad shoulders and flannel shirt-covered chest. A big, barrel-shaped chest. It tapered down into a small waist and narrow hips and long, long legs covered in tight denim jeans. The pointy-toed cowboy boots looked well used and were probably very comfortable. Perfect was the word leaping into Koffe’s mind.

Koffe was tanned, but it was the toasted bread brown of being out in the sun all the time, while this man had a lighter, more sun-kissed color of honey. Wondering what his own darker-hued skin would look like brushing against all that gold, Koffe nearly groaned. He agonized over what the man’s skin would taste like.

Still caught in the spell of the stranger, Koffe’s gaze traveled back up the man’s legs and got trapped by the bulge growing behind the already straining zipper.

A deep chuckle jerked him out of his lust-induced stupor and he flushed as his gaze jumped back to the yellow-brown, twinkling eyes.“Is this seat taken?”

Come on, Collins, snap out of it. His teeth clicked together when he closed his mouth and managed to shake his head no.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the golden man asked him as he raised his hand to the waitress. “Coffee, please.”

“Sure thing, sugar.” The waitress returned and headed their way with the pot.

Koffe frowned. “Moved to the area about a month ago. How could you tell?”The man opened and poured three creamers into his cup, stirred it lightly, and lifted the cup to his lips, blowing on it while contemplating him. “Because you didn’t know about Kimmy James. That’s where you were working, right? The James’ place?”

When Koffe nodded, the man continued. “Everyone except her daddy knows she does all the men who come through the feed store. If they put out, they can continue working. If not, they get shafted. It’s why they import their labor. And why there’s such a huge turnover rate.”

“Sure wish I’d known before I took the job.”

“I bet you do.”

They shared a quiet moment as they drank their coffee. After a few minutes the man put his cup down and took a deep breath. “All right.” Putting his palms flat on the table, he seemed to have come to a hard-won decision. “My name’s Leo Deets and I own the parts store just outside of town. I’ve got a position open and I wonder if you’d like to fill it.”Quietly, he lifted his cup and took another sip while Koffe stared at him, mouth agape.

“A job? But you don’t even know me.” Not to mention, he’d been fired for stealing.

“Don’t need to know you. If I know Miss James, and I do, you won’t get a recommendation from them. What did she do? Say you tried to rape her?” Leo’s eyes glinted with anger and his features hardened.

“Nope, theft.”

Leo shook his head. “Doesn’t surprise me at all. She’ll say anything to get what she wants. Kimmy James makes it difficult for those of us who bat for the same team and don’t want to play ball with anyone who has low testosterone levels.”

Koffe stared at Leo in stunned silence, then burst out laughing, garnering the attention of several diners. Leaning forward, Koffe shook his head. “I’d like the job, but I don’t know if I should take it.”

“Why?” Leo’s eyelids slid to half-mast as the men stared at each other.

“Well, because if I did, I’d want to take up baseball and round the bases with you.”





http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1158

Dawgtown is Coming!

Can you hear the thunder? Can you feel the rumble? No, it's not an earthquake or a thunderstorm.

It's Dawgtown, coming VERY SOON to Changeling Press.

What secrets does Barkus, Kansas, hold when the cute and cuddly are among the residents?

Wait for it...

Unicorn Valley Collection by Lena Austin

Unicorn Valley (Collection)
by Lena Austin

Cover art by Angela Knight
ISBN: 978-1-59596-897-5
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Ménage, Bisexual and More, Vampires, Werewolves, Shapeshifters, Magic and Mayhem, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Length: Collection

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1172

Blurb:

Lionel, one of the last Unicorn Valley Gryphons, is forced to choose his mate from among other shifters. What he doesn't count on is falling in love with the Werebitch Teema, who has a few needs and demands of her own. Lionel's foster brother Brolly falls for a shape -- and gender -- shifting Immortal, and Shadow, the future Unicorn herd stallion, loves an Elf. As if things couldn't get any stranger, their mercenary Unicorn uncle Jamir is falling in love with both Moontyger and the Dragon Li Chin -- at the same time.

Not everyone loves everybody in Unicorn Valley, but they try.

This collection includes the previously released novellas Gryphon's Heart, Stallion's Heart, Healer's Heart, and Moontyger's Quest.

This collection is also available in print. Visit our Books in Print page for more information.

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

There would be no mate for him.

Lionel brooded on that ugly fact from the ledge outside his nesting cave. It was good to be home where the air was clean and the pulse of magic strong, but that didn’t change the fact that he would die, alone.He folded his long, bare legs until he achieved the meditative pose his foster mother taught him. However, instead of meditating, he put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his hands. The loneliness threatened to overwhelm him.

“Now there’s a dejected fellow!” The familiar voice eased the ache of loneliness.

Lionel turned to see his foster brothers Brolly and Shadow make the final few feet of climb to the ledge where he sat. After a lot of masculine back pounding, Lionel invited his brothers inside. They sat on great cushions made dusty by the long months of disuse, but no one cared.

“No luck in finding a Gryphoness, old pal?” Brolly’s human form was of a brawny young man with brown hair and twinkling brown eyes full of mischief.

Lionel shook his head, and felt his shoulders droop with despair.

Brolly put a comforting hand on his arm.

Shadow looked on sympathetically, his horn knob flashing silver in the morning light.

Lionel shook his golden brown hair out of his eyes. “No, no luck. It was horrible outside our magical home! You’d think in the sky, and as high as I fly, I’d be safe.” He pointed to a wound on his shoulder. “They’ve become more proficient with their arrows than your father estimated. Everywhere, the evidence exists Gryphons once were Outside, in statues and artwork on cloth they hang from their homes.” He pounded his fist into his hand in frustration. “But no real, live Gryphons anywhere!”

Brolly put his hand on Lionel’s clenched fist. “Will you let me look at the wound?” As a healer, Brolly was always courteous enough to ask if his help would be accepted. It was perhaps the sole serious thing about him.

“If you insist. I packed it with the herbs you gave me. It shouldn’t need healing.” Lionel forced himself to stillness. “I did miss the familiar tingle of a decent healer, I must say. The arrow came out of nowhere. I swear it! Humans are everywhere! Like ants! I almost was a pretty Gryphon trophy or rug for the wall!” He shuddered and remembered how close the arrow came to his vulnerable chest.

Brolly’s brown hand was over the arrow wound in a flash. “Now, that’s a vile thought!” Brolly’s distracted voice still held a measure of disgust. “I’m sorry you’d no luck, brother mine.”

The warm tingle of Brolly’s healing gift ceased, and Lionel breathed a sigh of relief. The constant ache was gone.“Why must I be one of the last of my kind?” Lionel complained. He studied the talons on the end of his hand. “I need a mate, damn it. Not only just to ease a lusty moment, but I’m one of the last Gryphons here in the Valley. I must make cubs if Gryphons are to survive.” He looked around his shabby nest cave. A female made all the difference between a place to sleep and a home. In his mind’s eye, he could almost see it. A nesting Gryphoness purring, games of Pounce and Tumble with the whistling laughter of Gryphlets, and the proud joy of flight lessons.

“You’re handsome enough to get a Gryphoness, too, if there were one available,” put in Shad, in the low tones of his kind. All Unicorns were soft-spoken, but vicious fighters when need arose. “The fact is, Lionel, you must choose a mate from outside your own race,” Shad pointed out, his voice earnest. “A filly or Vampire bitch won’t suit. Fillies produce single offspring, and Vamps tend to throw too many females.”

“I don’t want a filly, old friend. You can keep them. I don’t want an herbivore cluttering up my nest growing plants to eat. The very thought makes me shudder!”

Shad chuckled. “In truth, a Werewolf bitch is best since they’re prolific enough to produce litters.”

“But I want a real Gryphoness! The purity of my line…”

“Won’t continue without a mate, Feather Wit,” Shadow interrupted sternly. “As you well know, what form you are, you become in all ways.”

Brolly jumped in. “All she’d need to do is stay in Gryphoness form until she gave birth, Lionel. You know that.”

Lionel grumbled, then sighed. “You’re right. I’m stooping at shadows. I must find a female willing to give up her form for me. That is difficult enough.” He grinned at Shadow. “I will look among the Werewolves first. I would prefer a carnivore.”

Shadow manifested three glasses of wine that floated near the hands of his brothers. Brolly and Lionel grabbed up their wine glasses.

