Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Red Cloud Wolves by Kate Steele

Red Cloud Wolves (Collection)
by Kate Steele

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-138-1
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure
Theme(s): Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Red Cloud Wolves
Length: Collection


Almost century ago, Landon Jeffers was on the run from a posse determined to see him dance at the end of a noose when he made a discovery that would change his life forever. Landon’s dreams of the desert’s riches morphed into images of moonlit nights, howling wolves and a man whose piercing black eyes turn to fire. A wild man who will tame his heart. A man named Dark.
Over the years legends have taken shape about wild men inhabiting the Grand Canyon -- men who turn into wolves. Now Landon and Dark will need every bit of courage they possess to preserve the existence of the Moon Wolf. It’s up to them to stop a killer. One who’s been holding a grudge for a very, very long time…


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.

As was common in many saloons, the wall behind the bar shone with etched and polished mirror. Rows of glinting glass and bottles filled with whisky, rye, bourbon and the like marched along the low shelves built beside and beneath it. Lan sidled up to the bar and ordered a whiskey. With glass in hand he turned to admire the sight before him. Now this, he mused, feels just like home.
It wasn’t long before he was concentrating on the tables where card games were in progress. At one such table, a man rose. Tipping his hat at those assembled, he walked out of the bar. Another man seated there, at least part Spanish by the look of him, caught Lan’s eye and with a short move of his head indicated the empty seat. Lan sent him an answering nod and joined the other players. Seating himself with little fanfare, he bought into the game, was dealt his first hand and the play began.
For the first couple of hours the game went well. He won his share of hands and had a nice stack of chips in front of him. His fellow players were all obviously experienced but unaware of the fact that they were giving away their hands in subtle ways. As the game progressed Lan was learning their tells. One player would narrow his right eye just a bit when bluffing. Another would tug the corner of his mustache when he had a good hand. Ever so slowly, small bits of body language began to betray each players’ mood and if he held good cards or bad.
One of the bargirls had taken a shine to Lan and made frequent stops at his table. Susie waited on Lan before anyone else and gave him sweet come-hither smiles and meaningful looks from big brown eyes. She also managed to show him quite a bit of her bosom in the process. Lan gracefully bore her attention, not about to enlighten her in this roomful of strangers that he preferred his partners a hell of a lot more flat-chested. And male. This pretty girl was sporting all the wrong equipment to engage Lan’s interest, unlike the fresh-faced cowboy across the table. Lan could definitely see himself letting that beefy, blond-haired, young man ride his cock. Putting those thoughts aside, Lan kept his mind firmly on the game.
It was in the early hours of the morning that the trouble began. Lan had begun to suspect it for quite sometime but the last hand had proved it for sure. The duded up swell who acted like he owned the place was cheating. Lan threw his cards in before the hand began and started to gather his money in spite of the protests around him.
“I got nothing against losing, but I won’t play with a cheat,” he told them. His words brought a quiet hush to the table.
“Who are you accusing of cheating?” the dude asked.
“That’d be you.”
The man sat there bold as brass and slowly nodded his head. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
Around the table chairs were pushed back. The tension quickly spread to the neighboring tables until they had an audience looking on with anticipation and dread.
“Would that make a difference?”
“The name’s Roger Coburn.”
“And that should mean what to me?”
“My brother is Daniel Coburn, Marshal of Calico. We own this town.”
Lan felt a slight frisson of dismay which he more than adequately hid behind his calm demeanor. Every nerve in his body was trying to dance with the rising stress that winged through his veins and tightened each muscle in tiny, nearly invisible increments. This situation was far from unfamiliar but he didn’t carry a gun for show. With composure only the best of his breed could exhibit, Lan put his life on the line.
“Do tell. Well, Mr. Coburn, where I come from a man wins at cards with luck and skill, not by intimidation and most definitely not by cheating. I don’t give a damn who you are. No double dealing braggart is lining his pockets with my money.” Lan rose to leave.
Across the table, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, Roger Coburn stood. His chair tipped back and fell. There were screams. Men and women scrambled to get out of the way. A gun appeared in Coburn’s hand as he drew it from his holster. Without stopping to think about it, Lan answered the threat. Two revolvers fired. One found its target, the other didn’t. Coburn gasped and grabbed his middle, blood blossoming and spreading against his shirt in a flood of red. With a look of astonished disbelief on his face, he fell to the side, dead before he hit the floor.
Landon didn’t need any encouragement to get moving. Smoking gun in hand, he grabbed his money up. Keeping a wary eye on those around him, he crossed the floor and was out the door and gone. He didn’t question the need for haste or the need to run. That Coburn had had the bald-faced gall to expect his cheating to be overlooked just because his brother was the town marshal boded ill. From the sound of it, this wasn’t the first such incident. Apparently the marshal backed his brother. More than likely he wouldn’t take kindly to someone killing the man, even if it had been a fair fight.
Walking swiftly to the hotel and entering, he took the stairs two at a time. Once in his room, he stuffed his belongings back in his saddlebags and was back outside in seconds flat heading for the livery stable.
Cursing the darkness, he fumbled in his saddlebags for matches and lit one just inside the stable doors. A lantern hung nearby and he lit the wick then made his way down the line of stalls, quickly finding his horse and tack. The roan gelding blew and stamped, disgruntled at being disturbed but he held steady while Lan got him saddled and bridled. Around him the other horses answered with low whickers. After adjusting his gear, reins in hand, Lan led his horse to the doors and replaced the lantern after carefully extinguishing the flame.
Heart pounding, he paused and listened. In the distance he could hear shouting. Without wasting another second, he was out the door, leading his horse. It was still dark and he wasn’t about to risk injury to the roan. Taking his bearings, he started in an easterly direction and was soon out of town. So far there was no sound of pursuit. The ground rose steadily as he went. Glancing back he could see lights flitting around town like fireflies. They were searching for him.
Grimly, Landon turned his back and kept walking. When the sun rose high enough to make the landscape visible, he mounted up and headed east, intending to put a lot of miles between himself and Calico.

