Friday, October 31, 2008

Excerpt: Altar of Anubis

Altar of Anubis
by Ann Vremont
Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-104-6
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Interracial, Ménage, Bisexual and More
Length: Novella


Interrupting a burglary, antiquities expert Rene Walker discovers sometimes you have to die to find true love. But a gorgeous male pledging his eternal devotion isn’t all that awaits her on the other side. To enjoy eternity, Rene will have to thwart an ancient enemy who has waited millennia to destroy her and come to terms with an inflexible custom of free love in an immortal society where men outnumber the women ten to one.


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.

Rene Walker had consulted on at least two dozen movie sets since completing her master’s degree in classical studies, but this was the first one to be dressed with genuine antiquities. Getting a museum’s board of directors and an insurance company to agree at the same time was impossible. But Datura’s marketing director had somehow worked a deal with a private collector, and most of the items borrowed would be part of a fifteen-city tour when the film opened.
There would be security guards then, and velvet ropes. For most of the items, tonight’s only protection was a double padlocked door and sealed crates. But it wasn’t the cat statues and gold scarabs making her hands sweat.
That honor went to the room’s centerpiece -- the Altar of Anubis. Made from polished black basalt, it was almost seven feet long and three feet wide.
And she’d bet her degree it was a fake.
Stopping in front of the altar, she eased the bag onto the floor. The heat had turned her hair into a frizzy mass of copper strands, and she pulled a rubber band from her pants pocket. She secured her hair in a ponytail, then bent down and unzipped the bag. Inside were a small hand drill and bits, a voice recorder, empty glass vials, a laser level and rangefinder and, on loan from the local university, a portable spectrometer. She hooked the voice recorder to her ear and switched it on.
She stood back up and placed her hands palm down on the altar’s cold surface. It certainly felt time-worn, the stone having an almost sensual smoothness to it. Slowly, she ran her hands over it, leaning in and closing her eyes. She wanted to believe it was the real thing, to imagine the hundreds who had been sacrificed or embalmed on it. But the properties were off. For starters, the shipping weight was too heavy, suggesting a density four times what it should have been. And the owner had never allowed its inspection.
“Magnificent, isn’t it, Ms. Walker? It’s the one thing in my collection I’m keeping.”
Rene spun around to find Michael Tajnoor watching her with a sharp smile. Behind him another man carried a black suitcase. Both men were dressed in black all the way down to crepe-soled shoes.
“How’d you get in?” She glanced down at Tajnoor’s hand, wished she hadn’t when she realized he was clutching a black ski mask.
Tajnoor jerked his head in the stranger’s direction. “Mr. Tomsin is a man of many talents -- locks, cameras, aging lot guards.” Casually, Tajnoor tossed the mask at her face, ruthlessly grabbing her by the hair when she made the mistake of trying to catch it.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Walker.” His smile deepened, and Rene heard the snick of a knife opening. “But I have a schedule to follow and you’re fucking it up.”
The stab was quick and sure, delivered dispassionately but with a force that buried the blade. She tried to lift her hands, to grab at his arm and the handle sticking out of her chest. Tajnoor shushed her efforts, pushed her backwards until she was falling onto the altar.
Taking the voice recorder from Rene’s ear, he pocketed it, his gaze never leaving her face. Vision fading, she saw him gesture at Tomsin. “Those linens, bring them to me.”
Tajnoor sounded like he was ordering lunch service. Sightless, she heard the blade withdraw with a wet, sluicing noise, followed by the snap of cloth and the push of air against her face. As the sheet settled over her, she thought about Beth, her intern, and how the woman should have cut the cloth into strips already.
The last sound to reach her was Tajnoor, his words framed on each side by a deep chuckle. “There, let them think it’s one of her props. We’ll have our money before anyone knows she’s dead.”

Monday, October 27, 2008

Hot River: Second Chance Charity by Kate Hill

Hot River: Second Chance Charity
by Kate Hill

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-083-4
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Werewolves, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: Hot River
Length: Novella


Charity, Queen of the fierce Hot River Werewolf pack, has reason to hate men. Enslaved by one as a child, turned by another as a woman, she’s got issues. But being a werewolf isn’t one of them. She’s been making the most of her cursed existence, until a run in with the man who turned her makes her question the path she’s chosen.
Deep in the Wicked Wild, she meets Shane. Half Elf, half Wildman, Shane makes her question everything she thinks she knows about men -- and sex. The attraction between them is electric. In spite of his origins Shane had a tender side that’s hard to resist, even for the Werewolf Queen. Can he convince Charity to take a second chance at love?


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.

Charity had never dreamed she could be so weak and dishonest.
She stood by a brook that ran near the clearing her pack called home. Glancing around, she saw her women -- some in wolf form, others in their human skin, mingling in the village. They sparred on the dirt floor of the forest, cleaned and prepared meat from the hunt and went about their daily lives, seeming not to care that just yesterday their queen had cheated them out of their much-deserved revenge.
Every werewolf in the pack had been cursed by the same man. Hugo had enticed them, fucked them and, with his love, forced them to change from women to beasts with every full moon. Together they had formed this pack and learned to master their curse so they could call upon the wolf inside them any time they chose. Though in many ways their curse had become a gift, they had sworn vengeance against Hugo.
After so long they had captured him and had been on the verge of making him pay for his animal lust only to be thwarted by a woman Charity had foolishly loved like a member of her pack.
Charity growled deep in her chest. Her fists clenched and pain shot through her injured arm. During the battle, her opponent had broken her arm. Though because of her shapeshifting ability Charity was well on her way to healing, she couldn’t shake the feeling of self-disgust. Not because she’d been wounded, but because of the reasons why.
“Charity,” Magda, her second-in-command, interrupted.
Charity glanced up at the naked brown-haired woman who approached. Like the others in the pack, she wore no clothes. They weren’t necessary in the Wicked Wild, at least not in their territory. The female wolf pack ruled this part of the forest and, until yesterday, had defended themselves well.
“No one holds what happened against you. Sadie challenged you for Hugo’s life and she won the battle. You set them both free and now it’s over. You don’t have to leave.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, Charity tried to keep her temper in check. These women didn’t fully comprehend what had happened. “Yes, I do have to leave.”
“Anyone can lose a battle. Sadie is a strong warrior.”
“I know what she is. I made her,” Charity said bitterly.
Sadie, a gifted magical practitioner, had come to her years ago with an avid interest in shapeshifters. The women had taken an instant liking to each other and Sadie had been invited to live with the pack. After much convincing, Charity had agreed to give Sadie the power of the werewolf. They had been close, then Sadie had become her wolf daughter.
Sadie knew how the female pack had been cursed. She knew all about the pain Hugo had caused them, yet she had still chosen to harbor the bastard in her house, attempting to rehabilitate him and show him how to control his power.
“If the women felt you were wrong or that justice wasn’t served, we would have gone against pack law and killed Hugo and Sadie anyway. During the short time we held him captive, we took our revenge on his hide. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but…”
“What?” Charity demanded.
“I’m not the only member of this pack to believe he seemed to regret what he did to us.”
“Don’t be weak, Magda. That’s how he got to you in the first place. Feigning sweetness. You know he showed each of us what we wanted to see and told us what we wanted to hear. We entered his bed women and left wolves. Do you think because he pretends to be sorry for what he did that he deserves to be forgiven?”
The women held each other’s gaze for several seconds, then Charity looked away. That was a first. Usually she could stare down anyone.
Perhaps because she knew she was lying again. She was accusing Magda of doing what she had done, except for Charity it was worse. She was their queen. It had been her duty to avenge them, and she had failed. There was no forgiveness for her, just as there should have been none for Hugo.
Magda sighed. “Maybe it is a good idea for you to go away and sort things out.”
Charity turned to her and nodded. “You’re a great warrior, Magda, and a wise woman. You’ll probably be a far better queen than I have been.”
“You are still our queen,” Magda said with conviction. “I’ve talked to the other women and they agree. When you return, you will take your rightful place as leader of our pack. I will simply watch over our territory until then.”
Drawing a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Charity tilted her face upward, squinting at the sunlight shining through spaces between the leaves at the tops of the tall trees.
“When will you leave?” Magda asked.
“Good luck.”
“Keep the pack safe and strong.”
“You have my word.”