The sparkling pink stuff slid down Lionel’s throat like liquid gold. He toasted his elegant brother in appreciation. “May I find a bitch, queen, or flirtatious filly who can love me enough to fill my cave with joy."

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1172

Executive Decisions: Research Only by Marteeka Karland

Executive Decisions: Research Only
by Marteeka Karland

Cover art by Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-162-6
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Ménage
Series: Executive Decisions
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1169

Blurb:

Aimee has a promising career ahead of her as a science fiction author. Her editor thinks she'd make an even bigger sensation if she sexed her work up a bit. There's only one small problem. Aimee's a virgin.
Darius, owner of Executive Decisions, is completely out of his element when trying to match Aimee with an escort. Not just any man will do, and he wants to make sure he gets it right. The only person he truly trusts with the delicate flower is his best friend and business partner Yusuf Abudallah. Yusuf agrees, but he has reservations. Not about Aimee, but about Darius.
It seems the untouchable Darius Faeman has met his match. But will he realize it before it's too late?

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"What's the matter with you, Darius? You're wearing out a path in the lovely carpet."
Darius merely growled. He had never been this agitated in Executive Decisions' long history. "Nothing."
His long-time friend and partner, Yusuf Abudallah, pressed on, like he always did when Darius refused to tell him something. "Oh, really? Is that why you look like a cornered jungle cat? You're ready to string someone up, and I just want to make sure I don't need to find another line of work."
"Don't be absurd." Darius knew he sounded harsher than necessary, but he had a problem he couldn't figure out. He'd never been in this position before.
Yusuf placed both palms on Darius's hand-carved mahogany desk. "Then tell me what's wrong."
Darius stopped his pacing and turned to Yusuf. For possibly the first time since they'd met, the Middle Eastern man looked supremely annoyed with him.
"Sorry, I guess I am a bit out of sorts."
"A bit?" Yusuf snorted and pushed away from the desk. He sat in a nearby chair and crossed his legs, his expression one of annoyance. "You're not acting like yourself at all. You're acting like a man in danger of losing something important to him."
"It's not that." Darius waved him off. "I have a client I can't match."
Yusuf narrowed his eyes. "This wouldn't happen to be the writer you mentioned last month, would it?"
"Of course it's the damned writer," Darius snapped. "Who the hell else would it be? I've been obsessing about what to do with her for a fucking month now!" Yusuf raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Immediately, Darius was sorry he'd let his irritation get the better of him. In all these years he'd been matching people with their true mates, he'd never come across someone he couldn't find another person for.
Until Aimee McAllister.
"I'm sorry, Yusuf." Darius collapsed in the chair behind his desk and thumped his head twice on the pristine top. This was infuriating. "She's expecting to arrive in two days on an island paradise to meet with -- and I quote -- 'one, possibly two, attractive, open-minded men who would be willing to help me research my latest novel.'"
"That doesn't sound too hard." Yusuf narrowed his eyes. "I can think of at least six men I'd consider for that job."
"And you'd be dead wrong. There's a wealth of information she doesn't list on her information sheet that could ruin any chance she has for happiness. All she's thinking about is researching a book. I'm trying to see the bigger picture."
"I've never understood your secret formula, Darius. If another woman came to you with the same info sheet, you'd give her a man -- or couple of men or eight -- to sex her up, put a smile on her face, and send her on her way with exactly what she asked for. Same with the men. What is it about this woman that makes you want to save her soul and help her live her ultimate fantasy?"
"I just know, Yusuf." He sat back and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "There are times when a man or a woman just needs more than a one-night stand. This is one of those times. I can feel it in my very being as surely as I can feel the changing weather of Mother Nature. This girl needs more than a research partner. She needs a life partner."
"OK. So what are we going to do? We've got two days to figure it out."
"I'll be damned if I know, Yusuf. I simply can't find even one man I'd trust with her. There's no one I trust not to break her heart, or her spirit."
"You make her sound like she's fragile. What is it she didn't tell you that's got you so worked up, Darius?"
"She's a virgin. And I don't mean simply she's never had sex with a man. I mean she's a virgin virgin. Even to the point of she's never been kissed. I don't think she's ever even held hands with a man before."
"Wait a minute. Back up." Yusuf leaned forward, hands on his knees, obviously interested in the problem at hand, but confused. "What kind of book is she researching?"
"Apparently --" Darius crossed his hands over his chest. Even he couldn't believe the situation. "-- she's a science fiction writer trying to turn to something a little more... explicit. She's planning on using Executive Decisions to teach her the physical sensations associated with sex while keeping an emotional detachment."
Yusuf snorted. "Good plan. If she wants to write for a men's magazine. Is she wanting to write pure erotica?"
"I think it's more like erotic romance."
"Without the romance? I guess she doesn't realize the emotional attachment that goes with sex and all things physical."
"I'm guessing not. You see my predicament."
"Absolutely. Tell me something. Is she a good writer?" It was Yusuf's turn to pace now. This was why Darius loved working with the Middle Eastern man. He took this job as seriously as Darius himself.
"I'd say better than average. She has brilliant ideas and her stories and characters are all wonderfully written, but her agent thinks she needs to add some 'spice' to the plot. She thinks a little sex is just what Aimee needs for her books to make the leap from good to fan-fucking-tastic."
"You sound like you agree, but I'm sensing you don't really give a damn."
"I don't."
Darius and Yusuf stared at each other a very long time. They both knew who would be accompanying Aimee to her research retreat.
"I'll pack my bags," Yusuf said without even pretending Darius might mean someone else, "though I'm not sure I agree with you on this one."
That surprised Darius. Few things did that. "What do you mean?"
"I think you've picked the wrong man," Yusuf continued when Darius would have argued with him. "Or at least, I think there is someone better suited for her than I." The younger man stood and left the room before Darius could question him.
Having set his best friend to meet the woman who had haunted his dreams since he'd met her, Darius expected relief from his burden of care. Instead, his stomach gnawed at him. This still wasn't right. He was missing something. Something important.
Something that could very well change someone's life forever.
But whose?

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1169

Last Call Europe: Irish Creme by Leila Brown

Last Call Europe: Irish Crème
by Leila Brown

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-235-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, BDSM
Theme(s): Ménage, Magic and Mayhem
Series: Last Call Europe
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1170

Blurb:

Ciarran, an Irish traditional witch, has had her luck stolen by a vindictive leprechaun. Without her luck, everyday life has become a trial. And her spells are more like mis-spells. There's only one thing to do. Go to the Last Call Bar and order up the right drink.
Irish Crème: Only the extremely lucky need apply. A double!
Decllan and Niall came to Last Call to relax on the one night a year they get together. Neither of them expected they'd end up spending the night with an out-of-luck witch who needs their help. Luckily they're up for the job.