Excerpt from Silver Dreams


Monday, December 29, 2008

City of the Damned Collection by Marie Treanor

City of the Damned (Collection)
by Marie Treanor

Cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-125-1
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, Werewolves
Series: City of the Damned
Length: Collection


In the depths of nuclear winter a self-sufficient cop leaves the safety of her Dome City and travels north in search of her missing brother. In the City of the Damned, where radiation poisoning has created new mutant species, April sets off a chain of events and deceptions destined to change the life of all the city’s inhabitants.
For Max, who has felt little but blood thirst for many years, the blinding sexual pleasure he experiences with April becomes an obsession. When wolf and vampire collide, one will be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice, for the survival of their world.
Like wolves, the lupi mate for life. As for vampires… they mate for something more…


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.

Lara knew he was watching her.She couldn’t see him, and she refused to turn and look, but still she knew. The tiny hairs at the back of her neck stood up. Her scalp tingled, and all her senses sprang to full alert. All except hearing, which was still being battered into submission by the raucous music shaking the whole building. She’d been wary enough entering this weird club in the first place, but she had been a cop back at the Dome long enough to trust her instincts, which positively shrieked at her now to take great, great care.Poised for any action necessary, she forced her foot to continue tapping out the music’s relentless beat. She began a wide sweep with her eyes, taking in the heaving mass of gyrating bodies directly in front of her. Beyond them, on a raised and precariously vibrating stage, was the band -- a very small collection of wild and unkempt individuals to be responsible for such a huge noise.Lara’s eyes lifted to the high rafters under the crumbling roof, from which hung large braziers that scattered leaping flame lights and shadows across the walls and the faces below. Halfway up to the ceiling, a platform ran the whole way around the hall, making a mezzanine floor round which several people prowled. Some leaned there against a very temporary-looking grill in order to gaze greedily down at the sweating dancers, as if searching for prey -- which they probably were. Of one kind or another.But the eyes observing her weren’t up there. They were -- directly behind her.Spinning on her heel, her fist clenched and ready, she caught a flash of silver light, the tiniest, blurred glimpse of a swiftly moving figure, before another man blocked her view by standing mere inches in front of her.“Hey, looking for someone?” the obstruction asked, grinning. He shouted expertly over the din of the music, without appearing to use excessive effort. He was big, chunky, mostly muscle. Yet his smile reminded Lara of a snake.“Actually, yes,” she murmured, peering past him.There he is. A tall young man with long hair that glinted peculiarly silver in the club’s weird light. There’s my man. He made no effort to hide himself now, which made her wonder if he ever had. His face looked pale in the strange, flickering light, with heavily hooded eyes and deeply shadowed hollows beneath rather delicate cheekbones. He wore a light-colored leather jacket, maybe grey, and jeans that stretched tight across his thighs and hips. He looked lean and dangerously hungry. With his shoulder against a concrete pillar, he gazed directly at her.He was certainly worth gazing back at. The words lithe, predatory and raw crossed Lara’s mind. So did beautiful, but she managed to squash that one before it fully surfaced.“Anyone in particular?” enquired the chunky snake annoyingly. A group of young people wandered past, blocking Lara’s view, and reluctantly she shifted her attention back to her interlocutor.“Very particular,” she returned. She thought he was staff. Some kind of bouncer. Either way, he gave off the air of knowing.He smiled again. “Perhaps I can introduce you. I know several very nice -- and not so nice -- men who want to meet you.”“They’re not my kind,” Lara said impatiently. The snake, clearly, was the club pimp. In the Dome, she’d already have arrested him. Here she just looked beyond him once more, but the man with silver hair had gone. A pang of disappointment twisted through her stomach. Oh well, interest stirred and interest died. It wasn’t as if she was prepared to pursue it anyway. But hell, it had been nice to look.“Wow!” said the snake. “Swift decision-making, I like that! Well then, what is your kind? Whatever it is, I can help. A young boy? An older woman? A vampire to suck your blood? Or a willing man who’ll let you suck his? A werewolf to…”“A werewolf?” Lara interrupted, staring at him. “For God’s sake, what sort of perverts do you encourage here?”“All sorts,” the snake replied frankly. “Werewolves are particularly popular. They can fuck all night. And, baby, I mean all night. So if you change your mind, just let me know.”A little shiver ran down Lara’s spine. His coarse words struck an unexpected chord in her, an ache of secret loneliness and frustration, a sudden rush of lust not dissociated from the silver-haired young man. Now him she probably wouldn’t mind in the least fucking her all night. But some arsehole who thought he was a werewolf? Or, even worse, some other arsehole who imagined women wanted him to be a werewolf! Dear God, she’d rather cross her legs and take a vow of celibacy.Dragging her mind back to the moment as her chunky snake began to move away, she said, “Hey. I am looking for a man, tallish, thirty years old, short black hair, glasses, mole on his right cheek…”The pimp blinked. “Particular? You weren’t kidding!”“Know one like that? Anywhere in the city. I’d pay you whether he’s yours or not.”“Can’t see moles in this light,” said the snake dryly.“All right. What about a blond girl, mid-twenties, pouty lips, heart tattoo on her left shoulder? Pretty, curvy, looks like a fallen angel…”“I fancy her already.”“I’ll take that as a no.”Lara felt tired. She was wasting her time here too. Even the promising instinct when she had felt herself being watched had turned out to be nothing more than an attack of lust, no doubt reciprocated. But since she had neither the time nor the stupidity to screw strangers in this God-forsaken city, it was time she went back to the lodge and began her search afresh in the morning.Ignoring the snake’s leer, she swung round and began to push her way through the dancers toward the exit.He emerged from nowhere. One moment she saw only a sea of swaying, writhing bodies, reluctantly parting to let her through, the next, he stood in front of her, quite still. The silver blond hair fell forward over his forehead, stirring faintly with the motion of the dancers.Lara’s hand, halfway up to push at the next shoulder, paused in mid-air. Shadows from the braziers above flickered crazily across his lean face, emphasizing the dark hollows below his cheekbones. His eyes, strangely pale, reflective eyes, glinted orange in the flaring light. They gazed straight down into hers, paralyzing her.Oh yes, interest definitely stirred. He had something, some power of personality or sexual magnetism. He hadn’t even spoken to her and yet she felt a rush of moisture between her legs. Too long without a man, Lara…Slowly, he reached up toward her poised hand. Shocked at last out of her paralysis, Lara quickly balled it into a fist. But his movement changed, suddenly quickened, so that before she could even twitch in defense, his big hand closed over her knuckles.His touch was electric. Astonishment prevented her from even trying to fight back, and in fact there was nothing aggressive about his grip. It was firm, but light, allowing her to escape easily if she wanted to. But curiosity -- yes, truly, curiosity -- kept her still. As a sop to her pride, she lifted one interrogative eyebrow at him. She meant it to be haughty, though she doubted it turned out that way for in response his lips -- full, expressive lips -- only curved upwards as if she had granted some kind of permission. He lifted his other hand toward her, palm upwards. Slowly, without really meaning to, Lara laid her own free hand in it.
Excerpt from Loving the Wolf