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Imperative: Always You by Belinda McBride

Imperative: Always You
by Belinda McBride

cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-090-2
Genre(s): Futuristic
Theme(s): Bisexual and More
Series: Imperative
Length: Novella


In the future, we don't choose our mates; Nature chooses for us. Nature doesn't make mistakes. And if you don't pay attention to Nature's Imperative, you suffer.

She could always get under his skin. He could always send her spinning into fury. Marilyn and Neil aren’t like oil and water, they’re like dynamite and a fuse! Not only do these co-workers hate each other, but Mari’s still in love with her ex-husband, and Neil? Well, Neil is gay.
Nature’s got some explaining to do.


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 really could kill you right now.”
Marilyn stood, arms crossed, glaring as the high-tech printing unit choked and then froze. Anxiously, she glanced at the clock. She had a good hour before the office began to wake up for the day. This early morning privacy was her most creative time. No staff, no bosses, and most important: no Neil.
She could sit at her drafting unit and touch up the art she’d started the day before, edit the copy, get everything prepped for the critical eye of her design partner. The bane of her existence. She had no idea whose bright idea it had been to pair the two. They weren’t like oil and water. More like dynamite and a match. And Marilyn had a short fuse.
“You break it again?”
Marilyn jumped as a hand dropped on her shoulder. She turned to glare at the handsome man invading her space. Not that he did it out of interest. It was simple arrogance. Just for her benefit. He knew she hated to be touched. Specifically, by him.
“What…” She took a deep breath, remembering her last round of anger management. “Neil. You’re early.” A smile just wasn’t there for him. It never had been. When she stopped to think about it, she wondered why on Earth this man got under her skin so easily. She sometimes felt as though her world revolved around being angry at Neil. Her husband had said that she loved hating Neil more than she loved her own husband.
Well, they’d certainly put that to the test. She still hated Neil, and the jury was out on Dale.
She resumed glaring at the machine. Surely, it would do something sometime? Besides, it was better than looking at Neil in his crisp summer suit and shower damp hair. She really didn’t want him standing here when the print spit out. It was just a raw idea, far from ready for production. But he wouldn’t care, all he’d see was disproportion and rough edges. His work was never rough.
His shit probably didn’t stink either.
“Thought I’d see how this early bird thing works out.” He shrugged out of his caramel colored linen jacket and headed for their shared office. In moments he was back, pushing up his sleeves, popping the machine open at the side. For long moments, he made typical male sounds, “mmhhhmmm” and “ahhhh.” Finally, he scooted back on that fine ass of his, crossing his arms over his knees. “Going to have to wait for IT.”
He gave her a grin and rose a bit stiffly, wincing as he stood.
“You okay?” She didn’t want to be concerned, but the guy was usually pretty spry. In fact, for a pretty boy he was damned athletic. She frowned at a purple bruise that circled his wrist. It matched a larger one on his forearm. Carefully, Neil pushed his sleeves down, buttoning the cuffs.
“What happened to your arms?” Now that she was looking, she saw a slight abrasion on his neck, running up to his jaw. Hopefully, she sounded curious rather than concerned.
“Not really your concern, Marilyn.” He ran a hand through his carefully cut hair, natural gold highlights catching the office light. His usual arrogant mask settled over his features.
Shut her down cold and lit her short fuse in a single stroke.
Marilyn spun on her high heels and stalked away, barely restraining the urge to slam the office door in her wake. She so did not need this! Not now. Fucking prima donna…
He headed off to the break room and coffee pot, while she fumed in front of her graphic screen. They’d be here alone for the next hour, no clerks to buffer their tension, no bosses telling them to play nice. But it was Thursday, and she was leaving early, taking Friday off. Things to do, bridges to burn, that sort of thing. She breathed deeply, forcing her anger into submission.
Marilyn opened a new screen and started on the copy for a new article.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Mastering Mirage by Leila Brown

Mastering Mirage
by Leila Brown

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-015-5
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Sci-Fi, BDSM
Theme(s): Shapeshifters
Series: Super Sex
Length: Novella


Soundwave had always assumed that she was an only child, but she was wrong. Her two sisters have found out about her existence and they are searching the galaxy to find her.
Mirage has spent her entire life hiding behind her power to create illusions. Shielding both her and her sister from the world and her heart from pain. But when their search for Soundwave casts them as unwilling participants in a mating ritual for a planet full of manticores, illusions will do them little good. Now, they aren’t searching for a lost sister, they’re fighting for their freedom.
Rynund chose his mate from the scantily-clad space-order mates not for her beauty but for her tight-lipped defiance. He was sure she would lead him on a merry chase. What he didn’t expect was for her to steal a spaceship and lead him off-world. The hunt is on. Too bad for her, hunting is what a manticore does best!


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.
“Welcome to Yarthax. The Claiming Ceremony is about to begin. Please follow me.” A tall, willowy woman with waist-length brown hair, blue eyes and soft voice welcomed them. She led the way down a long, worn path in the lush grass. Mirage sucked in her breath as they stepped into a clearing. From their first look at the planet she’d expected something primitive. Not this.
There was a large metal stage. Lights. Her breath froze in her chest as she spied the ten chairs on the platform. This wasn’t good. Shit. Mischief’s gasp came seconds after hers. “Do something,” her sister whispered.
“What would you suggest? I don’t know where everyone is. They all need to be in the same place for this to work.” Mirage looked around hoping that no one could hear them.
Music drifted from the nearby woods.
“Mirage.” The panic in her sister’s voice sent Mirage’s heart into massive erratic spurts.
“Please lift a glass with me. It will calm your nerves,” the woman said as they came upon a tray with eleven glasses filled with a golden liquid.
Several women lifted their glasses and drained them. Mirage eyed her sister and knew that with their dark hair, ivory skin and honey-colored eyes they were going to stand out and attract a lot of attention on that stage. They lifted their glasses to their lips. There was no question what she needed to do here. She gathered her power and presented an image of both of them drinking the liquid. As soon as the woman turned away from them, the girls emptied their glasses on the ground in front of them.
“Now,” the woman said. More women came from out of nowhere. They were in serious trouble.
A woman grabbed hold of Mirage’s arm and led her up to the stage. The other women walked slowly and didn’t look around. Drugged, most likely. The native women left each of them standing in front of a chair. Then they walked around to stand at the base of the stage.
“Just play along for now. Don’t let them know you aren’t drugged,” Mirage whispered out of the side of her mouth.
“Put up a damn screen so we can get out of here.”
“What if there are more people in the trees nearby?”
Mischief muttered something but Mirage couldn’t make it out. “Shhhh.” Mirage looked to the left, then the right without moving her head. “No, this is different. We don’t just want to get back on The Bridal Boat. We need to find another ship and get off the planet without running into any problems.”
People emerged from the wooded area near the base of the stage. The beat of the drums got louder. Fuck. Time was running out. Soon they would lose their chance to escape. More men and women stepped through the bushes. Shit. It looked like time had run out.
“Just play along,” she told Mischief. “When we get a chance, we’re out of here.” They couldn’t afford to rush this. One chance was all they were going to get.
Men poured from the bushes. They walked up to the foot of the stage but didn’t climb up. Mirage tried not to stare at them. They were at least six and a half feet tall and each one more handsome than the last. Why would they use the services of The Bridal Boat? It didn’t make any sense.
“Choose,” a loud female voice boomed over the crowd.
Mirage held her breath, expecting the crowd to rush the stage, but no one in the crowd moved. A procession of ten men came up a ramp on the left side of the stage. Mirage stared straight ahead, but as the men walked in front of her she couldn’t help marveling over their looks.
Heat raced up her sides as the men stepped closer to her. She bit down on her lip to keep from looking at Mischief, but she could see they were running out of women. This time they would be chosen. Mirage watched as two men stepped up to her sister and claimed her.
She almost crossed her eyes to keep from moving as they guided Mischief in front of her. There would be nowhere for them to hide if they hurt her sister. She would drive them into insanity. This was extremely different from the other planets they’d visited. There was rarely more than one person chosen at a time and there definitely hadn’t been any voyeuristic atmosphere.
Mirage blinked several times before her eyes widened. Shit. Her head whipped up to glance at the man by her side. He looked down at her with amusement dancing in his amber eyes. He knew. That bastard knew she wasn’t in a trance.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Mission: Touchdown by Mary Winter

Mission: Touchdown
by Mary Winter

Cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-950-7
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Series: Live Action Hero
Length: Novella


Van’s torn between going back to law school to finish his degree or staying on as a partner in The Fantastic Five. He loves restoring old action figures, and the one he’s working on is special. He finishes the work, wishing the decision before him was as easy as the football games he used to play. When he’s awakened in the middle of the night, instead of the intruder he expected, he finds his action figure has come to life and brought with him a whole new set of complications.
Brice knows the key to Van’s decision lies inside him. All he has to do is follow his heart. But getting a lawyer to trust his emotions is about as easy as making first down on fourth and twenty. It’s a mission Brice will gladly accept. Because once the pass is completed, it’s an easy touchdown.