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

There were a ton of little, and surprisingly not so little, green men in the bar. Well, not truly green but dressed in an abundance of green. This was crazy. Honestly, Ciarran needed to do something to regain her luck, but going into a bar just outside London on St. Patrick's Day didn't seem like such a bright idea.
"I know that look, Ciarran." Her sister, Aslinn, grabbed her arm and dragged her through the door. "Come on, I see a couple seats at the bar."
She took a steadying breath and followed her sister inside. She stepped up over the slight step just inside the bar but somehow the left heel of her shoe got caught on something. She tripped and fell into her sister, who crashed into the waitress in front of them. They fell forward in a tangled heap of flailing arms and legs.
Stupid, stupid shoes. She knew she should have worn flats. But no, Aslinn wouldn't let her out of the house without putting on something with killer high heels. Normally, she could've danced in circles with these bad boys, but with her luck stolen she was glad she hadn't broken her neck.
"Need a hand?" A deep brogue sounded near her ear.
She looked up into the sexiest whiskey-brown eyes she'd ever seen. His fingers wrapped around hers and pulled her up into a standing position. Warmth spread from his fingers into her hand and sent a lightning bolt straight to her cunt.
Hell. She wasn't here to hook up with the first man she saw. She needed help, and not the kind of help this six-foot hottie could give her.
"Thank you," Ciarran mumbled, then pulled away from him and followed her sister to the bar. Aslinn passed up the bar closest to the door, the one with the most people lounging in front of it. Instead, she weaved her way to the bar at the back that sat a step up from the floor. Ciarran grabbed a seat, focusing on the garish green decorations all around the place.
"I can't believe you just did that," Aslinn practically snarled at her, not breaking the smile she had plastered to her face. Her sister was a master at hiding her emotions.
"It wasn't on purpose," Ciarran whispered back. They both knew Ciarran had no control over it. Right now, everything that could go wrong in her life was going wrong. From the mice infestation of her apartment building, to the cement truck crash that walled up the front of her aromatherapy shop, to her misfiring magick and beyond. She was living in a perpetual state of embarrassment. She looked out over the room where most of the men openly stared at her and her sister. "Besides, you made me wear these shoes."
"What will you ladies have?" The bartender smiled and wiped the bar in front of them, setting down two coasters with "Last Call" imprinted on them.
"Can we see a drink list?" Aslinn batted her eyelashes at him. He pulled out a laminated list and handed it to her. She handed it to Ciarran without even looking at it. "What do you recommend?"
Flirting with him was all fine and dandy for Aslinn, but Ciarran needed something special. Something she was most likely only going to find here and only on St. Patrick's Day. She skimmed the menu until her eyes hit on what she needed.
Irish Crème, only the extremely lucky need apply.
That was perfect. Since she had no luck the best thing to do was get some from someone with luck to spare. She looked up and shook her head at Aslinn and the bartender. They touched hands when he handed her sister a drink and their gazes locked like lusty teenagers.
"Excuse me?" Ciarran cleared her throat. "Can I get an Irish Crème?" When the bartender moved to grab some bottles, she added, "Make it a double."
Aslinn choked on her drink, sputtering for a few seconds and coughing until her senses cleared. She slammed her hand down on the bar, and turned toward Ciarran. "Shit, Ciarran. Do you know what you've done?"
"I ordered a drink, a strong drink. And hopefully a really lucky leprechaun," she replied matter-of-factly. The bartender set her drink and a key down in front of her. She picked up the drink and swallowed a throat-burning mouthful.
"Actually, you just ordered up two lucky leprechauns... at the same time." Aslinn stared around the bar. "Have you ever been double teamed?"
Ciarran's heart dropped into her stomach, and heat spread through her cheeks in a mad rush. Her luck was as bad as ever. Any other place, a double would have been an innocent thing. "Maybe nobody heard."
Ciarran turned away from her sister and looked around. There were at least two dozen men forming a semi-circle around them. Ah hell!

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1170

Nights in Pink Satin by Sharon Marie Bidwell

Nights in Pink Satin
by Sharon Maria Bidwell

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-237-1
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1171

Blurb:

Vincent is a vampire of world renown, even if most people believe his story is a fable, but with age comes boredom. Seeking out new silk to line his coffin for his annual Halloween ball, he comes across a bolt of pink fabric. Curiosity leads him to a mistake that is about to change his existence.
Martin is a newly turned vampire and a lonely gay man. When he finds an extremely good looking and famous vampire in his humble abode, he's glad of the company even though he's afraid.
When a simple mistake leads to explosive passion, what's a vampire to do but look forward to a future of gay nights between sheets of pink satin?

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

One push broke the lock. Vincent walked into the ground floor flat, shaking his head. So easy to get in, so much cover, a closed-in garden with no back exit. He grinned. He always enjoyed rescuing a maiden in distress, even modern day ones. He could sense no one inside, vampire or otherwise, so he'd taken the liberty of gaining entrance.
Vincent set the bolt of pink fabric to one side although he had plans for it later. He wanted to familiarise himself with the layout, see if the bed was... sturdy enough. Visions of spreading that pink satin out over the bed and rolling around on it filled his mind. The satin wasn't the only pink thing he wanted to spread. He never understood some women's penchant for pink but it didn't take much to get a grip on this woman's moods. He anticipated someone delicate and very feminine. Someone who wore sandals and carried a very small handbag. Maybe soft curls surrounded her face. Yes, as he turned in a tight circle and took in the details of the flat, he could well imagine the woman who lived here.
For the first time in a long while, his body responded to the images that assaulted his mind. His cock twitched though failed to harden. To attain that level of arousal he needed blood, to drink. He fully expected to hunt with the female vampire who lived here. They could share prey, their mutual act of fulfilment bringing them closer. Flushed with blood, they could fulfill... other needs. Maybe she would know somewhere suitable, and they could search close by, or maybe she had a donor. He had no intention of harming this young vampire's neighbours, or harming anyone. He didn't see the point in bestowing pain or instilling fear unless it was necessary. If he went about this right, humans didn't even have to know vamps drank from them, not if one got the seduction right. One thing you could say for older vampires was that most of them could teach the younger ones a thing or two about temptation, whether it was the luring of humans or each other. Vincent was looking forward to this seduction as much as the outcome.
Impatience welled up in him, and although initially he'd been pleased to find the flat empty so he could assess the situation, now he wished for the female to return home. Such eagerness surprised him.
His gaze wandered across to the bolt of pink cloth, leaning so innocently against the wall. Pink for innocence; red for sex. Ha! That pink was so vibrant it positively glowed. It certainly screamed sex.
Vincent paced, not taking in details of the room at all. His mind was awash with images. Even so, right now his... desires mingled. His sudden ache for sex spurred his craving to drink.
Pink.
His mind jolted back to that bright, vibrant colour as it flashed in the corner of his vision. At once, thoughts consumed his mind. Pink cloth, pink skin, pink folds, pink lips parted on a breath, a sigh... Vincent closed his eyes. In his mind, his fingers slid up the inner heated curve of bare thighs. His head descended; his teeth penetrated. Moans resounded, his and his victim's; they both trembled. His prey pleaded, though for what type of release it was difficult to tell. In the vision, his cock rose. It always did when his captive whimpered. A small smile teased his lips. It wasn't cruelty on his mind but an exchange of desires. Hell, this was his fantasy. He let the scene take his mind and body both. In the fantasy, he couldn't see the face of the person beneath him. He could only touch, taste, smell, and hear.
In his mind, they drank from a willing human. He would drink from either sex tonight to have that longing satisfied. One desire fulfilled gave Vincent room to consider another. He could put his teeth to other uses. He nipped, drew skin and flesh into his mouth and sucked. This time when his cock nudged willing flesh, it wasn't a hard brick surface he thrust against. He and his imaginary partner rolled in satin... pink satin, the colour of flushed skin, the glow of a sunset at dusk when he opened his eyes, the beginnings of a blush. The satin stroked, caressed him, like skin brushing against skin but more than that, more intimate than that somehow. As he touched his unseen lover, the satin stroked him, embraced him, moulded to his form, as if it were a third lover in bed with them. The cloth dipped into hollows, creases of his skin, folds of his body, tickled him like the stroke of a tongue. He rolled, entangled in pink satin, in soft caresses, in longing, desire, and ultimately frustration.
As good as it felt, these images weren't real. Frowning, Vincent struggled to remain with the fantasy. He hoped to make them real, but he didn't want the vision to end. Just a little... longer... Ah. There. Just there...
On his back, he let the pink satin play over his body. It waved and shimmered, undulated as though stirred by a giant breath. Everywhere it touched, it coaxed. His body shifted, floundered, wounded by desire, want, need, greed... Unable to hold back, he grasped the pink fabric, wrapping up his cock and balls, forming a tunnel with his hands to plough and furrow into, somewhere tight. This penetration had no form. Sexuality had nothing to do with his need for release, to scatter, shatter, to attain that heady peak that only blood and sex could help him reach. Climax...
Vincent opened his eyes. If vampires could sweat, he'd be sweating. He didn't know if he should be grateful or annoyed that it wasn't possible. His body felt overheated and there was nothing he could do to cool down. Nothing he could do... alone.

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Cavern Dancer Collection by Kate Hill

Cavern Dancer (Collection)
by Kate Hill
Cover art by Angela Knight
ISBN: 978-1-60521-153-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Dark Fantasy
Length: Collection
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1167

Blurb:

Cavern Dancers... Handsome, athletic, and powerful, their name speaks of mystery and magic.

Gilana knows she cannot afford to marry for love. Yet in her secret dreams she longs for one of the exotic divers she's glimpsed from the safety of her carriage. Still, she clings to her dreams.
Two men fated to love women who will never be theirs...

The Cavern Dancer... Jehf, half brother to King Tabor, must do what the king cannot -- get the new queen, Gilana, with child. By day, Gilana despises the man she has married, yet every night he fulfills her deepest desires. Just when Gilana realizes she is dealing with two different men, Tabor orders Jehf's execution. Only with the help of the mysterious Soothsayer can the couple hope to survive the king's evil plan.