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Contract in Blood 2: Finale in Blood (Collection)
by Madeleine Oh

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-139-8
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Ménage, Bisexual and More, Vampires
Series: Contract in Blood
Length: Collection


Ferda’s never opposed to a three way, but vampires tend to be a jealous lot.
While her vampire smugglers search for a permanent replacement crew member, Ferda discovers Zadde, the only lead to the origins of their mysterious cryogenic stowaway, has been tortured and killed. Ferda proves she’s not beyond a few galactic felonies herself -- if it means finding the truth.
With the authorities as well as bounty hunters hot on their tails, our crew sets out for Frannin, Zadde’s home base, hoping to unlock the secrets of his illicit trade before they share his fate! Together, they have one last chance to set the record straight…


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.
A loud crackle on the com and a visual appearing on the holoscreen signaled they’d made contact with Damphir IV. Adlet stepped away from the console and let Drake take over negotiations.
He actually stepped wide away, deciding it was time he got a cup of javabrew from the service hatch. Adlet had always been in awe of Drake, an ancient vampire by any calculations, and a couple of incidents in the past forty-eight hours had added to his caution.
“How do things look?” Rand asked, as he walked onto the space ship’s bridge. “Any luck?”
“Drake’s talking to them now.”
“I hope to the heavens they agree. The pirates got in several hard hits. We need repairs and we can’t go a-roving the heavens with a cryogenically preserved person in the hold.”
That was the big problem that overshadowed all Adlet’s petty anxieties. If the Galactic Police ever got wind that they carried an undeclared cryonic chamber, they’d all end up on some penal planet. That would postpone his returning to university -- but that alternative didn’t hold much appeal.
“Think they’ll let us land?” Adlet asked. Not that Adlet quite got what Drake thought the inhabitants of Damphir IV might do, but if Drake and Ferda saw it as their best option, Adlet was not about to argue.
Still, he had rather mixed feelings about landing on a planet inhabited by vampires. Living with two he could handle. Having one as a lover and offering his blood he definitely enjoyed, but several hundred thousand of them? The thought made his neck itch.
Rand shrugged. “I hope so. If not, we’re in deep shit. Seen Ferda?”
“She went down to check on the… um… passenger.”
The off-ship comlink crackled into life. Not that Adlet could understand a word. “What’s he saying?”
“It’s an old dead language from Terra. Latin. Don’t know it myself. Drake keeps on at me to start learning.”
“Vamps speak it?”
“So it seems. Some always have. Drake says he learned it as a boy. Something to do with an ancient Terran religion.”
Whatever it was, it was unintelligible to Adlet. Which was probably the whole idea. Mind you, he might not understand the words, but he got the gist of it. Drake was arguing with the vamp down on the planet. After a pause, a question was pretty much barked at Drake. Would the unseen speaker talk like that if he was face to face with Drake?
Another pause and Drake replied, in a casual, even voice, then said, “Rand Farrar, Adlet Wirram --” generous pause, apparently for dramatic effect, “-- Ferda Wallace.”
The other end all but exploded, repeating Ferda’s name and then letting out a string of excited gibberish. Okay, it was Latin but sounded like gibberish to Adlet.
Taking his finger off the mike button, Drake threw his head back and laughed, a real whoop and cackle. Adlet had never even seen him let out so much as a smile and now he was roaring his head off?
When Drake got it back together, they exchanged a couple more sentences, brief and agreeable sounding, and ended the transmission.
“Adlet.” Drake swiveled his chair. “Go help Ferda load the canister on the transport pod. We have clearance to land.”
Excerpt from Committment in Blood


Saturday, December 27, 2008

Dangerous Cravings Collection by Kate Hill

Dangerous Cravings (Collection)
by Kate Hill

cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-977-4
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires
Series: Blood and Soul
Length: Collection


Burgundy Peak. Safe haven for vampires… but nowhere is safe from affairs of the heart.

Sensual and captivating, Tavia could have almost anyone she desires, except the man she wants. But time is on her side. When his wife leaves him for a younger man, Tavia is ready to show Ash a new life, as the most powerful, passionate creature in the world -- a vampire…

Rude, arrogant, and merciless, Disdain's reputation precedes him. Haunted by memories of the past and an addiction that is slowly destroying him, he has no desire for a relationship -- until he’s faced with a woman he cannot resist.

While Mansi grieves for their lost lover, Apollo retreats into himself. Mansi fears her husband is beyond help… until Huxley enters their lives. The members of Dark Rhythm aren't likely to forgive and forget, however…

With the body of a goddess and the spirit of a warrior, Adira has fought at Ariel’s side since the dawn of man. Throughout the ages, Ariel has loved her, and feared her. She is the one temptation he could never resist, and therefore the one he could never surrender to. For the last three hundred years she’s been hunting him, and he has been running.