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.
Perched on a stool, a law book open on the table beside him, Van rummaged through the plastic container holding the civilian action figure clothes. Frankly, he had no idea why the hell he was back here, except he’d helped his buddies get legal papers for their lovers and he wanted in on the action too. Van snorted. He had other things to think about, like whether he could return to college and continue working for The Fantastic Five. Whether his friends would think he’d deserted them, if he couldn’t do both things and chose college over them.
He found and discarded at least four pairs of khaki pants. Didn’t anyone make jeans that fit the larger twelve-inch action figures? He might have to scour the online auction sites again to rebuild their stock. Apparently, his friends’ lovers were repairing action figures at a record pace. Probably hoping to bring more of their friends back to life.
A flash of yellow spandex at the bottom of the box caught his attention. Pulling out the pants, he realized they were part of a football uniform. Hey, now that might have possibilities. Looking at the broken brown-haired figure on the bench beside him, he could easily see the toy in a sports uniform. Van dug a bit deeper in the box and came up with a set of shoulder pads and a uniform shirt.
“Guess you’re going to be a football player,” Van said, laughing at the fact that he spoke to the plastic man. Even if he came alive -- and from where Van sat that was a huge if -- he had too many things going on to add a lover to the mix. Though it sure would be nice to feel a man’s touch, if he wanted that, he could go to any number of college bars in town. Surely some young law student would want a bit of tutoring and could come up with payment. Van grinned as he grabbed a second bin full of accessories. If he went back to college, maybe he’d have a love life.
He lifted a football and helmet from the bin, finding a pair of hip pads shortly thereafter. A pair of cleats from the plastic box holding shoes, and the guy’s uniform would be complete.
It’d be nice to wear a uniform again.
Van shook his head. That voice wasn’t his. It sounded different, like opposing counsel standing across the room talking to him during a trial. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples. Too much thinking, not enough action. Maybe he should just get out of here and go do something.
He stared at the football outfit sitting on the bench next to him. Even though the figure was obviously broken, he dressed it, careful to keep the body from falling into its two pieces. He slid the helmet over the toy’s brown hair. There, nearly perfect.
This figure needed this uniform.
Van had no idea how he knew that, or where the thought had come from. Looking at the toy, dressed in the white and gold football uniform, Van knew that this figure had been built for this role. Too bad they didn’t have any use for it in their campaign, but they were a comic shop, not a sports collectible one. And besides, Hugh had Talon, who seemed destined to become The Fantastic Five’s exclusive model.
“Now if you were real, I could totally handle that.” Van grinned, already imagining the figure brought to life, shirtless, his hip pads poking up from beneath his spandex pants. Van would kneel between the man’s spread thighs, tracing the contours of his abs and obliques. The drawstring tantalized him, inviting Van to tug it and open the pants. Rising onto his knees, he’d trace the man’s jaw, then draw his head down to his.
Van’s cock hardened with the thought. He bit back a groan thinking about the tangle of tongues and the stroke of fingers against flesh. A tug at the drawstring, unhooking the pads, and an adjustment of sports equipment, and he could cup the man’s cock in his hands. He’d palm it, stroking him from base to tip, then back again, pausing only to capture the bead of moisture emerging from the tip.
Somehow they’d manage to stand, and stumble, kissing and groping, to the shower. There, they’d take turns soaping each other, paying attention to the bruises and sore muscles a full-contact game like football could leave behind. Then, in the empty locker room, he’d drop to his knees and take the man’s cock into his mouth.
Van’s breath shuddered. The salty taste of the man’s pre-come would fill his mouth, just like his balls would provide a nice handful. Reaching behind them, Van would tease the sensitive skin until the man moaned, the sound echoing with the running water in the empty shower room.
Yeah, that’d be nice.
The voice startled Van out of his reverie. Damn, he must really be losing it if he was hearing things.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Boolicious by KZ Snow

by K.Z. Snow

cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-008-7
Genre(s): Humor and Satire
Theme(s): Vampires, Magic and Mayhem, Seasonal Themes, Halloween
Length: Novella


Often, breaking up with a boyfriend is a blessing in disguise. Sometimes, being stuck with crazy relatives is the same thing.
Hannah Blue didn’t think so after she made an ill-advised bet with her Aunt Kate, a bawdy old hippie and self-styled witch. A little too much wine had made Hannah cocky enough to think she could get laid by November 1 and, in so doing, become a hundred dollars richer. But it isn’t turning out that way; Hannah’s picky about men.
As the bet’s deadline draws near, Aunt Kate decides to give her niece a little behind-the-scenes help. She wants Hannah to have a restorative roll in the hay and win that C-note.
But even a weird and wild Halloween swingers’ party doesn’t bring a man Hannah’s way. Horny and glum, she decides to boost her spirits by strolling down the streets of her neighborhood and enjoying Trick-or-Treat night. She eventually tags along with a trio of unescorted kids. It’s a pleasant, innocent diversion that helps Hannah resign herself to being a loser.
Until, at one house, a man wearing a vampire cape and tiny red briefs comes flying out the door…and proves the most delectable piece of candy -- and the best way to win a bet -- Hannah could ever have imagined.


They'd covered maybe three blocks, zigzagging from one side of the street to another, when they approached a small, red-brick bungalow. Emily charged up the porch steps with her usual enthusiasm, crying "Trick or treat!" all the way.
The door opened just as Hannah and the boys joined her. No smiling matron holding a candy basket appeared. Instead, a large, dark mass flew out of the house. Emily squealed. Startled, they all scrambled backward down the steps and withdrew to the railings.
The dark form was a man. A man in an opera cape—black satin on the outside, red on the inside—with a deeply scalloped, upturned collar and a bat attached by a spring to one shoulder. The cape was skewed off to one side, the bat bobbing and weaving like Muhammad Ali.
When the man regained his footing, he straightened his garment, swiped both palms over his hair, and faced the four people on the porch steps. "Uh . . . boo."
Dumbfounded, the four trick-or-treaters stared at him.
Emily looked up at her brother. "Can I keep `im?"
"He's too big for your bag, dork." Jeremy pointed at Hannah, who stood at the opposite railing. "Better let her keep him."
What the hell? Mouth agape, she stared at the man. Beneath the cape he wore only the skimpiest red briefs. A green glow came from his mouth. What the hell?
"Were you s'posed to scare us?" Emily asked. "Do you live here?"
The man looked embarrassed. "No."
"What didja do?" Emily asked him. "Are you a robber? Didja get caught? Is that why they threw you out?"
The man cleared his throat. "That's one way of putting it."
"So what are you hiding in your mouth? You better give it back."
"I'm not hiding anything. Those are my teeth." He bared his glow-in-the-dark, fanged plastic uppers. "I'm a vampire."
Jeremy chuffed. "Dracula didn't walk around in his shorts."
"Yeah, well, I'm his poor brother, Zacula. Can't afford formal wear, just underwear."
Hannah snorted a poorly suppressed laugh. She curled a hand over her mouth and looked down.
"Hey," Grif said, pointing at him, "your bat's starting to droop."
"That's not all." The man slid a glance at Hannah, who just at that moment happened to be sliding a glance at his—droop or no droop—well filled-out scarlet briefs. Self-consciously, he pulled the cape around his midsection.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Sexy Games by Madeline Oh

Sexy Games
by Madeleine Oh
cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-074-2
Genre(s): BDSM
Series: Games
Length: Novella
An appetizer to die for…
It looked like being a boring party, but a tall, dark haired, sexy man changed all that. Accepting his suggestion that they skip out on the assembled company, Jenny agrees, for a evening of spectacular sex. But Basil Wallace wants more than a one-night stand. He plans on tying Jenny down -- in more ways than one.
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.