The Soothsayer... Vlas Sascha Evgenyl sold his soul to free his brother from an existence far worse than death. For sixteen years the powerful Soothsayer has served an evil master, trapped by the power of a spell whose very use has exiled him from his own people. Free at last, he seeks the only solace his tortured soul has ever known -- the love of a woman he can never have.
Publisher's Note: This collection contains the previously released novellas Fantasy Flames: Cavern Dancer and Fantasy Flames: Soothsayer.

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"I suppose you're wondering why I've sent for you?" King Tabor of Julius fixed his squinty gaze on his bejeweled hand rather than on his half brother, Jehf, who knelt directly in front of him.
"I admit I am curious."
"How is your injury?" asked the king, the disinterest in his voice at war with his question.
Jehf's insides twisted with anger. Drafted into the war between Julius and the neighboring kingdom of Sun Isle, he had been taken prisoner, sustaining a severe leg injury that had nearly cost him his life and his ability to dive. "It's almost healed."
"Good. Very good. I imagine such an injury caused your love life to suffer."
The question took Jehf aback. He stared at his brother, who finally met his gaze. "Excuse me, Your Majesty?"
"It couldn't have been easy pleasuring women while you were in such condition."
"What does this have to do with --"
"Are you healed enough now to perform?"
"Perform?"
"Come, come, Jehf. A strapping male such as yourself mustn't be shy about such things. And, after all, this conversation is between brothers."
Jehf's curiosity suddenly turned to suspicion. Tabor hated recognizing his peasant relations. Other than the king's rare public appearances, Jehf hadn't seen his brother since they were children. Even then Tabor had hated their physical resemblance to one another, one of the reasons Tabor had ordered Jehf, unlike the rest of the old king's illegitimate children, banished from the palace.
Not that Jehf minded. He preferred the life of his mother's people, Cavern Dancers who had settled on Julius's southern coast. From his mother's race he'd inherited the "water magic." Although the Cavern Dancers were little more than slaves to Julius's Royal House, their aquatic gifts were revered by many. Cavern Dancers were able to hold their breath for up to an hour, diving to depths which would kill ordinary humans.
The Cavern Dancers were used to dive for the world's most precious jewels, Hell's Eyes. One of the world's biggest supplies of Hell's Eyes was located in the deepest, darkest ocean caverns just off the coast of Julius. The Cavern Dancers' underwater mining supported Tabor's kingdom well, even if the divers saw little of the rewards from their work.
"I need to know if you are fit to sleep with a woman, Jehf."
Jehf flinched. "Why?"
"You have served your country well, but I have one last duty for you to perform for the sake of Julius."
He didn't like the sound of this. "In what way?"
"As you know, next month I am to marry the princess of Minor Ives."
"Yes."
"I have no desire to consummate the marriage, but it is necessary that I secure an heir."
Tabor's reply didn't surprise Jehf. Though no one dared speak of it openly, it was rumored that the king preferred men in his bed. "With all due respect, what does that have to do with me?"
"You and I are so similar in appearance that we could be twins." Though Tabor offered a frozen smile, his distaste shone in his eyes. "I will marry Princess Gilana, but you will spend the wedding night with her, and every night thereafter until she conceives."
If the plan hadn't disgusted Jehf, he might have laughed in his brother's face, king or no. "I refuse."
"To refuse me is to risk imprisonment."
"Then have your guards take me away."
An evil smile spread across Tabor's face. "I had a feeling you would say that. You're brave to the point of being stupid. I also know your savings from diving for merchants in addition to diving for Julius itself have been depleted. Your mother is ill and the medical care she requires is expensive."
Jehf's teeth ground. It seemed Tabor had been keeping close watch on him. With each passing moment, Jehf hated his brother more.
"Do what I command, and I will see that your mother is given the care she requires directly from the royal healers. If you refuse, you will be jailed. And then who will look after your mother and young sister?"
"You're a damn tyrant."
"If I didn't need your flesh all in one piece, I'd have you whipped for that comment. What is your answer?"
"All right." The words left a bitter taste in Jehf's mouth.
Tabor smiled. "Don't look so upset. After all, your child will inherit the crown of Julius, something that you never could have hoped for."
"Something that never mattered to me."
"My servants will arrange your training."
"Training?"
"Though you are to avoid conversation with the princess, we must make sure you will pass for a king, should you be forced to speak with her. Of course no one must ever know about this, including your family."
Of course. Jehf nodded.
Glancing away, the king waved his hand. "Leave me now. My guards will take you to your chamber. From now until your task is complete, you will live at the palace."
"But my family --"
"Will be informed that you are serving your king. Remember, as long as you cooperate, your mother will be cared for. Should you cause any problems, you and your family will be executed. Do you understand?"
Jehf gritted his teeth and nodded. Two guards approached. One prodded him with the flat of his sword and guided him out of Tabor's chamber.
* * *Princess Gilana, dressed in her wedding finery, walked through the public garden in the center of Julius's capital city. Hundreds of guests gathered around, anxious to witness her marriage to King Tabor. It seemed they were far more excited about it than she was. Still, part of her duty was to ensure prosperity for her kingdom. Marriage to a man as powerful as Tabor would do just that. Not that her land of Minor Ives wasn't a force to be reckoned with, but once she inherited the throne, Minor Ives and Julius would unite. Under the joint rule of her and her husband, their lands would become one of the largest, strongest forces in the world.
Gazing toward the fountain of the chief god and goddess where Tabor stood with the priest, she wished she felt differently about the king. It would have been nice to at least like her husband. She knew better than to ask for love. Love was reserved for those without political responsibilities.
Tall and slim, with thick chestnut hair, Tabor was considered attractive by most women. Gilana found him a bit too arrogant and his gestures almost effeminate. Not that effeminate men offended her; she simply didn't relish the idea of marrying one.
When she reached the fountain, the priest smiled slightly in greeting while Tabor examined the delicate lace decorating his shirtsleeve. He squinted badly, making his rather small, close-set eyes appear unattractive. If not for his eyes, he might have been handsome.
Gilana was thankful that wedding ceremonies in Julius were short.
The crowd fell silent when the priest held up a small silver bowl and began speaking. "On this day, Tabor Bradley Garrad and Gilana Francine Kees will join for life. Under the protection of the all-seeing god and goddess, they will love one another. Honesty and respect will prevail over any temptation which may threaten their happiness."
Gilana tried to catch Tabor's gaze, but he was staring blankly across the garden, so she turned her full attention to the priest.
"To purify themselves and begin a fresh life together, they will drink from the sacred fountain."
The priest offered the bowl to Tabor who filled it and drank. As ritual demanded, he then held the bowl to her lips.
As she sipped, she glanced at him again, thinking how beautiful the ceremony could have been, had they actually shared the love the priest had spoken of.
The priest took back the bowl and said, "Do you, Gilana, accept Tabor as your husband, to love as purely as the goddess loves the god?"
"I do."
"Do you, Tabor, accept Gilana as your wife, to love as purely as the god loves the goddess?"
Tabor covered his lips with a delicate hand to stifle his yawn before he replied, "I do."
"You are now wed."
Gilana tried to smile at her new husband as she stepped forward, expecting the traditional wedding kiss. Turning abruptly, Tabor, followed by two of his guards, exited down the pathway leading out of the garden.
Drawing a deep breath, Gilana glanced around, noticing that many of the guests looked as surprised as she felt. His insult enraged her. One of Gilana's flaws was her horrible temper. In her youth, her instructors had tried to curb it, but when something angered her, Gilana's wrath was almost uncontrollable.
If Tabor thought he could snub her like this, she would make him pay. She wouldn't say a word to him at the wedding banquet.
* * *An hour later, Gilana's anger had reached a dangerous peak. Her plan to ignore Tabor throughout the meal failed because he didn't so much as glance at her. The man looked thoroughly bored with the entire feast, especially with his bride.
Finally he stood and turned to one of his guards. "I've had enough of this. I require time alone."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Tabor turned to Gilana. "I will see you in your chamber in half an hour."
"You think so, Your Majesty?" she said through clenched teeth. "After you ignore me you believe I will crawl obediently into your bed?"
He curled his lip, then leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Yes, unless you want this marriage declared null and void."
Gilana's teeth ground. She longed to fling her goblet of wine in his face, but she couldn't. Her mother and her kingdom expected this marriage to succeed.
"Well?" Tabor stood, squinting down at her.
"In half an hour."
He turned on his heel and swept out of the hall, followed by his guards.