Now the running’s about to stop -- at Burgundy Peak.


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.

Summer 1994

Ash Collins walked up the steps of his new home in suburban New York, his wife, Jen, in his arms. Jen’s arms tightened around his neck and she kissed him, her tongue slipping into his mouth. Chuckling, he broke the kiss. “You’re going to make me fall down the stairs.”“We can’t have that,” Jen purred close to his ear. “We wouldn’t want anything to ruin our evening.”“No, we don’t.” He reached the top of the steps and carried her to the master bedroom. This would be their first night in the house they had purchased several months ago. Though it still needed some work, Jen was thoroughly pleased with it.She smiled dreamily. “I always dreamed of a big house in the suburbs.”“I admit I never thought I’d have one quite like this,” Ash said, stepping into the master bedroom that was about the size of his apartment when he’d been managing the restaurant.“Be quiet and kiss me.”Grasping the front of his shirt, she tugged him atop her as he placed her on the bed. Her hands slipped down his back and grasped his buttocks while he buried his face in her shoulder and kissed her soft, smooth flesh.“Oh, damn. I’m tired of waiting!” Jen tugged his shirt. She wedged her hands between their bodies and unzipped his jeans.Smiling, Ash stood and was about to yank off his clothes when he remembered the window facing the bed. He turned and crossed the room.“Where are you going?” Jen demanded.“To pull the shade.”“Why?” She grinned, peeling off her shirt and revealing her naked torso. “Let’s give the neighbors a show.”“Not a turn on.” He neared the window and paused, gazing at the house next door.Obviously Jen wasn’t the only woman prepared to give the neighborhood a thrill.Through a sheer red curtain covering a picture window, he could see an absolutely stunning woman wearing nothing but a black lace bra and panties. Tall and graceful with thick silver hair that hung halfway down her back, she looked almost magical. She unfastened the bra and slipped it off. A breeze stirred the sheer red curtain so that for a moment he glimpsed her bare breasts in all their alabaster beauty. Fleshy and slightly pendulous, they were simply made to touch.Suddenly the woman paused, her gaze fixed on him. Ash’s pulse skipped. Even from such a distance her eyes summoned him with almost preternatural power. He drew a sharp breath and forced himself to look away.What is wrong with you, Ash? You’re a married man.Even such brief sexual thoughts about another woman galled him. He would never become one of those men who disrespected the woman he had sworn to spend his life with. Besides, he loved Jen.Jen.His wife.He could scarcely believe how his luck had changed. After years of writing song lyrics by night while managing a restaurant by day, he’d quite by chance met the famous songwriter Woodrow Quint. Woodrow helped Ash make connections that changed his life. Last year, after one of the country’s biggest pop stars sang one of Ash’s love songs in a hit movie, he’d suddenly found himself in demand.Even better, he’d met and proposed to Jen, who was not only attractive, but devoted to him. To Ash, loyalty was mandatory. Jen had given him her heart, and there was nothing he would deny her.He reached for the shade and pulled it down. When he turned back to the bed, Jen lay naked, waiting, a seductive smile on her lips. Ash tugged off his clothes and slipped onto the bed beside his wife. Running a hand over her narrow hips, he covered her mouth in a kiss.