“Hang on!” Nina called as Jenny pulled up in front of the house. “Tom and his friend are here. Let them give you a hand.”
“Super!” And there was Tom Baldwin in all his glory, wicked grin under the no doubt enhanced these days sandy blond mop.
“Jenny!” Tom enveloped her in a lovely hug and his kiss was just right. Enough to surface a few nice memories without resurrecting the shock to her naiveté. “Lovely to see you.”
It was. But much, much lovelier was the man she glimpsed over Tom’s shoulder. “Hello.” Her voice came out a rather tight squeak as she eased out of Tom’s embrace.
“Going to share, old man?” the stranger asked. It was a rich sexy voice, a curl your toes and flip your innards voice. Gad! That smile could melt glass marbles.
“Oh! Baz! Forgot you were there.”
How could anyone, even a rather self-absorbed TV star, forget the male specimen who stood less than an arm’s length behind? Jenny took a deep breath, held out her hand. “I’m Jenny Everly.”
“Basil Wallace.”
Dear heaven, the only Basils she’d come across were Fawlty and Brush, and neither came anywhere close. She looked up into dark blue eyes and grinned. So much for being all cool and soigné. “You came down for the party?” A clue to the connection would be handy here.
“I came down to keep an eye on Tom.”
Good one! She wished she could manage a sexy, enigmatic sort of smile but damn… “That will keep you busy all night.”
“Not too busy, I hope.”
So did she.
“Come on, man! Let’s get this lot unloaded for Jenny.”
And then, of course, she had to stare as Basil Wallace unbuttoned his cuffs with long, tanned fingers and rolled up his shirtsleeves. The sight of muscular forearms was a complimentary extra. His movements were swift and precise, but it didn’t take much to imagine those hands being equally precise but very, very slow. As for the smile that curled his wide mouth…
“Won’t take us long,” Basil said. “Is the van locked?”
Took her a good five seconds to process that with her lust-invaded brain. “Yes, let me get it.” She held out the key fob and pressed the release button. Tom opened the doors to reveal trays of canapés and savories all stacked on their narrow racks.
“And she cooks too!” Baz said, almost under his breath.
Almost, but not quite. Cheeky bugger! Just because she ogled him at first sight didn’t give him the right to get fresh. “You’ve no idea what I can do,” she replied, sliding a tray of shrimp tartlets and smoked salmon rolls from the van and turning sharply to head for the house.
“Let me get that,” Baz said, a half smile -- an apology perhaps? -- curving one side of his mouth.
“No, I have it. Take another one.” Without looking back she headed across the path and through the kitchen door.
“Jenny, dear,” Mrs. Baldwin said. “Lovely to see you, and wonderful of your mother to rustle up all these. She’s incredible.”
Jenny agreed, but it seemed a bit off to say so. “Hello, Mrs. Baldwin. Where’s the extra fridge?”
“In the laundry room.”
Jenny slid her tray into the fridge and turned to see Basil and Tom on her heels. She took their trays and shelved them. Tom nipped out for another, but Basil hesitated. “Coming to the party?” he asked.
“Oh, yes.”
“Good,” he replied, as he walked out.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Call of the Wild by Sierra Dafoe

Call of the Wild
by Sierra Dafoecover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-079-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure
Theme(s): Ménage, Werewolves
Series: Call of the Wild
Length: Novella


Welcome to Wolf Creek Cove…
In an isolated area of northern Manitoba lives an unusual breed of wolf. They are the Shumani, the wolves who walk as men. But the longer they go without contact with humans, the more they regress into wild wolves.
Larak and his den-brother Kam watched helplessly as the Shumani dwelling in the hills above Wolf Creek were taken over by Hunt, a vicious black wolf who will do anything to retain control of the pack. Now, with the arrival of the only human they've seen since cubhood, Larak and Kam vow to end Hunt's domination.
Sarah Hartwell, domestic disaster and wolf aficionado, has left her fiancé to spend eight months studying the wolves. Little does she know she will become a pawn in the battle for control of the Shumani -- a pawn Hunt is determined to remove from the game.
Can Larak and Kam convince her to give up a safe, secure life among her own kind for one of danger, passion and the call of the wild?


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 swear to God, Sarah, you’re the only woman I know who can burn water. John’s words grated in her mind like the nagging, insistent whine of the Cessna’s engine. As if pushed by an unseen hand the little plane lurched upward, and Sarah Hartwell’s stomach did a slow, unpleasant roll.
“Good one there, eh?” Piers Anders, piloting the bush plane easily with one hand on the yoke, flashed her a grin.
Weakly, Sarah tried to return it, then sighed. Leaning her cheek against the vibrating glass of the window, she stared absently at the endless miles of forest rolling past below, seeing instead the way John’s face had darkened as she’d picked up the phone to hear Piers’ voice on the other end.
It’s him, isn’t it? John’s eyes had narrowed, watching her.
It wasn’t like that, though. It wasn’t. It never had been… although okay, maybe there had been a time when she’d entertained a crush on the tall, rugged man beside her in the cockpit -- a crush he’d never shown the faintest sign of returning.
Which didn’t surprise her -- she was too tall, too gawky. Raw-boned as a plow horse, as her father had put it. Even among the granola-heads of the conservation movement, she’d never met a guy who’d shown the slightest interest in her, preferring to pair up instead with the cute, curvy little volunteers who whined about their aching feet and complained about the weight of their backpacks. Trail-bunnies, Sarah had always called them with thinly-veiled disdain.
Her gaze drifted down to where Piers’ right hand rested on the throttle, a broad gold wedding band gleaming against his deeply tanned skin, and nothing but empty space above the knuckle of his third finger. “When did that happen?”
Glancing down at it, Piers chuckled. “Last spring. Had a little dust-up with a wolverine. Damn things are half pit bull, I swear. Once they get their teeth in you, they don’t let go.”
His expression turned serious, his gaze flicking briefly to her face before he looked back out the windshield, squinting against the afternoon sun. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were new, as well. “You sure about this, Sarah? We can still turn back, you know.”
They could. They could turn around right now, retrace the six hour route south and east to Winnipeg, then the shorter but more jarring flight back to Minneapolis and civilization, back to John and the neat, suburban split-level ranch he’d purchased and moved her into eight days after their engagement. Her castle in the clouds, the fulfillment of every woman’s dream… wasn’t it? Wasn’t it supposed to be exactly that?
Then why in the middle of one more raging fight with John had her heart lifted, soaring like a bird suddenly freed of its cage, at the sound of Piers Anders’s voice on the phone.
John was right, much as it stung to admit -- she couldn’t do anything right. She clogged the vacuum cleaner. She forgot to sort the laundry, turning John’s boxers a dingy slate gray when she’d thrown them in with a new pair of jeans. And, as John had pointed out, his eyes both icy and flashing with annoyance, she was probably the only woman in the world who could burn water.
Maria Anders, Sarah suspected, didn’t burn water. Or order take-out pizza eight nights in a row. Or, she thought ruefully, glancing at Piers’ tee shirt -- as gleaming white as his strong, even teeth -- forget that brand new blue jeans bleed.
She’d met the woman three years ago, at a Christmas party Piers had thrown for the North American Wolf Conservation Council. One look at the tall, statuesque beauty and Sarah had known immediately why, despite all the chances he must have had over the years, Piers Anders had never once wavered in his faithfulness to his wife.
Why couldn’t anyone ever feel that way about her? Okay, so maybe she wasn’t exactly stunning, but still…
Rather than dwell on that depressing subject, Sarah returned her attention to the window. The air was so crystalline she felt she could practically count the spires of pine and fir rushing past below them, broken here and there by gleams of gold and magnificent, blazing splashes of red. The shadow of the plane skated across the hilltops, lengthening and stretching as it chased itself across mile after mile of green, unpopulated forest.
If you leave this time, Sarah… John’s voice had been as flinty as the expression in his eyes. If you leave this time, don’t bother coming back.
Sarah took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “Yeah, Piers. I’m sure.”