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Soul Familiar 3: Fated by Kate Steele

Soul Familiar 3: Fated
by Kate Steele

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-117-6
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Soul Familiar
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1164

Blurb:

"Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat." In other words it's a sneaky, hairy little bast... um, son-of-a-gun and you have two options on how to handle it. You let it walk all over you, or you wrestle it into submission. Not that I'm into rat wrestling, but I for one do not intend to have tiny footprints all over whatever part of my life fate chooses to use as a doormat.
My name is Alex Layton and enough with the metaphors already. My lover, wizard-partner and soul mate Tyler Montgomery and I have run out of time. As decreed by the Council of Elders that governs the affairs of soul familiars, Tyler and I must now face a trial of magical combat. If we win, our bond becomes permanent. If we lose, we are separated forever.
With options like those, fate had better watch her ass.

Excerpt:

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Screwed by J. Hali Steele

Screwed
by J. Hali Steele

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-234-0
Genre(s): Paranormal, Humor & Satire, Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Ménage, Bisexual and More, Vampires
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1165

Blurb:

Purple P. Rose is a brash private investigator. Her latest case has her visiting the city's seediest nightspot, the Mons Venus, with partner and boyfriend, Richard E. Rection. Their new case is full of surprises. Dick discovers he's bisexual and is worried Purp won't like it.
They are both unaware there's a new and sinister being in town -- Peter Hard, a vampyre who enjoys the taste of women and men alike. He's chosen Purple to be his. Ready to claim her, he uses his powers to coerce Dick to bring him in as a partner.
Their lives will never be the same again.

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

It was the crack of dawn. Purple P. Rose woke up with a hairy one in her face -- Boyd's ass. Shit, had she had too much to drink? She couldn't think straight. Everything was askew -- even the view out of her ritzy loft's window. The trees appeared to bow and wave at her as she listened to the shower run in her bathroom.
What the hell had happened last night? Something about the new guy. She looked back at Boyd, who still slept peacefully. Purp gazed across the park and tried to remember. She did have some memories intact -- the worst being her partner Dick. She thought he'd gone soft. Maybe not. She shook her head to clear the clouds of confusion.
Richard E. Rection was a real son of a bitch known as Dick to his friends. Purp found she'd rather have no one else back her up in a tight spot. He'd done that last night. Warmth crept down her thighs as she turned over the pictures in her mind of what she could remember. She'd seen a new side of Dick. Flashes came to her in living color.
They'd checked out the club Mons Venus, a cheap strip joint on the Westside, as planned. The girls there were known to go all the way with customers. So, needless to say, the place stayed full.
Every nut-sac in town turned up at Mons Venus. Purp and Dick had met there last night to interview a bartender involved in their latest case. It wasn't their usual type of job, but she'd taken it for the money. Car repairs had left her flat broke, and it was the first of the month, which came too fast lately.
Her real problem -- so did Dick.
Now she remembered. He'd been the first to interview the bartender in question. Dick then disappeared with him to a room behind the stage.
After he'd left, Purp ordered her second gin and tonic. She'd decided to enjoy the show. The girl on stage had hair the color of a magnificent western sunset. The bush between her thighs carried the same flaming color. Red knew the pole she used intimately. Purp's panties were soon full of morning dew. But it was nighttime and she wanted to be full of something else. A hefty dick, a sliver of tongue, it didn't matter. Anything would do the job right now.
A tremor of premonition lanced through her. She studied the other patrons. As she looked around, her eyes lit on a dark corner table. Someone stared back at her from the table there. She could make out the outline of a body. Male. Smoke wafted around him, obscuring his face. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and her pussy clenched on itself. Who was he and why was he watching her? It wasn't the first time she'd had the feeling lately. Shit, just what she needed -- the witchy stuff following her around.
Purp shook it off and felt her side for the gun holstered there. The wave of raw lust that slammed into her left her weak. Between her thighs, her cunt pulsed. She went through life horny, but what hit her now was hell.
Dick hadn't returned, so Purp went to find him. What she found didn't shock her. Not much did nowadays. She'd opened the door to the room where she heard thumping and bumping inside, and found him in a big wingback chair with his pants around his ankles and the bartender's face buried between his muscular Adonis-like thighs. Purp had never seen Dick in this light. Hmm.
"Purp --"
"Don't worry, Dick. I like what I see." Did she like it?
Dick's joy stick, as she called it, was huge. A broadsword. He knew how to wield it, too. Most of the time. Purple spent many nights with it stuffed in her goody basket. There, at least something brought a smile to her face.
They'd shared women before, but this was something different. Excitement blossomed in her chest. She watched the jubilation written on Dick's face, and processed this new information about him.

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Spaceport: The Cannis Affair by Mikala Ash

Spaceport: The Cannis Affair
by Mikala Ash

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-239-5
Genre(s): Futuristic, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Ménage, Spaceport
Series: Spaceport Multi-Author
Length: Novella






http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1166







Blurb:


When Peri Barberossa, award-winning sex reporter for the sealed section of the immensely popular guide The Galactic Tourist, flees in order to avoid becoming the newest addition to General R’nok’s harem she encounters two military fighters in the intergalactic void. Peri watches in horror as the two duke it out with quantum torpedoes, and she rescues the unconscious pilots as their ships disintegrate.
What can a dedicated sex reporter do with two gorgeous hunks in her power? The fact that Laz and Rendido are sworn enemies bent on each other's destruction only adds spice to the heady mix, and Peri studies their sexual mores in an atmosphere brimming with tension... sexual and otherwise.



Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Naked and at ease in the feather soft bed, I was completely at one with the universe, when reality slapped me across the face.
At first I thought I simply misheard General R'nok's solemn commitment to have me locked up in his harem. He'd said something about customary law and me being his property for life. Experience has often shown me that post coital bliss can play havoc with one's perception, so I sought clarification. I propped myself up on trembling elbows, acutely aware of my erratically beating heart, the result of five gut-wrenching orgasms in ten minutes.
"What, darling?" I asked.
The general paused, balanced on one leg, the other tangled up inside the kilt of his kaleidoscopic uniform. "You are now mine."
"I'm sorry?"
He cast a steely Etile glance toward me, his dark eye ridges folding slightly. "Are you deaf?"
Uh-oh. His gruff manner was so different from the smooth wooing of last night. "No, I just didn't understand what you said."
"You have had both orifices filled by my flesh," he said.
"And you filled them so well," I purred, trying to recapture the moment, remembering his two cocks driving into my pussy and ass at the same time, but I should have known that when it comes to men, there's always a catch.
"When you give both holes to an Etile warrior you have given your soul," he said as if he were explaining to me the intricacies of a paperclip. "You belong to me now, my concubine. We are bound for life."
"I didn't realize that was the custom," I explained, attempting to keep my voice level, though inside I was in an acute state of panic.
"It is not a custom. It is the law."
"Oh."
"Wait here. My aide will show you to your cot in the harem."
Cot? Harem?
He turned away from me and stretched an arm out to grasp the bedpost while he untangled his foot. The thing that jumped into my field of vision, apart from the erratically bobbing dual phalluses, both cocks still erect despite our recent exertions, was the stainless steel codpiece which had given me so much amusement at the embassy ball.
I remembered how heavy it felt in my palm when I'd disrobed him prior to our session of athletic passion and as I contemplated a lifetime spent in his harem, instinct took over.
The codpiece made a satisfying clunk as it impacted the side of his head. I use the passive voice when I describe the assault on the general's high-ranking skull. It seemed like I'd been possessed and not in conscious control of my actions.
Had this been a consciously deliberate attack, I would have said the codpiece felt heavy and cold in my hand as I raised it shoulder high and, after taking careful aim and with all my might, swung at his right temple, feeling the skin split as I struck.
You'll note the difference between acting instinctually, out of fear, versus deliberately striking the most powerful man on the planet. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
In any case, the general grunted appropriately and toppled over onto the floor. I jumped off the bed, pulled on my evening gown, transparent silken web from the Spider House on Gaskolin IX, slipped into my pumps, the latest Jess Boscolon creations, and raced to the door to listen for any activity.
From what I remembered of last night, when the general had so smoothly extricated me from the boring embassy party and lustily thrown me onto his bed, his chambers were in the east wing of the sprawling palace and conveniently close to the spaceport.
I found my handbag, a snappy little sequined number from the exclusive Balinese Collection, and rummaged about until I found my diamond encrusted Joclyn communicator. I called Fyche, my ship's AI, and asked him to order a spaceport taxi to meet me outside the general's door in five minutes flat.
"Oh, and power up Jalapeño's converters," I added somewhat breathlessly. "We need to leave."
"Again?"
I didn't have time to respond to his petulant whine because behind me the general gave a long, burbling groan. That wouldn't do. I needed more time. I returned to his prostrate body and tied him up with the exquisitely fine deshlen bed sheets. The silky fabric, soiled by our sweat and his copious spending, was super strong and made a good binding. Once I had him secured I stuffed his mouth with my Gaskolin Haute Couture scarf and rolled him under the bed.
Then I fled the chamber, immediately tripping over a startled aide who was inconveniently sitting on the threshold. I stopped midstride to explain that the general was resting and didn't want to be disturbed. The aide nodded sleepily and resumed his position on the tiny stool. Had he been there all night listening to my moans of passion and screams of ecstasy? I suppressed the moment of embarrassment and calmly asked for directions to the palace's front gate.
A dull thud sounded from inside the room signifying the general had regained consciousness and was no doubt surprised to find himself under the bed with what I hoped was an enormous headache. The aide reacted, and to distract him, I expressed confusion at his surprisingly clear and succinct directions and asked him to show me out himself. A smile, a wink and a flash of my right boob did the trick.
I endured his roving hand for fifty-two floors during the elevator's lazy descent and was very grateful when I found the taxi waiting at the palace gate; Fung knows what Fyche had paid to have it there so quickly. I gave the aide a peck on the cheek and a quick rub of his erect and very impressive dual phalluses. He was rewarded with a messy ejaculation inside his dress kilt and I left him swooning against the granite pillars. That good deed, I hoped, would buy me another chunk of precious time.
Twenty minutes later, Fyche had us in orbit and we were away.