Chapter One

Spring 2004

Ash glanced at Jen from the corner of his eye. “You look lovely. New dress?”She sat in the car’s passenger seat, primping her hair in the vanity mirror.“No. I’ve worn it once before. You were probably buried in the basement working at the time.”What a surprise. Another dig.“I haven’t changed since you married me. My lifestyle seemed fine then.”“Exactly, Ash. You haven’t changed. You’re very successful in a profession where you have connections to exciting people doing exciting things, yet what do you choose for entertainment? The same old shit as a regular person.”“Should I have morphed into another species because I’ve written a few hit songs?”“I give up. I really do.” Jen flipped the mirror back into position and stared out the window. “So if you’re intent on sitting home and drying up, why did you decide to attend this awards dinner? Is it because you’re probably going to win again and you want to finally know what it’s like to be there to make the acceptance speech yourself?”No, dammit. It’s because I want to see in person the bozo you’ve been having an affair with. I’ve looked at enough photos of him from the private detective. Now it’s time for a look in the flesh.“Well, you seem to have enjoyed every moment of making them on my behalf over the years, so I can’t tell if you’re complaining because I don’t usually show up for myself or because for once you’ll be out of the spotlight.”“That was a cheap shot, Ash.”And you would know, you cheating bitch.Ash’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t in his nature to keep calm when faced with situations that annoyed him, and this went beyond a minor irritation to nearly uncontrollable rage. The one thing above all others that he hated was disloyalty. If Jen had simply told him she wanted a divorce, he could have handled it. Yes, it would have stung, but he would still have retained his dignity.To discover that for the past few years she had been cheating on him with a variety of men absolutely enraged him. Much younger men. Men who were more than happy to pleasure a rich mistress.His lawyer advised him to keep his cool and continue playing the decent husband. With so much evidence against Jen, there was no way she would receive the alimony she would undoubtedly seek. So Ash would keep his temper in check. There was no way he was going to allow her to humiliate him and then pay her for it.Two hours later, Ash was seated in the corner of a banquet hall. His peers, their guests, and the media mingled, one more desperate and phony than the next. His table was empty, since the group he was seated with had dispersed, including his wife. His gaze fixed on Jen. At forty-five years old, she was as thin and lovely as ever. Thanks to the plastic surgeon his money had paid for, she didn’t look a day over thirty. How blind and stupid did she think he was when she claimed to have visited her relatives on the west coast for a month last year and returned with boobs up under her chin and a face so tight one could bounce a quarter off it?Jen smiled at her dance partner -- and latest lover. Tall, lean, and conventionally handsome, the young man looked like the poster boy for a male modeling agency.“I’m surprised you’re here tonight. Jen managed to drag you out this time?”Ash glanced at his friend and sometime business partner, Woodrow Quint, the man who had gotten him his “big break.” Tall and rangy with dark hair and tinted glasses, Woodrow made a stunning appearance in an understated black suit. Apparently he was a regular visitor to the plastic surgeon’s office as well, considering the man hadn’t aged a day since they had met eleven years ago. It wasn’t as if Woodrow could visually notice the aging process since he was completely blind.“What do you mean drag me out?” Ash snapped.“Nothing personal. It’s just that I know how you feel about these gatherings.”“You don’t exactly have the reputation of a party animal, either. Have a seat.” Ash guided Woodrow’s hand to the nearest chair. His friend settled into it, his hands folded over the top of his snakehead cane.“Dechrista and I prefer other forms of entertainment to this kind of media circus.”That much was true enough. Though Dechrista was a famous vocalist and Woodrow one of the world’s most popular writers of musical theater, they lived a basically quiet life. They revealed little personal information about themselves, even to their friends. Being a private person, Ash had never pushed for details.“Yes. Circus. And the clowns are here in plenty,” Ash muttered, his gaze fixed on Jen and her gigolo.“Is something wrong?” Woodrow asked.“No. Well, yes.”“You should be happy. You won again.”“Whoopee.”Woodrow laughed.“It’s not funny. If you could see, I would ask you to look toward the dance floor where my wife,” Ash sneered the word, “is in the arms of a handsome budding pianist whom she has been faithfully fucking.”Woodrow’s smile faded. “Really? I’m sorry.”“I shouldn’t have said that. My lawyer would kill me.”“I won’t breathe a word of it.”Ash believed him. Woodrow had never been a gossip. He actually leaned toward the other extreme.“At least she knows how to be faithful to something, if not me.”“Don’t feel bad. When she gets tired of him, she’ll treat him the same way as she’s treated you.”“Doubtful, since she married me and that boy’s not rich enough for her. He won’t have to endure the illusion of a good marriage only to discover that his wife has slept with nearly every man from New York to Tokyo.”A quirky smile tugged at Woodrow’s lips, but he mastered it and managed to keep his expression serious.“Go ahead and laugh, but it’s the truth.”“I’m not laughing. I’m guessing she doesn’t know you know?”“Not yet, but soon.” Ash’s fingers stroked the sides of his wine glass. The urge to squeeze the glass until it broke almost overcame him. Sitting back, he drew a deep breath and released it slowly.“It’s not my business, but I always had the feeling she wasn’t your type,” Woodrow said. “She’s not good enough for you, my friend.”“Maybe it’s not entirely her fault. I guess my lyrics are far more exciting than I am.”Woodrow shrugged. “Depends on your idea of exciting, and lyrics don’t come from nowhere, you know. With the right woman, strange things can happen.”“Speaking of that, how are you and Dechrista?”“Great. We have our little arguments, but I’ve never been happier.”“I remember what that was like.”“You’re absolutely sure about that?”“What’s that supposed to mean?”Woodrow shrugged. “Just that sometimes you can think you’re happy when all you really are is content. Safe. Settled.”“This conversation is getting a little too deep for me.”“Sorry.” Woodrow lifted his chin, his head turning, as if he was looking for something, though Ash knew it was impossible. “Dechrista’s back from the ladies’ room. See her?”“Yes, she’s coming this way actually. How do you do that?”“What?”“Know when somebody’s coming even though you can’t see. That’s one thing about you I never could figure out.”Grinning, Woodrow pointed to his nose. “Exceptional sense of smell. It’s like a compensation.”
Excerpt from The Red Curtain


Thursday, December 25, 2008

Gingersnaps: Sugar Plums

Gingersnaps: Sugar Plums
by Kate Hill
Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-116-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Dark Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Legends, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash



Yule is here and it's an especially magical time at Hot River, unless you're Tarn. He's a grouch even for a Frost Giant and never fails to complain about the dismal winter mood being ruined by holiday cheer.
Old Man Winter has spent ages providing beautiful frosty weather but he's rarely allowed to join in the fun surrounding it. People look at him in fear and awe, never thinking he might want to join in the festivities.
The sulky frost giant stumbles upon the powerful, lonely and surprisingly passionate winter icon and Tarn finally learns just how enchanting the holiday season can be.


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.

Tarn’s bare feet sank into the snowy ground. He paused for a moment to gaze at the beauty of the crisp winter evening. Snow covered the land for as far as the eye could see. Icicles glimmered on the trees and ahead the surface of the frozen lake looked like fairy dust covering a glass mirror. To his left rushed the white waters of Hot River. In these parts even that enchanted water turned cool. This was Old Man Winter’s territory and here the magical river bowed to his will.
His miserable thoughts were interrupted by a shout from outside, then the sound of splashing and deep laughter.
What was going on? No Frost Giants trespassed here and no mere mortal could endure frolicking in the freezing water of the nearby lake.
Closing his eyes again, he tried to ignore the noise, but it was impossible.
Growling with annoyance, he rose to his feet and strode out of the cave. Tonight of all nights, no one would destroy his peace and quiet, not when he’d traveled so far to find it.
At the lake, he heard a loud creak, then the ice shattered and a tall, sleekly-muscled, smooth-scalped man with a long white beard and silvery flesh emerged from the frigid water. If Tarn hadn’t been so swept up in the sight of the man, he’d have noticed other spots in the lake where the ice was broken, cold water lapping the edges.
His gaze riveted toward Tarn and, naked, he strode toward the Frost Giant, his large, bare feet leaving tracks in the snow. Pausing a short distance from Tarn, he raised a snowy white eyebrow. Water dripped from his beard and the droplets froze before they hit the ground, shattering.
“What are you doing here, Frost Giant, when you should be in your village, enjoying the festivities?”
Tarn momentarily forgot his attraction to and curiosity about this man as annoyance again overtook him. “I hate holidays. They ruin the winter and give me a headache. Now I suggest you get out of this area. I came here to be alone and you’re disturbing my privacy.”
Maybe threatening this towering creature was a bad idea, but Tarn was too angry to care. He was thinking about the festivities again, people enjoying each other’s company, and it made him sick.
To his surprise, the man laughed. His slender lips curved upward and his blue eyes glistened with amusement. The sound of his deep chuckles made Tarn’s gut tighten, though not in anger. Everything about this man aroused him, from his sexy bald head to his enormous silver-white cock emerging from its haven of curly white hair. This man seemed to reflect winter itself, as if he was… No. It couldn’t be.
“You have a lot of nerve,” the man said, stepping nearer and placing a heavy hand on Tarn’s shoulder. “I appreciate that. Not many people would talk to me in that way. I have to warn you, though, if you want to visit my domain you’ll have to learn some manners.”
“Your domain?” Tarn asked, wondering if he looked as shocked as he felt, and as nervous. The last person anyone, mortal or magical, wanted to mess with was…
“Old Man Winter.” The man extended his hand to Tarn, who reached out hesitantly and grasped it.


Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Gingersnaps: Pole Serpent

Gingersnaps: Pole Serpent
by Reneé George

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-126-8
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash


Mire Darkly just wants to be left alone. Why else would an ice dragon isolate himself in a little town in Mexico during the hottest Christmas ever? Add in a mysterious local guy, a closing bar, and a game of pool -- Mire discovers it’s a combination guaranteed to double the heat.


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.

“This is totally whack,” Mire Darkly murmured as he wiped the sweat weeping over his brow.
It was Mire’s first night in town, and he was finding the climate, and the locals, less than hospitable or pleasant. Even with it being Christmas (a favorite of the humans), the heat made everyone miserable.
Carelessly, he threw on a pair of cotton shorts, a tank top, and his flip-flops and headed down the stone steps to the lobby bar. Earlier when he’d checked in, there had been a cool breeze from the window air conditioning unit, a saving grace if the bar was still open at two in the morning.
A young man, maybe late twenties, solid build, and thick dark hair, stood behind the bar cleaning a glass with a wet rag Mire suspected was less than fresh. The man unplugged a pitiful sprig strung with colored lights. A poor man’s Christmas tree.
“Cerrado,” the man said, rolling his R’s in a way that made Mire’s flesh dance.
“Uhm, do you speak English? Habla usted ingles?” Mire spoke a little Spanish, not much though, but enough to understand that the man had just told him the bar was “closed.” If he was going to convince him to stay open for a little while, it would help if they were speaking the same language.
The bartender rubbed another glass from the inside out, his intense stare betraying nothing more than boredom. “We’re closed,” he said in response.
“It’s really hot in my room. I was hoping to soak up some air so I could get some sleep.”
“Closed,” the man repeated.
Mire walked over to the pool table. The cool breeze of the air conditioner hit his back, delightfully chilling. His core temperature had to have hit a hundred and twenty degrees easily, and the small unit felt like an arctic blast. “La brisa esta rica,” he said, trying to charm the man with a phrase he knew.
“Look, mister. I don’t know how many ways you need to be told the bar is closed. Cerrado. Fermé. Chiuso. Geschlossen. Closed.”
Well, he was definitely putting a new spin on how Mire viewed the locals. The man had spoken Spanish, French, Italian, German, and English. A dichotomy. An educated guy in an impoverished village, working as a bartender. Getting cool was becoming secondary to his fascination with the local flavor.
“Shouldn’t you be at home with your wife and children? Christmas morning and all that ho-ho stuff.” Mire wasn’t above pursuing a married man, but it was good to know as much about your prey as possible.
“Closed,” the man repeated, giving nothing away.
Mire rolled a ball across the pool table. “I’m Mire Darkly. What’s your name?”
“Nadie.” He put a glass on the pyramid stack behind the bar. “I’m afraid I must ask you to return to your room, or go elsewhere.”
Nobody, huh? If the man wanted to be known as nobody, Mire would oblige. “Well, Nadie. This is a one-horse town, and I’m afraid this bar is the only watering hole.” Mire took off his tank top and rubbed his hand across his chest. “How about we play a game of eight-ball to decide if the place stays open for a while longer or not?”
Nadie put the wet towel over his shoulder. He came out from behind the bar, and Mire noticed his white T-shirt was stained with dust from the red clay that permeated the region. His faded jeans fit him snugly at the hips. His eyes narrowed as he drew closer to his unwelcome customer. “There is nothing in it for me. You win, you win. I win, you’ve succeeded in keeping the bar open for a while longer, you win.”
Up close, Nadie’s eyes were like the crystal clear cenote Mire had dipped in on his way to Itzen. They also had the same refreshing appeal. Mire blinked, then silently cursed at the change of expression on Nadie’s face. He must have blinked with his internal lids, something that would freak out even the heartiest of humans.
“What would you like as a prize?” he asked the bartender.


Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Gingersnaps: Christmas Party by Moira Rogers

Gingersnaps: Christmas Party
by Moira Rogers

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-110-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Werewolves, Christmas, Seasonal Themes
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash


Christmas parties stink. Literally. Between the spices and sugar cookies -- not to mention the mistletoe and the co-workers doing illicit things in dark corners -- a werewolf with delicate senses has more than she can handle. Luckily Zoe has an advantage this year: a dirty-minded boyfriend with an invitation to the most exclusive holiday event in New York City: Christmas at Last Call.