Friday, October 17, 2008

Tequila Sunrise: Hurricane by Moira Rogers

Title: Hurricane
Series: Tequila Sunrise

Genre/Line: Werewolves, BDSM, Menage

Author: Moira Rogers
Author URL:
Release Date or Available Now: October 24th

Publisher: Changeling Press

Publisher URL:

Content Warning: Contains graphic sex which may offend some readers.

She was usually graceful, but not tonight. Tonight she was almost clumsy; her body trembled and it took her three tries to line their hips up. She hissed in a breath when she finally got it, sinking down onto his cock hard and fast. Tight, clenching heat surrounded him, and she rocked a little and whimpered when he inched that much deeper.
Kieran arched his neck, his head digging back into the pillows. The long, silky drape of her hair beckoned, so Kieran gathered a handful and tugged lightly. “I said slow, love.”
She moaned and rocked again, lifting up just a few inches before dropping to grind against him. “I need you, Kieran. I need you.”
“I know.” He focused on the curve of her hip under his hand and the heat of her body around his. He barely noticed when Zack rose and approached.
But Eve noticed. She stiffened with another low snarl and stopped moving. “What?”
Zack stopped a few feet from the bed and eyed her, bemused. “Got a problem, Eve?”
“I don’t want to fuck him while you laugh at me.”
Kieran froze as something stormy and wild gathered in Zack’s eyes. Then he blinked and it was gone. “I guess I’ve worn out my welcome, then.” He grabbed his jeans and shook his head. “Good luck with your thing.”
“Wait.” Kieran rose up until his chest pressed to Eve’s back. “You can’t go. There’s --” He bit off a curse. If Zack left, they’d be right back at square one. “There’s got to be something we can do.”
Zack just shook his head again. “Lady doesn’t want me here.”
Eve made a frustrated noise and turned her head until her face was tucked against his cheek. “It’s not funny,” she whispered. “I fight myself and I can’t control it and it’s not funny.”
Kieran could hear Zack grinding his teeth. “I wasn’t laughing at you. But I don’t know what you want me to do.”
Kieran stroked the side of her neck and murmured nonsense until her breathing evened. “Lie down, Eve.” It was a gamble. He didn’t want to upset her further, but he hadn’t yet gotten what he’d come for. “Do it, love.”
She seemed almost relieved as she lifted slowly away from him and relaxed back against the bed. “I don’t want you to go, Zack. I’m just feeling… a little stupid. And it’s making me mean. I’m sorry.”
The tense line of Zack’s shoulders relaxed. “It’s all right.” He cast a quizzical look at Kieran. “What do you have in mind?”
He smiled and nodded to the cabinet at Zack’s side. “Are there any restraints in that thing?”
Eve sucked in a breath next to him, her sudden excitement impossible to miss with her racing heartbeat echoing in his ears. Zack must have heard it, as well, because he grinned. “I like the way you think, Kieran.” He turned and opened the cabinet.
Kieran leaned down to kiss Eve as Zack rummaged through the cabinet. “Anything you’re not okay with?”
“I just want you.” Her fingers curled around the back of his head and she kissed him hard.
The bed dipped, and Kieran looked up to find Zack there with a set of fur-lined leather cuffs. “Here.”
Kieran took them and kissed Eve again as he pulled her wrists above her head and toward the decorative but functional iron loops extending from the headboard. He buckled the cuffs around her wrists, trapping her.
He watched as she tested the restraints, a soft tug at first and then a jerk. He knew the strength that existed in her deceptively slender arms, but the bed and cuffs had been designed to hold stronger creatures then werewolves. The iron loops rattled a little against the headboard but held fast, and Eve let out a soft moan and closed her eyes.
He beckoned Zack with a look. He nodded and dropped his pants again, but left his boxers on. He stretched out on the other side of Eve and caressed her arm and side. “You’re in charge, Kieran,” Zack murmured. “What now?”
Kieran returned his smile and curled a hand around Eve’s hip. “Now we make her forget about the dominance games.”


Sunday, October 12, 2008

Spaceport: Hidden Phase by Lexxie Couper

Spaceport: Hidden Phase
by Lexxie Couper

Cover art by Sahara Kelly
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-094-0
Genre(s): Futuristic, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Ménage, Spaceport
Series: Spaceport Multi-Author
Length: Novel


“Target acquired. Registered name, Sabian Talano.”



“Military service?”


“What have you got on him?”

“Registered name, Sabian Talano.”

“That’s it? No history of any kind?”

“No other information is available at this time.”
No one on Spaceport Adana knows who Sabian Talano really is. Everything about Talano, the head bouncer at the spaceport’s most popular bar, Haze, is shrouded in absolute mystery. All that’s known is this: Don’t piss him off if you want to stay in one piece. Don’t mess with Emylie, his equally mysterious companion, if you want to stay alive. No one knows who Sabian Talano is, and that’s exactly the way he wants it to stay.
So who is the woman in skin-tight red leather called Falynn Mavek who suddenly appears on the spaceport? Who is the massive man with her, she calls Forty-Two? What is she doing on ’Port Adana asking questions about the secretive head bouncer? And why do her eyes burn with hunger when she finally finds him?
Sabian Talano’s dark chilling past is about to catch up with him. And it couldn’t be more dangerous. Or erotic.


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.
Haze, Spaceport AdanaIAC 211“Who’s goin’t make me?”Sabian Talano suppressed a sigh, his stare fixed firmly on the inebriated, slightly swaying Mendovian waving a broken bottle in his face. Every time a new ship docked, every time a new smuggler, illegal trader or bounty hunter landed on ’Port Adana, Sabian had to deal with at least one idiot too intoxicated to realize they were about to get their nose/muzzle/snout broken.Tonight was no exception. The Mendovian with the broken bottle and twitching eye stalks had spent the better part of the evening -- and a shitload of credits -- pouring ale after ale down his throat, boasting to anyone who cared to listen about the haul of Ezelian Dream Spice he’d just snatched from under the IAC’s nose. Mauling the ropki girls, groping the bar staff and hurling insults at K’Mere’s latest rendition of the Zondorian classic “Whip Me” on karaoke.As far as Sabian was concerned, the drunken imbecile should have been ejected from the bar after his second drink, but Hazel -- being a big fan of pissing off the IAC -- had given the smuggler a little more slack than usual.That was, at least, until he’d tried to stick one of his tongues down her throat.“So?” the Mendovian snarled, growing less inebriated and more controlled with each wavering jab of the broken bottle. “Ya goin’t answer me? Who’s goin’t make me leave? You?”Sabian nodded. Once. “Yes.” He moved.At that exact second the Mendovian lunged at him.Mendovians are fast. Sabian was faster. He always was. His fist smashed into the smuggler’s ample gut, his knuckles punching into a thick layer of winter fat and a wall of solid muscle. The Mendovian let out a choked oomph, the sound both hurt and surprised. He doubled over, doing what looked like a hasty and painful attempt to smack his own forehead against his knees.Sabian jerked his fist back, ready to deliver another blow if needed. It rarely was. Once an opponent realized how quick he was, they usually scurried out of the bar, tattered pride dragging behind them. Something about this opponent, however, kept Sabian more on guard. Alert.The bar fell silent, all eyes on the stooped smuggler. A thick air of dread and excitement thrummed through the gawking crowd. The regulars shuffled their feet, casting Sabian knowing looks. They’d seen him fold more than one difficult patron in half. Were they going to see it again? K’Mere skittered off the stage, tail swishing, ears flat, deserting her beloved karaoke for the safety of wherever it was the Kitali escaped to when things in Haze got ugly.Sabian stared at the back of the Mendovian’s head, muscles coiled. Ready. “Don’t do it,” he said. Calm. Composed.Twin eyestalks twitched. Wide shoulders bunched under the Mendovian’s heavy flight jacket.Sabian ground his teeth -- ah, fuck -- and swung his fist, connecting with the smuggler’s jaw the precise moment the Mendovian leapt up from his stoop to charge him.A loud gasp filled the bar. A blinding light swept across the room, somewhere to his left. Sabian bit back a curse. Fuck! Holly Barberossa and her smartcam. His image would be in the Adana Observer for a week!The Mendovian’s limp body arced backward, eyestalks flapping, arms flailing. He hit the floor with a thud, the impact sending a shock wave of dull vibrations up Sabian’s legs. Some SOP foolishly burst into applause a way back in the crowd, Barberossa’s smartcam flashed on again, and the crooning tones of K’Mere wafted from the karaoke stage once more.Sabian shook his head, giving the still and decidedly unconscious Mendovian an indifferent look. Lifting his head, he ignored the sight of the petite but determined Barberossa cutting a path through the crowd toward him and nodded at one of his crew. The Rellian detached himself from the writhing mass of patrons on the dance floor and hurried over.“Get rid of him,” Sabian said, not looking at the motionless Mendovian on the floor. “Put him back on his vessel and arrange a doc to mend his ribs. I’m pretty certain I broke at least five.”Diirch smirked. “Only five? You feeling soft t’night, Boss?”Sabian gave the Rellian, one of the bar’s more witty bouncers, a level stare.Diirch grinned. “Gotcha, Boss. Doing it now. Charging the doc’s bill to the usual account?”Sabian nodded, turning back to the bar. It was late, and he wanted to --“Another patron reluctant to leave, Talano?” Holly Barberossa blocked his path, smartcam zeroing in on his face like a striking serpent. “You dealt with him harder than normal. And faster. Care to offer a quote for the story?”Sabian met the woman’s intense stare. Holly Barberossa had been after his story since the moment he’d arrived on the station. The fact she’d been unable to dig up anything annoyed the shit out of her. It was almost enough to make Sabian smile -- if he didn’t know just how good at her job she was. As it was, she’d made him wary. Thankfully, she’d stayed away from Emylie. So far.She licked her lips, a dogged light in her brilliant blue eyes. “Haze Bouncer or Haze Brutalizer? It’s a catchy title, don’t you think?”Sabian clenched his fists. Fuck. He didn’t need this right now. He just wanted to finish his shift and --“Or maybe I should run with Sabian Talano. The Man with No Past Strikes Again?”“Holly.” ’Port Security Commander Kala Decoltéir suddenly appeared beside the reporter, towering over her. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about the Nil Raja article in last week’s Observer.”Barberossa turned to Decoltéir, irritation mingled with suspicion crossing her face.The security commander flicked Sabian a quick look -- You owe me -- before she took Holly’s elbow in her grip and turned the reporter away from him.Sabian ground his teeth harder. Kala Decoltéir was a brilliant security officer. She knew just as little about him as Barberossa did, but until recently didn’t seem bothered by the fact. Apart from offering him a job on her team when he’d first arrived, an offer he’d refused, she’d left him alone. He knew she kept an eye on him. Someone his size with his obvious skills was never going to pass under her radar, but that was it -- a professional eye. If he’d known she was in Haze tonight he would have been a bit slower dealing with the Mendovian. ’Port Security Commander Kala Decoltéir would not have missed how preternaturally fast his strikes were tonight. This is what he got for losing his focus.And if you lose your focus, Emylie could end up dead.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Tartan Interlude by Selena Illyria