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Send 'Em Packing Collection by Hannah Beckham

Send 'em Packing (Collection)
by Hannah Beckham

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-175-6
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Humor, Collections
Theme(s): Ménage, Werewolves
Length: Collection


http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1162









Blurb:



Maya Eddings is six feet tall, a black belt in tae kwon do, proficient with handguns, and an empath who runs her own private security firm in Kansas City. Her life couldn't be better, with the exception of two men who each want her to be exclusively theirs.
Matt Brewer, legal investigator and werewolf, wants Maya to be his life mate, but while she likes a little tail, actually growing one isn't all that appealing to her. Stephen Daniels, architect and part incubus demon, wants Maya too -- body and soul. But he's willing to settle on her body -- for now.
With two hunkalicous men fighting for her attention, mysteries to solve, bad guys to shoot, and a secret past that will rock her world, Maya's beginning to feel she's bitten off more than she can shoot.
Publisher's Note: This collection contains the three previously released novellas Packing Heat, Packing for Three, and Packing Up.









Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Maya Eddings patted her 9mm pistol while she stood outside the elevator doors, waiting for what seemed like minutes, but actually only seconds had passed. Nervous habit, really. It helped her to concentrate on the job. Her client, Milo Bach, a minor rock star with a major ego, fidgeted with a hand-held video game, making grunting noises every time he pushed a button.
Glancing in his direction, she rolled her eyes. He wore too long jeans and a seventies’ style, wide collared silk shirt. He was good-looking enough -- if you liked the David Cassidy meets Twisted Sister type. Milo had come to Kansas City to play Kemper Arena and it was Maya’s job to make sure he survived his press conference and autograph session.
His manager, Kit Stan, had hired Maya to get him safely from his room on the seventh floor of the Adam’s Mark hotel to the lower lobby. Apparently he’d been getting death threats from a rabid fan, and it wasn’t hard to see why. A little less than thirty minutes with the rock star, and Maya was ready to kill him.
She waited as the elevator door opened then peeked around the corners. No passengers. Good. Maya ushered Milo and his manager swiftly into the car and pushed the button for the first floor.
“Hold the elevator,” a deep masculine voice yelled from the hallway.
Maya leaned her head out of the opening and wet her lips. Mmm. Nice.
He was tall, at least 6’4”, medium blond hair, and under the tight black pants and a cobalt Nehru jacket, she could see he had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long muscular legs. Tempting, but uh-uh. She was off men, even if they happened to be unbelievably beautiful.
He arrived at the doors, just as they were closing. His arm shot out in between them, making them bounce open. Maya stepped forward with cat-like quickness, placing her hand on the man’s chest. Incredible heat poured down her arm, not burning hot, just strong sensual warmth. Her nipples went rigid under her black leather jumper.
Shit.
His mouth -- upper lip slightly fuller than the lower -- curved upward in a gorgeous smile. His remarkable bright green eyes were accented with gold rings around his pupils. Her breath caught in a short gasp and her tongue went tingly.
Even though his arms stayed at his sides, Maya felt hands brush against her breasts, caress her ass, rub down her mound to her wet folds. It’s all in your mind, Maya, she told herself. He’s just standing there. Nothing else. Just standing there… Exuding some major mojo.
Heat and desire rolled off the stranger and she fought the impulse to close the distance between them and kiss his luscious mouth. Instead, Maya shook her head and nudged him back one step into the corridor. “Sorry, Stud, you’ll have to take the next elevator.”
He tilted his head to the side, raised an eyebrow, and backed away. “No problem, hot stuff.”
Yikes! His smooth low voice sent goose bumps over her body. He winked as the doors closed between them. “Oh, jeez, I need to get laid,” she mumbled, then turned her attention back to the client.
The rocker must have heard her, because he leaned against the elevator rail and whispered to her, “Hey, Maya, you gorgeous Amazon, what say we blow this joint and take a little me and you time?”
Usually she didn’t mind the Amazon reference -- being six feet tall, she was used to it -- but the rock star was getting on her last nerve. Besides, his smarmy lust-filled emotions were dripping all over her. As a bodyguard, Maya’s empathic abilities came in handy, but certain men and women could be overwhelming.
“You and me,” she corrected and mentally added, asshole.
He snuggled his body in closer to hers. “Exactly. Me and you.” His long hair brushed against Maya’s shoulder. If he kept up the touching, he might not survive the trip to the lobby.
Rolling her eyes, she put out a hand to push him off. She patted the handgun in her hip holster. “No, the correct way to say that is ‘you and me’ and the answer is no.” She wanted to add that big hair bands died in the 80’s, but held her tongue. Besides, she hadn’t been paid yet.
Milo put up his hands defensively. “Hey, baby, what’s with the ’tude? Most chicks dig me. After all, I’m going to be a legend.” He smiled -- very self-assured.
Maya shook her head and held down the button on the two-way radio that clipped to her belt then spoke into the headset. “Jack, everything set?”
A voice came back over, “Yeah, boss, good to go.”
“Tyler, you set?”
“Yeah, no problem,” came a new voice.
The elevator slowed to a stop. “Have you ever heard of Michael Damian?” she asked Milo.
“Who?”
The doors opened to the lobby. “My point exactly. Rock on, dude. Your fans are waiting.” Maya stepped out between him and a mob of screaming teenage girls chanting “Milo.” She needed aspirin -- and quickly.

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Shunga Chronicles: Flight of Heron by Lizzie Lynn Lee

Shunga Chronicles: Flight of Heron
by Lizzie Lynn Lee

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-202-9
Genre(s): Action/Adventure, The Fetish Club, BDSM
Theme(s): Shunga
Series: Shunga Chronicles
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1168

Blurb:

It's hard to kill your enemy when you fall in love with him...
Haunted by the shameful death of her older sister Sadae, Lady Kinshiro Yukiko goes undercover as a tayū in Yoshiwara pleasure quarter to ensnare patronage of daimyo Tsunemoto Matsushita, the man who is responsible for Sadae's death.
When Yukiko finally meets the handsome lord up close and personal, she finds out that he isn't the man she believed him to be. And what makes the matter more complicated, Lord Matsushita is also smitten with Yukiko. Head over heels in love, he purchases Yukiko's contract and elevates her status to his concubine.
Torn between her newfound love and her sacred oath to restore her family honor, Yukiko is unwillingly swept into a tangled web of deceit, betrayal, and intricate political schemes in Tokugawa's exotic shogunate court, where one wrong move can cost her life and the life she holds most dear.