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 wasn’t Connor O’Malley’s best line ever, but he was pretty sure it would work. “Hey, baby. Wanna go see my monitoring area? It doubles as a server room.”
Having a certified computer geek as a girlfriend had its perks. Zoe eyed the crowded dance floor filled with drunken Christmas celebration and then glanced at him with a wicked little smile. “Can I touch your equipment?”
“Can’t wait ’til we get home?” He took her hand and avoided a cluster of people as they made their way toward the back hall.
One of the bartenders, Bernie, took his hand off a stacked drag queen’s ass and waved at them. Connor waved back as Zoe choked on a laugh. “I don’t think anyone’s waiting tonight.”
“Upstairs rooms are closed.” He swiped his card to call the elevator and waggled his eyebrows at her. “We could see some interesting things on the security feeds.”
“Live streaming porn?” The elevator dinged, and Zoe laughed as she tugged him through the open doors. “So, is there a camera in here?”
“In the elevator? Elementary, my dear. First place you put ’em.” He backed her against the wall and grinned. “Almost. Entrances, exits… and elevators.”
Her hand slipped between them and rubbed against his cock through his pants. “There goes your dirty elevator blowjob. You should have told me no.”
“Lying for sexual favors is tacky.” The car stopped, and Connor pressed her hand more firmly against him for a moment before backing away. “Not enough time, anyway.”
She growled a little, a clear sign her wolf was rising to the surface, and studied him with eyes gone suddenly predatory. His sweet little girlfriend in her cute party dress covered the space between them in two steps and a leap that ended with her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck.
Zoe made an approving noise and bit his chin. “Show me your hot-ass security set-up, baby.”

Monday, December 22, 2008

Acacia 3: Cravings by L. Shannon

Acacia III: Cravings
by L. Shannon

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-146-6
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal
Theme(s): Ménage, Bisexual and More, Vampires
Series: Acacia
Length: Novella


Hate crimes against vampires pose a rising threat to the moon colony of Acacia. Subversive attempts to destroy the colony are almost certainly being directed by the human purists on Rahla. Acacian agents have been murdered, and now their blood supply has been tampered with.
Counterintelligence operations have led to the capture of two werewolf warriors, more dangerous than anything either side has ever seen before. With their worlds on the brink of war, Queen Caitlin will do anything to protect her people, even if it means bartering her body to a pair of killers. But will her submission buy their loyalty?


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.

Queen Caitlin stood behind the inch-thick plas-glass security panel and waited for the slaves to come into the exercise room. It had been months since she’d had time to watch them on seventhday. This more relaxed side of them was a balm on her overly controlled life. The entrance opened and in came the boisterous group. There were no guards to direct them, no orders given or followed. Today they came here to play.
Several of the males headed for the floor mats and began sparring. Their glistening bodies held perfect balance between tense muscles and relaxed poise. As the sex slave class all did, they lived mostly naked. The men wore nothing but loose-fitting, nearly transparent pants and armbands which declared their owner’s house, family and status. The armbands these men and women wore were gold and studded with diamonds and Acacia’s rarest stone, the iridescent black ruby. No other vampire in all Acacia would so much as touch these slaves.
They were hers.
There were only five women among them. She looked at each and saw herself in their places. Like her, they were all tall and well formed with long black hair. Her men were more varied, but the women had each been chosen because of their resemblance to her. Their purpose was to enjoy the physical love which she could not. Through them she could experience everything without risk.
One girl caught her attention. She wasn’t with any of the others, not playing or talking or interacting. She was among them, but almost as if she was unseen. She walked across the room with purpose, moving toward a private chamber, one often used for sex.
Caitlin followed, moving into the connecting viewing chamber. This one looked directly into the bedroom. Although she had entered the chamber alone, the girl wasn’t alone now. Two men, great hulking warriors, stalked her around the bed.
The men… they were not hers. They shouldn’t be in there.
Caitlin’s feet refused to move. The scene held her entranced as she watched the men catch the girl between them. Eyes wide, the girl didn’t struggle. Too terrified? Perhaps. But their hands made short work of her thin dress, tearing it from her flesh like animals.
The girl was so much like her. She leaned against the glass. “Fight them. Get away.”
Looking her way, the girl said, “Acacia needs them.”
No, that wasn’t right. How could the girl see her? The plas-glass only worked one way.
It didn’t matter. The girl was being ravished, her body stroked and fondled roughly. The men were both so huge. Every part of them. At some point they’d removed their clothes. Each sported terrifyingly large genitals, erections so thick they would surely leave the girl bleeding.
One pulled the girl across the bed, holding her down and kissing her thoroughly. The other male dragged her legs apart and knelt between her pale thighs. His silvery gaze turned toward Caitlin, as if he, too, could see the observer. “I’d die to protect what is mine. Her world becomes mine to protect.”
The first male abandoned the girl’s lips to add his own affirmation. “As would I. Nothing will cause her harm.”
The silver-eyed one lifted the girl’s hips and drove into her body in one long stroke. All the while his gaze never left Caitlin. He made love to the girl, but every motion, caress, declaration was for Caitlin. Over and over they took the girl, using her roughly, but also bringing her to one climax after another, until she was too spent to do more than accept their bodies.
The two were without mercy. Surely they would be sated soon. How much longer could they continue?
Caitlin’s body throbbed with need. She felt their touches, enjoyed their pleasure. But release hovered just out of reach. She parted the folds of her robe, reaching down to her slick cleft. So close. Leaning against the glass she rubbed her thumb and fingers over the swollen nub of her clit. Pleasure rocked through her. Rotating her hips, she held to a controlled rhythm, forcing her body to go slow.
Inside the chamber, the second man took the girl, almost as if he were keeping to the same controlled rhythm. His cock plunged deep and withdrew over and over, in perfect time with Caitlin’s fingers.
Silver-eyes now stood at the glass, one hand resting over where she leaned. That huge hand, so close to hers… His other hand moved up and down his erection. He parted his lips, panting. His hand sped over the tip and slowed over the length. Over and over.
The waves of pleasure knifed through her and as her climax hit and stole her strength, they joined her. Both men found release with her. She sagged and would have fallen…
But the glass was gone. Both men caught her in their arms.
She should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. She felt safe. Which was ridiculous. “You can’t protect me.”
Silver-eyes tightened his arms around her. “We can if you’ll let us.”
The other one pressed his head against hers and whispered, “War is coming for you and yours. Only we can stop it. Only we can save you.”
She pushed at their heavy bodies, needing space. She didn’t need them. No. There had to be another way. Had to. Pushing… pushing…
Caitlin woke tangled in her blankets, pushing at the plush bed covering, desperate to escape the dream, the nightmare… the prescient vision.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Daemon's Revenge by Marteeka Karland

Daemon's Revenge
by Marteeka Karland

Cover art by Kassie Thrace
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-857-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, The Fetish Club, BDSM
Theme(s): Ménage, Vampires
Length: Novella


Ariel's been bad. She's pushed her big vampire "fuck buddy" just a little too far and now she's in for the ride of her life. But will Daemon leave her heart intact, or will he demand all she has to give?