Tartan Interlude
by Selena Illyria
cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-069-8
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Interracial, Werewolves
Series: Tartan Werewolves
Length: Novella

Werewolf Iain is in love with Katherine, a human. Katherine doesn't think that anyone can fall in love in three months. Mating is one thing, love is another altogether.
Iain is determined to prove her wrong and he'll do everything he can to convince her of his love.

He bent his head down and kissed her softly on the lips. It wasn't enough. His tongue ran over the seam of her lips. Her mouth parted on a soft sigh and her tongue slipped out. At first it was a gentle exploration, the tips of both muscles poking each other before slipping and sliding over and against each other. Their heads rolled from side to side as his hand move south. The tips of fingers caressing her neck, over her shoulder and down her arm. Their fingers entwined for a brief second before he let go and took hold of her hip. Pulling her toward him, he slipped his arm around her. When he felt her body against his he couldn't stop himself from grinding against her.
Her body moved against his, as his hips rocked forward and back imitating what he wanted to do at that very moment. His skin was too tight. He was slowly slipping into madness at the feel of his stomach clenching, his balls tightening against his body. The slow throb of his cock, straining against his pants and the bite of the zipper increased his arousal.
She gently scrapped her teeth against his bottom lip, sucking the plump flesh between her teeth. He groaned and tightened his hold. His hips pumped faster against her and she matched his rhythm grinding her body against his. Everything fell away for him. All he felt, all he knew was her.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Excerpt: Shifting Priorities: Mating Ritual by Anne Kane

Shifting Priorities: Mating Ritual
by Anne Kane

Cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-066-7
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Legends
Series: Shifting Priorities
Length: Novella

When Jexx finds out the man she’s just had fantastic sex with is one of the legendary Imperial Were-Panthers, she’s impressed and flattered. But when she finds out he’s decided to claim her as his mate, she’s less than thrilled. She’s not in the market for a bossy male to order her around. When the spaceship the two of them are returning to Earth on suffers from technical problems, the two of them need to work together to overcome the problem and get home before the life support starts to falter.


Grunting as he slammed into the post, the larger man turned and fixed Tome with a malevolent glare. A cold smile tilted his mouth and he wiped a thin trickle of blood off his chin with his shirtsleeve. His gaze flickered to his partner for a second and then returned to Tome. He circled to the right, forcing Tome to turn away from the second man in order to keep facing him. They’d obviously worked as a team before.
“Don’t worry. If you can handle the whale, I’ll take care of the guppy.” Jexx didn’t want Tome worrying about her when he should be concentrating on his opponent. She’d been in lots of scrapes and she knew how to defend herself against a lone assailant.
She watched the big man circle around Tome. Slower this time, sizing up his foe.
Tome crouched low, his strange amber eyes darkening as he focused on the man. Jexx gave a wistful thought to her blaster, left onboard ship per standard landing procedures. Hindsight. The feel of a nice solid blaster in her hand would have been worth running the risk of detection by random scans.
His opponent feinted with a beefy right hook, and Tome blocked it with his forearm, jabbing in to sink a quick fist into the man’s belly. His attacker staggered back out of reach, the evil grin still plastered on his face.
“I’m going to enjoy your little green-eyed pet.” The man licked his lips and flicked a quick glance at Jexx. “I like it when they fight back.”
Tome danced in and aimed a roundhouse kick at the man’s head. “I don’t think you’d like her fighting style. She’d enjoy slitting your throat.” His foot glanced off his opponent’s shoulder as the man slid sideways.
Jexx pivoted to meet the smaller man as he rushed her from behind, the noise of his clumsy feet warning her of his intentions. She angled sideways and extended her arm, letting his momentum carry him straight into an uppercut to the throat.
His eyes widened in shock. He gasped. Struggled to drag oxygen into his lungs. His eyes clouded, grew dull. He dropped to the ground at Jexx’s feet with a meaty thud. She hadn’t even worked up a sweat on that one.
She looked at Tome’s back and saw him tense. She realized he didn’t know which one of them had fallen. He should have more faith in me .But she took pity on him. “That wasn’t much of a challenge. You need a hand?”
He relaxed at the sound of her voice. “No, I’m good.”
She watched the two men circle, each looking for an opening. Tome feinted with his left. His opponent took the bait and lunged forward. Tome instantly extended his claws and slashed bloody furrows down the unprotected arm.
The man didn’t pause, his left fist still driving straight for Tome’s face. Tome pivoted and let the blow glance off the side of his head. The brute danced out of range, that disgusting leer still plastered on his face.
“I think he must be the ugliest male I’ve ever seen.” Jexx backed away and lounged against the wall, giving the two men plenty of room.
The man in question glanced over at the sound of her voice. Tome took advantage of his momentary distraction. He swept in low and extended his left leg to sweep the man’s legs out from under him.
The annoying grin vanished and a look of utter disbelief replaced it as the brute tumbled backward, unable to break his fall. His head hit the rocky ground with an audible crack and the massive body went limp.
Tome bent over the still form to check his pulse. “He’ll live. Good. I’d hate to spend the next eon answering questions from security.”
Straightening, he stalked over to Jexx and roughly pulled her into his embrace. When she tilted her head to look up at him, he brought his mouth down on hers with savage intensity. Her lips parted under his onslaught and he thrust his tongue inside, exploring every corner.
She stiffened in his arms, hesitating for a split second before surrendering, her tongue mating with his in an erotic duel.
He dropped his hand dropped to her ass, and dragged her hard against him to feel the outline of his massive erection through the skintight body suit. He lifted his head and scowled. “What the hell were you thinking, running to the out-ports when you know I ordered them closed to females traveling alone?”
Jexx shrugged. “I thought you were overreacting.” She raised her head to look him in the eyes. “I’m capable of looking after myself.”
Tome raised an eyebrow. “And if I hadn’t shown up, exactly what were you planning on doing with Ugly and his sidekick?” He jerked his head at the pair lying unconscious on the ground.
Jexx looked down at them and a tiny grin curled the corner of her mouth. “I might have been able to play them off against each other. Asteroid jockeys aren’t the brightest bunch in the universe.”
Tome snorted and shook his head. The amber streaks swirling within the changing golds and browns of his slanted eyes betrayed his arousal. “Well, lucky for you our little interlude on the station left me wanting more, so I decided to track you down.” He ran his hands down her back and cupped her ass, tracing the rounded shape of it through the thin layers of her spacer-suit. “I’d ask ‘your ship or mine,’ but it’s going to be mine.”
“Really?” She wrinkled her brow and stared up at him, perplexed. “Why?”
He smiled and reached out to pin her hands between their bodies. “Because your ship was impounded on orders from the stationmaster.” He paused for a moment. “It’s being towed back planet-side as we speak.”