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Her plan was simple: bed Lord Tsunemoto Matsushita, and when he was in his most vulnerable state, she would avenge the death of her beloved sister, Sadae, and collect a confession from his dying mouth.
She'd plotted for years since she'd learned the truth behind her sister's tragic demise. But now, Yukiko found herself shrouded in doubt when she finally met him. Lord Matsushita was the Shogun's favorite vassal, and his gallantry was well known throughout Edo. If Yukiko hadn't discovered the ugly truth behind Lord Matsushita's noble character, she would naively believe he was as righteous as his reputation.
Yukiko reminded herself she must carry out her plan no matter how innocent he might look. Sadae wouldn't rest in peace until Yukiko fulfilled the vow she had sworn on her shrine. Sadae's death was a disgrace to the Kinshiro clan, and this revenge was the only way to restore their family honor.
She gave the daimyo a deep obeisance, proceeding to pour him sake. Her heart thundered and her hands trembled. She didn't fear him, nor did she yet have second thoughts. She just couldn't fathom why this man literally made her nervous.
"Tsunemoto-dono." Yukiko summoned all her wits, and schooled a coy smile she had rehearsed a thousand times before. "Would you like to sample these sweet cakes? Nishio-san procured them especially for you." She bowed again in a perfect motion, full of grace as any celebrated tayū, courtesan, would. The long sleeves of her scarlet kimono swept the edge of the lord's feet, and the silver sparrow jewelry that festooned her coiffure made a clinking sound when her forehead brushed the tatami floor. She started when she felt his warm hand on the nape of her neck. Lord Matsushita ordered her to rise.
Nishio, the yarite, madam chaperone of the pleasure house, also gave the daimyo deep obeisance. "Honorable Lord, please forgive the girl's impetuousness. Azalea was so excited when my lord decided to grant the honor of an engagement this evening."
Yukiko heard the sharpness in Nishio's tone, which served as an indirect warning for her: Don't ruin the charade. As a tayū -- the Lady of the First Class Rank courtesan in Yoshiwara's pleasure quarters -- she was supposed to maintain a stoic and passive demeanor on her first appointment with the patron. Yukiko was a virgin, and thus she lacked the necessary skills to please a man. But for the last several months, Nishio had taught her the pillowing art as well as how to carry herself to pass as a seasoned tayū. It would be a shame if the charade was foiled by a simple mistake.
Lord Matsushita made a tiny gesture with his hand, dismissing Nishio's apology. "I'm honored Lady Azalea would grant me an appointment tonight." The daimyo tugged Yukiko's chin up so she would look at his face. His dark eyes glittered like moonlit jewels when she caught his gaze. "I've heard of Lady Azalea's famous beauty for some time, and what they've been telling me doesn't do justice to what I witness before my eyes."
Yukiko blushed. She couldn't help being flattered, even though the praise came from this heartless man. She calmed herself, brushing out the fluttery feeling. But she was alarmed when Lord Matsushita politely requested Nishio to remove herself from the room so they could have some privacy.
"Forgive me, sire," Nishio objected. "I don't mean to be rude, but this is only your first appointment." Old custom dictated patrons would only bed a tayū on his third appointment, as the first and second appointments were intended for getting to know each other.
"Are you worried about your master's fee, Nishio? Tell Ori I would be more than happy to satisfy any due amount. Just leave us in private for now."
Yukiko cast a sharp glance at Nishio, hoping she would persuade the daimyo to rescind his decision. She wasn't supposed to bed him tonight, as she didn't have the weapon to carry out her plan. To her disappointment, Yukiko saw Nishio bow. No one dared to disagree with a daimyo, especially with a man like Lord Matsushita.
"Tsunemoto-dono, I bid you a good evening," Nishio conceded in a low voice.
The madam looked worried as she silently withdrew from the room. Yukiko caught the meaning in Nishio's eyes that she should go along with Lord Matsushita's whim. To assassinate a powerful man like him required a meticulous arrangement. They didn't think Lord Matsushita would fall into their machination this fast. And so Nishio and Yukiko hadn't planned to escape from Yoshiwara tonight. The pleasure quarter was tightly guarded. One couldn't just walk in and out unchallenged, especially women. The tight security measures were employed to preserve order, keeping shady characters away, and to prevent the courtesans from escaping.
Yukiko was about to pour the lord more sake when he suddenly halted her hand. "I prefer to enjoy my drink in my own fashion."
Yukiko was baffled for a second, and then she inclined her head. Nishio had told her that sometimes patrons demanded queer ways to be satisfied. She had no idea what the lord meant by preferring to drink in his own fashion. To ask would be an inappropriate thing to do.
"Azalea-chan. You're new in Yoshiwara, aren't you?" Lord Matsushita's voice sounded deep and warm, and commanded great authority.
"Yes, sire."
"I heard you are quite selective with patrons too. You even refused Senior Elder Umehara's patronage. Truthfully, I find your selectiveness quite unusual."
Yukiko didn't know what to say. Her sole purpose in Yoshiwara was to lure this man and then kill him. She had no interest in bedding old men for money. She thought hard and chose her answer carefully. "Sire, Lord Umehara is ripe with old age."
Matsushita smiled at her answer. "Senior Elder Umehara is a very wealthy and prominent man. His Excellency values his advice greatly. No courtesan has dared to refuse his patronage before. If you don't mind quenching my curiosity, may I ask why you did?"
Yukiko's lips thinned. "I don't mean to be rude, sire, but have you ever seen Lord Umehara in person? He is… most undesirable."
Lord Matsushita arched an eyebrow. "But he can buy your freedom. Don't you want to be free?"
"Not if I have to bed a man like him. Am I foolish, sire?" Yukiko dared to look upon him. The lord possessed a pair of sharp eyes -- hawk eyes, her sister used to say. They were oval-shaped, fathomless, and dark as a starless night. A true mark of a great warrior. In ancient times, people said a man who possessed hawk eyes could see a thousand miles away, and spot a liar with one glance. Could he see that she lied right now? Yukiko secretly hoped not.
"You're young. I understand." Matsushita reached for the sake flask and poured himself a cup. "How many men have you bedded since you arrived in Yoshiwara?"
The question was rude and unexpected. Yukiko had no idea why Matsushita would ask such a question. She could lie, but she worried he would already know the answer. A daimyo like him chose his intimate companions selectively. One of his spies would have already investigated her background before the lord decided to approach her.
She answered in a small voice, "None."
"Will you have me, Azalea-chan? I would rather not waste my time with women who have no interest in me."
"Lord, it would be my greatest honor to please you."
He arched his eyebrows again. A sneer lingered on the corner of his lips. "Is that so? Why?"
She was tempted to give more elaborate answers, but she was afraid he wouldn't believe her. "Because you're very desirable, sire."
His smile widened. "Yuhara Tamuramaro is also a desirable man, but you refused his request for a second appointment."
So he had investigated her. Yukiko found the fact rather amusing. "Forgive me, sire, since you wish me to be blunt, Lord Tamuramaro preferred sake and greasy barbarian food to my companionship. My art was wasted, sire. You should see the way he engorged the whole roast pheasant by himself." She pretended to shudder. "Repulsive."
Lord Matsushita laughed heartily. "Fair enough."
Yukiko was relieved. Apparently, her answer had satisfied him.
Lord Matsushita slowly lifted the cup and drank his sake in one gulp. His eyes devoured her with unspoken lust. His hawk eyes stripped her of her clothing, leaving her naked and vulnerable in his presence. Her face burned. She had anticipated this moment for years, and yet nothing had prepared her for the sudden attraction to this man. Yukiko resented herself for being weak.
"Look at me, Azalea."
Yukiko lifted her gaze from the floor and forced herself to meet his demand. Her heart skipped a beat. He was tall, broad-shouldered and very well built. Yukiko had stolen a glimpse of him when he arrived with his retainers downstairs. Lord Matsushita stood a head taller than everyone else in the room. The moment he arrived, all courtesans on the floor flirted for his attention.
"Do you want me to be your sponsor, Azalea-chan?"
A sponsor was a patron a tayū saw exclusively. When a patron willed himself to be a sponsor, the tayū would commit herself only to him, and was forbidden to receive the patronage of others. Yukiko fluttered her eyelashes. "Will you, sire?"
Lord Matsushita answered her question with a smile. Her heart thundered. His smile had temporarily captivated her attention. She froze when the lord leaned toward her, cupped her face, and captured her lips with his. This display of affection was only practiced by the yellow-haired barbarians from the West, and it was uncommon for Japanese people. Luckily, Nishio had enlightened her about this, so Yukiko knew what she had to do. She surrendered under his ministration and timidly reciprocated his kiss. But nothing that Nishio had said had prepared her for the effect from the kiss. All the bones in her body melted as his tongue stroked deep into the moist cavern of her mouth.

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In The Belly of the Night Collection by Jonathan Wright

In The Belly of the Night (Collection)
by Jonathan Wright


Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-219-7
Genre(s): Collections
Length: Collection



http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1159

Blurb:

Refugees...
Joe Horn emerged from the twisted mental lapse of 'Nam thirty years ago tired and scarred and a little whacked, running like hell from a nightmare. For the last three decades he's lived life on the edge, never stopping, never making friends, never aging. And never, ever sleeping.
Until he meets Sarah Fenton, a razor-edged reporter with secrets within her secrets. Sarah stalks Horn, hunting for a great story -- and something more. A compelling, voluptuous dream of intense sensual pleasure, she sets off all his alarm bells and makes him sweat with pure passionate hunger for the one thing he knows he can never have.
And there's one more...
Muck Drippy Thing comes from the Other Side, entering through a rift in the curtain between Here and There. He hangs out in the shadowy corner of narrow alleys, moves silently through the quiet night, slides wetly through the open window, delivering nightmarish hell and screaming death. He breathes bile and feeds on his victims' blind terror, and always follows Horn. Always.
Why? Just because.
Their paths cross like bloody trails on a Ouija board, and no place, not Here, or There, or the Netherworld, will ever be the same...

Publisher's Note: This collection contains three previous published novellas, In The Belly of the Night, Nightwalker, and Promises to Keep.

Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Miss July, green-eyed, lithe and seductive, had returned.
Joe Horn sat outside the Croissant Place, feet propped up on a chair, reading the Tribune, sipping a mug of steaming coffee. Meat for the predator.
He caught glimpses of the emerald-eyed succubus as she carefully stalked her prey. Stalking me. Yes. Not overtly. Instinctively. It's something she does without thought.
Paranoia, leavened with a measure of grim experience, drove his instinctive assessment. He watched her, surreptitiously, and with a certain amount of prurient interest. He imagined popping the buttons of her blouse and sucking those ripe tits.
In a far, dark corner of his mind, prompted by this line of thought, the Beast stirred.
On Columbus Day the crowd at the Harborside Mall lacked the usual noise and clamor. The usual mess of screaming kids, giggling teenagers and exhausted men and women dragged themselves from one store to the next, but the retailers sweated. The summer had been bad. In a so-called booming economy a lot of people, like Joe Horn, had next to no money.
Unlike those to whom appearance was all, his chosen look was down-and-out chic. Army surplus fatigue pants and a field jacket, thoroughly broken in. Which is to say, ragged, with patches. Beat up running shoes, showing miles of wear. Good quality, though. Major budget item.
A family walked by. Mom with shades perched on frosted hair, Dad looking comfortably rumpled in an Eddie Bauer way. Two kids, a girl in a stroller and a boy toddling. Mom's laser eyes hunted bargains. Dad sighed. Toddler had to go to the baffroom. Made the elusive th into ff and then ffff, a spray of spittle. Giggled at his own rapier wit.
Mom pointed, issuing directives to Dad, who did the sigh thing again. Mom and the stroller arced into Ms Professional. Dad picked up the toddler and headed for the baffroom. He had a bit more lift in his step, maybe thinking of a detour to Sears, where he could spend a few minutes ogling a voluptuous band saw.
In contrast to the slightly paunchy dad, Horn was on the lean side. Unlike the glassy-eyed followers of the latest diet fad, Joe Horn had come by his leanness in other ways. Like sweating in the lee of a bridge abutment while something that breathed bile and moved with the sound of mud flowing searched for him. Like creeping quietly in the dark, hoping to sneak by the place where death was just a sigh. Like running down a pitch-black alley with something fast and lethal on his tail, praying he didn't run into more of the same. A fellow could sweat off a few pounds that way.
Miss July cruised like a mako along the storefronts: Periwinkle's. The Old Bag. The Short Shop. Successfully evaded the Mrs. Fields gill net, focused on her prey.
Horn turned to the sports section. Atlanta came from behind, beat the Pirates in the tenth, evened the playoffs.
It wasn't like he'd never seen her before. That was the problem. The memory lingered, enticing him, like a hint of perfumed cyanide, like a shy smile that hid lethal fangs.
C'mon, Horn, she's a babe, not Muck-Drippy thing. The differences are pretty obvious. Like, you can count her arms...
He'd liked her eyes, from the moment he saw her, even though the initial impact had been frightening. He had a thing about eyes. Windows to the soul and all that.
Yeah, nice eyes. And a killer body, let's not forget about that. Tits to die for… Whoops, bad choice of words… He allowed himself that bit of fantasy. It wasn't every day that a chick with a pneumatic chest chose to hunt him down.
The Beast, on the other hand, regarded her with quiescent, simmering dislike. It didn't care if the stranger looked like Miss July, which in fact she did. Appearances could deceive. Deceptions could kill. The Beast did not parse clever phrases or weigh the potential meaning of a subtle inflection. The Beast's job was simple. Stay alive.
Mom emerged, staggering under captured treasures, went looking for the troops. Somebody's gotta carry all this stuff.
Miss July dodged right and left through the crowd, like Gayle Sayers slipping through the Rams front four. Sato would have liked the way she moved. He had always valued fluidity over power.
Good old Sato. Horn's sensei. Sato had a little dojo in Japan, in the mountains. Very pristine. Very beautiful. Very rugged. Very fucking cold at night. Horn had spent a few nights outside, up there at eight thousand feet, watching for the furtive movement, listening for the delicate step. Screaming obscenities when Sato inevitably caught him napping and beat the shit out of him with the Stick.
When Horn first arrived at the dojo, he'd been afraid. His fear had begun as a child, had grown through adulthood, had blossomed like a blood red rose, in a scummy bog in Vietnam, one night when the moon waned and a hideous stick figure rose out of the black water and ate seven men.
A long time ago, in a land far, far away, but their screams still haunted him thirty years after the fact. Even though they had been about to kill him. No one deserved to die the way they died.
Sato taught Horn how to control his fear. Mostly the fear of Sato, hiding behind trees and bushes, waiting with the Stick.
Horn hated the fucking Stick.
He snapped open the metro section. Man strangled his wife because she served his oatmeal cold. Horn smiled thinly. Human interest stories were his favorite.
Miss July swooped in, took the seat across from him. Let out a sigh. Pulled out her notebook. Brushed a bang out of her big green eyes. Clicked the pen. "I talked to a man who says you blew up a bar in Texas."
"Really." Horn turned the page.
She might have introduced herself, but he already knew her name. Sarah Fenton, a reporter doing a story on the homeless. She'd found him yesterday. She had nice hair, short and thick. Moved like a dancer, accentuating her sleek body. His puerile mind invented means of disrobing her. The possibility of making her do it herself, for his considerable pleasure, momentarily clouded his mind. He noticed she was bra-less under a fairly thin top. His eyes strayed to her rather prominent nipples.
He sensed she was immediately aware, and not repulsed.
But the Beast murmured fear her. He usually listened to the Beast. He resolved to do so this time. Besides, he had other things to do. People were dying.
He'd chased her off last time with one of his wacko routines, mumbling about God's Wrath On Heathen Puppies. But now she'd returned, and she knew about the bar in Texas.
She nodded briskly, checking items off. "Yep. Then there was a truck stop in Nevada. And..." she paused as she confirmed her careful research, "... a warehouse in Seattle."
He grimaced inwardly. The grapevine was unreal. "Well, some architecture is an affront to good taste."
"Crap."
He shrugged. "That's what I just said."
She tried a different tack. "I also found out you're a Vietnam vet --" She frowned, looked up at him, then down at her notes again. "That doesn't make sense."
He raised one eyebrow without looking at her. "Smartest thing you've said so far."
She ignored that. "That conflict ended in seventy-five -- twenty-eight years ago. You'd have to be at least fifty, maybe fifty-five years old."

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