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Channelling Morpheus --Tainted by Jordan Castillo Price

Channeling Morpheus: Tainted
by Jordan Castillo Price

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-075-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Cyber-Punk
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Channeling Morpheus
Length: Novella


Vampires agree that vampirism must be spread through sex, because if a bite on the neck could turn someone, the world would be overrun with legions of bloodsuckers by now. So Wild Bill’s been careful. The last thing he’d want is turn anyone. Especially his boy toy.

Despite Wild Bill’s caution, Michael’s looking pale and thin… more so than usual. He wears it well, just like the leather jacket, the black-dyed hair and the eyeliner. But for someone as starved as he is, food should hold more of an appeal. And is that a preternatural grace Bill detects in Michael’s movements?


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.

Heartless, soulless, generic and commercial. You gotta love these “big box” stores. I’d never set foot in one until I had a someone other than yours truly to look after. Never needed to. As long as I had enough smokes to keep me busy and a warm-blooded meal ticket nearby, I was happy enough with the clothes on my back.The homicidal eye-candy I’d hooked up with had more needs than I did. Like food. Pens and notebooks. Somewhere to eat and sleep. And do the nasty.So I bought us a van.That’s how it all starts, I guess. You let something stick, and the next thing you know, you start accessorizing it.I pulled a card of earrings off a revolving rack full of shiny, shiny trinkets. Not bad. “I’m taking this,” I told the clerk behind the counter, who smiled and gave me a finger wave. I tucked the earrings into my pocket.Handbags. Slippers. Pantyhose. Sunglasses. I pulled a pair of cheap plastic shades off the display and tried them on. Thankfully the notion about vamps not casting reflections is just a weird idea someone dreamt up after chugging too much absinthe. How else would I be able to pick out a decent pair of shades if I couldn’t make sure they looked good on me?But of course they did. I snapped the price tag off and put them on. Better. The hyper-bright fluorescent lighting had really been doing a number on my impressionable retinas.Hats. Wallets. Scarves. I stopped and stared. Some of ’em were grandma-scarves, sure. But some of ’em were slinky and long. I took a black one, pulled off the tag, looped it around my neck. Nice.I sniffed the air. Lots of humans teeming through the store, even at quarter to ten. Despite the smorgasbord of scents, I zeroed in easily enough on the one I wanted.Michael.He stood at a glass countertop shaped just like the jewelry island, except this one was full of cameras and phones, and other little gadgets I’d never heard of, and had no desire to know what they did.I unwound the scarf from my neck and wrapped it around his. Not only would he feel less self-conscious about the series of thin, neat cuts I’d left on him with my trusty flip-around knife, but he’d give Marc Bolan a run for his money in the jerk-off fantasy department. I’d refrain from telling him that, since given his age, I couldn’t hope for anything more than a blank stare in return.He leaned into me, pressed his side against my side. “Look.” He pointed at a plastic rectangle.“Yeah?”“It’s a computer.”“It is?” It was the size of the cigar box I kept my paintbrushes in, back in the Dark Ages.“If I had one of those, I wouldn’t need to spend so much time at the library. We could park outside a coffee shop and I could hop online.”I was probably giving him the same look he would’ve given me if I’d told him he’d pass for a member of T-Rex. “So get it.”He went real quiet. “It’s almost thee hundred dollars. Plus tax.”I squatted and pressed my nose against the glass. I didn’t understand money at all. Smokes had gone from a buck twenty-five a pack to six, while computers had dropped from five grand to a lousy three hundred -- plus tax. Good thing I never had to pay for anything. I’d get taken for a ride, for sure.There was a kid in a blue polyester vest behind the counter who’d been doing his best to look close and available, but also courteous and unobtrusive. He wasn’t too successful. Mostly he looked awkward. “Gimme one of those,” I told him. “The pink one.” Because if a computer company was ridiculous enough to make a paperback-sized laptop in pink, how could I not get that one? “Ring it up however you need to. We’re taking it.”He pressed some keys, scanned the box, and gave it to me. I handed it to Michael. I could tell he wanted to whisper some token protests at me, but he also wanted his new toy badly enough that he knew better than to complain about it.When he finally did find his voice, he said, “We should probably get a car charger.”

Monday, October 06, 2008

Nine Lives by Melinda Barron

Nine Lives
by Melinda Barron
Cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-056-8
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Interracial, Ménage, Bisexual and More
Length: Novella


Cat shifter Ophelia Brown lives a nomadic life. She travels from town to town, dancing at clubs, and trying to help others with the money her parents left her. But when she gets to Denver things change.
Club owner Conner Riley is very attracted to his new dancer. He and his boyfriend, Fox Nichols, have always appreciated the female form, especially O’s. But when strange things start happening to O, it’s up to Conner and Fox, a private detective, to figure out what’s happening before their shifter loses any more of her nine lives.


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.

Ophelia took a deep breath of the cool October air, loving the way it filled her lungs. After a night inside, with the low lights of the club, the loud music and the yells of customers, coming outside always made her body tingle with joy.
Tonight would be a perfect night to shift, to roam around Denver and see what was happening. First though, she’d go home to her little apartment in Aurora, check to make sure things were fine and then drive to Sloan’s Lake. There were always a few shifters hanging out there who loved to run and play some games.
Work hadn’t been hard tonight. She’d done four sets, and the crowds had been respectable, but not overly large. The tips had been good, but Ophelia didn’t dance for the money. She danced because she enjoyed the freedom it brought her, the pure joy of performing. She also loved the people she met. Sure, sometimes she had problems, but Conner always took care of things. He didn’t let anyone mess with his girls.
It was one reason she’d stayed in Denver longer than normal. Well, that plus the cat shifter community. She’d made some friends, and it was such a new experience for her that she wasn’t willing to give it up, not quite yet.
That didn’t always happen in her new homes. Because of her shifter abilities she moved, a lot, to avoid discovery. Finding people like her had been a boon. They’d showed her places to run and play at night, and during the day they actually met for lunch, a luxury Ophelia had never thought to have.
She sniffed the air again, then sighed. Over the smell of car exhaust fumes and stale cigarette smoke, she could scent a change in the weather. Snow should fly before the end of the week, and Ophelia could hardly wait. Nothing was more fun than frolicking in the snow in her feline form, except for maybe doing it with a bunch of friends. This winter could be interesting.
The parking lot was nearly deserted. Riley’s Dance Emporium closed at two, and since it was now almost three, the only cars left belonged to her, the few dancers still inside, her boss Conner, and his boyfriend, Fox.
She’d parked down at the end of the lot tonight since she hadn’t come in until after nine and most of the spots had already been taken. Usually that wouldn’t pose a problem since Conner made sure the area was well lit. But tonight, as she took the first few steps away from the building, she stopped, her instincts telling her something wasn’t quite right.
Two of the four streetlamps used to illuminate the parking lot weren’t working, and they were the two closest to her car, leaving her shiny red vehicle virtually sitting in the dark. She stared at them for a few minutes, wondering if she should go back inside and tell Conner… maybe ask him to walk her to her car.
She dismissed the idea as quickly as it came, though. When she’d last seen Conner, Fox had him pinned to the wall just outside the office, their lips locked. Fox’s hand had been inside Conner’s jeans, and even through the kiss Ophelia could hear Conner’s moans of pleasure.
Better not interrupt the lovers just because two lights were out. Nobody else was parked in that area. Tomorrow she would come in early and tell Conner, and he’d have it fixed before tomorrow night.
After all, she was a cat shifter. Seeing in the dark wasn’t a problem for her. She shouldered her bag and started toward her car, hoping Christine and Lily were in the park tonight. The three of them had a great time two nights ago when they’d taken on two others shifters for a few races. The memory of their wins made Ophelia laugh. Tonight would be a perfect night for more races.
Ophelia was about fifty feet from her car when the noise caught her attention. She turned around quickly, gasping at the car that sped right toward her, gravel spitting out from underneath the fast moving wheels. There were no headlights on, but that didn’t seem to bother the driver. He, or she, knew right where he was going, and Ophelia was the target.
She took off at a dead run, bounding over her car as if it were a two-foot fence, crouching down on the other side, her heart racing. She dropped her bag and got down on all fours, sucking in a huge breath of air. Her bones drew up as energy surged through her body, her human form disappearing.
Four paws came first, then her curvy hips and large breasts, which made her such a hit on the stage, disappeared. Her body shrunk and her skin turned to fur, mostly black with tufts of white around the neck and belly.
She scrambled away from her clothes, grateful she’d prepared for shifting later by wearing a loose dress with no underclothes. Once free of the material, she dove under her own car as the one that had been heading for her slammed on its brakes and swerved to avoid hitting her little compact. Instead, it hit the side of the Dumpster, the sound of metal scraping against metal making Ophelia cringe. The smell of burning rubber assailed her senses and she twitched her nose, her whiskers pulsing to try and detect the direction her assailant had gone. She crept to the front of the car slowly, peeping out from her hiding place.
All she could see were tires, though. A yell from the front of the building made her look in that direction. The car took off, peeling out and almost drowning out a command from Fox for it to stop.

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Soul Familiar 2: Unpredictable by Kate Steele

Soul Familiar 2: Unpredictable
by Kate Steele
Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-806-7
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Soul Familiar
Length: Novella

Life is unpredictable. That sentiment should be tattooed on my forehead -- or better yet on my lover’s ass. I’d see it more often.
I’m Alex Layton and I’m a soul familiar. Most people know witches and wizards use familiars to enhance their powers. Soul familiars become not only partners with their chosen magic practitioner but mates for life, and we bond with our partners -- heart, body, mind, and soul. I’ve found my soul mate, a sweet, gorgeous, recently deflowered virgin, fledging wizard by the name of Tyler Montgomery. To keep him, I face a challenge, or more precisely, we face a challenge. Magical combat designed to test our bond and its strength. If we pass, we live happily ever after. If we lose… let’s just say I refuse to lose.
Everything’s going to be fine. I just know it will. Right? All we have to deal with is the powerful and practiced duo consisting of a fellow soul familiar and his mate who are gunning for us and one accident of nature soul familiar whose erratic powers are making our spells produce daffodils instead of dragons.
Like I said, life is unpredictable.


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 was it that guy said in the movie Independence Day when he flew his fighter plane up the wazoo of the alien space ship? “I’m baaack!”
Yeah, I’m back. Alex Layton, remember? I’m the two-hundred-year-old, tastefully gorgeous soul familiar who just found his soul mate, Tyler Montgomery. I began my story by telling you about myself and how I met Tyler, and temporarily ended it when I discovered Tyler was my soul mate. Now that the shock has worn off, I think it’s time to continue this little tale. After all, I know you’re totally intrigued and probably smitten with me as well, so who am I to deny you a little more of my charm and wit.
As you can tell, I’ve never been accused of being modest.
Picking up where we left off, Tyler and I had just made love, the soul joining took place, and my dad showed up to congratulate us and give us the good news about Tyler facing that inconvenient little test designed to assess his worthiness to be my partner. When Dad returned the way he’d appeared -- in a nimbus of light via the ether corridor -- I was left to explain things to Tyler. I’d like to say we were cuddling in bed, but my ever practical Tyler decided he’d had enough of my attempts to distract him with some more than friendly groping and made us get up and go downstairs to the kitchen. At this point I could but sigh in frustration.
“It’s three o’clock in the morning. Do you really think we should be drinking coffee at this hour?” I asked as he set a steaming cup of black brew in front of me.
I’d taken a seat at the small oak table that resided at one end of the room near windows that overlooked the front lawn. As dark as it was outside, there was little to see other than that which was revealed under the bluish-white glow of the security light that topped a tall pole beside the garage. The only thing I could see stirring was the plant life that swayed with the gentle, night breeze.
Tyler took the chair opposite me. “Quit complaining. I mojoed the caffeine out of it since we don’t have decaf.”
“And how did you do that?”
“A touch of that transformation spell I learned the other day. It was easy to remove that one element.”
Giving the coffee a leery look, I picked up my cup and took a sniff. It smelled all right. I took a taste. It tasted all right too. “It’s good. Seems you’re actually learning.”
“From the sound of things, I guess I’d better. You want to explain exactly what’s going on?”
“Not really, but I suppose I’d better since you’ve dragged me out of bed at such an indecent hour.”
“Yeah, I can feel your outrage. Spill it.”
“Would you just listen to that sarcasm? You’ve gotten awfully bold and bossy for a twenty-two-year-old former virgin with all of a day’s experience under your belt.”
“I’m a fast learner, and you’re rubbing off on me.”
“Not yet, but given a little encouragement…” I knew I was smirking. I just couldn’t help it.
Tyler was not amused. “All right. You felt something strange after we made love that last time, right?”
“Yeah, I did.” Tyler closed his eyes as though savoring the memory. “It was so intense. Everything I felt, the breath in my lungs, the beat of my heart, the feel of your skin against mine, it was like I was experiencing it not only for myself, but through you as well. Why did that happen?”
“If you’ll remember back to what my dad said, he congratulated me on finding my true mate. That particular phenomenon occurs when a soul familiar finds his soul mate. That would be you.”
“Soul mate?” Tyler asked, with a touch of doubtful sarcasm.
“I hate to say it, but that sounds a little corny. So what exactly does being a soul mate entail? Did we just get married or something?”
I gave him a brittle smile. “Pretty much.”
“I was kidding. You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Tyler dropped his gaze from mine, but not before I saw the dismay in his eyes. His earlier comment about soul mates being corny stung and it put me on the defensive. I was wondering if we were in trouble. It seemed I was the only one feeling happy about this situation.
“Is the prospect of being tied to me such an awful one?” I asked, trying very hard to keep my tone neutral.
“No, it’s not that and I wouldn’t have made light of it if I’d known you were serious.” Tyler raised his eyes to mine. “It’s just… I don’t know. I feel like I should apologize.”
Now that surprised me. I just had to ask. “Why?”
“I’m sure this isn’t something you bargained for when you volunteered to help me.”
“No, it’s not. Do you hear me complaining?”
“No, but it seems like you should be. I mean seriously, when it comes to things like experience, talent, and power we’re so far apart. There are probably plenty of other guys way better than me you’d prefer to be stuck with. Someone who would suit you much better than I do.”
“What bullshit. Tyler, the joining happened because, corny as it sounds, the cosmic forces of the universe decided we should be together. The fact that I agree with them is just icing on the cake.” I reached across the table and waited for his hand to meet mine halfway. When our fingers entwined, I couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at my mouth. “You’re right. I’ve been with a lot of guys over the years, which just helps me know now that there’s no one I’d rather be with than you. And thank you.”
“For what?”
“For recognizing my stellar attributes, the power, the talent, although you could have also mentioned the drop-dead gorgeous looks and the amazing prowess in bed.”
Tyler rolled his eyes and gave me a good-natured yet skeptical smile. “You are so full of yourself.”
“You may be right, though I prefer it when you’re full of me. Let’s go back to bed,” I answered with a suggestive wiggle of my brows.