Revenge has never been so sweet.


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’m gonna fuck you ’til neither of us can see straight!” Daemon was in no mood for games. “Then I’m gonna beat your ass ’til it’s red, and fuck you some more! Tonight, you’re my fucking whore.”
For the first time since I’d met him, Daemon was really pissed. He was also horny as hell. His cock stood out from his body, proud and thick. The large mushroom head was purple and swollen, like he was literally about to pop.
He had me flat on my back on a table. There were metal clamps designed to hold my wrists to the floor in a Y above my head. My body bent double, my legs clamped next to my wrists. A very large pillow supported my back and ass. I was totally open for his every whim, and I wasn’t averse to it at all. In fact, it made me pretty damned hot. I wanted him to use me, fuck me, in any way he saw fit, and I had a feeling that was exactly what I was going to get.
“You’re gonna have to do more than talk, vampire. I don’t think you’re man enough to make me want you anymore.”
Daemon roared until the pale blue veins stood out in his neck, his fists clenched so tightly blood trickled from his palms. Grabbing a bottle of lube on a table beside me, he squirted a glob onto his fingers, then shoved the tip of the bottle into my cunt and squeezed. The cool fluid gushed into my already wet pussy, and I almost cried out. I really needed to be fucked. I’m not talking about a slow-gentle-love-making fuck -- I’m talking a pound-my-pussy-into-oblivion-with-the-biggest-object-you-can-find fuck.
All the things Daemon had refused to give me because he believed in being gentle with women. It was that belief that kept him from making me officially his and from giving me what I wanted.
Bull fucking shit.
I wanted it nasty. I wanted Daemon unleashed.
“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Then why hook up with that bloody werewolf? Why record the entire session of nasty on HD DVD and send it to me? Why send a note telling me if I wouldn’t give you raunchy, you’d bloody get it somewhere else? As long as we’ve known each other, you had to have known that was the best way to get me to prove I can give you what you want.” He bared his fangs and hissed.
He was right. For an impossibly dominant vampire male, there was no way my little package would have gone over very well.
Which got me where I was now: flat on my back, my arms and legs clamped to the floor, stretched out so far my shoulders felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets. My pussy and ass were both exposed completely, and there was nothing I could do to escape.
Right where I wanted to be.
It was hard to keep the grin of triumph off my face.


Saturday, December 20, 2008

Short Story instead of the Radio Interview

Yeah, I know. No interview broadcast.

But to make up for it, I just whipped up my very first batch of freebie short story on my yahoo list. I hope you enjoy my short short story -- it's a preview for a story due out in March.



Radio Interview with Kate Douglas, Treva harte and Diane Whiteside today

Check http://www.radiodentata.com for more information!
Airing 4 PM EST

We recorded this broadcast in July of '08 at RWA Nationals and
we actually slipped in some good advice here and there, totally not meaning to. It can happen when you talk to authors who have seen a lot of stuff happen over the years.

Channeling Morpheus: Rebirth by Jordan Castillo Price

Channeling Morpheus: Rebirth
by Jordan Castillo Price

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-100-8
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Channeling Morpheus
Length: Novella

Michael has never put much stock in clichés, but there’s one he probably should have listened to: You can never go home again.

His family assures him that plenty of young people take a few semesters off between high school and college, that a year of travel is practically a prerequisite nowadays. Somehow Michael’s neglected to mention he’s not just driving around aimlessly, stopping only to have sex with his chain-smoking boyfriend -- he’s hunting vampires.

After a disastrous family reunion, Michael unearths a vampire commune where he and Wild Bill can settle down. But Michael is the only human in residence, and the other vampires can’t stop themselves from sniffing around him.
In the words of Wild Bill, “This can’t be good.”


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.

“We all know how hard losing Mary was on you,” my mother said.
How could she? I stared at the wall, fixed on a point over her shoulder, anything to avoid her eyes. Her kitchen felt small and strange. The curtains were new, I noticed, though I couldn’t have told you what the old ones looked like if my life depended on it. But the things that had stayed the same, while looking slightly different from the way I’d remembered them -- the refrigerator magnets, smaller, slightly faded, the spice rack, now dark with age, with its single mismatched jar that replaced the paprika Julie and I had knocked over when I chased her through the kitchen with a foot-long night crawler -- those things filled me with dread, and also with the realization that a road trip to Terre Haute, Indiana, had not been my most stellar idea.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Mary.” I realized it wasn’t true as soon as it was out of my mouth. Me, tracking down vampires and keeping them from hurting people? It had everything to do with Scary Mary.
“You’re not the only one who’s ever lost someone. For the last two and a half years, I thought I’d lost a son.”
My mom is such a bitch. She was glad to see me for maybe ten seconds, and then her face hardened, and her lips got so thin I thought they’d disappear. This was the look that said, “I was picking up laundry in your room and I found this magazine.” HotBoyz, to be exact. I’d told her that Scary Mary had left it there. And Mom claimed she believed me. But she’d given me that look that conveyed she was none too pleased that her son jerked off to pictures of naked men.
“It’s not unheard of for people to travel before college.” Mom started out tentative, but picked up steam as she went along, selling herself the idea. “I read an article that says lots of students think of a travel year as an unofficial prerequisite nowadays.”
“I’m not thinking about college right now.”
“Your test scores were so high. It’s late to apply for the fall, but your father could talk to the dean. You’d think that after, what is it now, ten years? Eleven. After all these years at the university, he’d be able to ask one little favor.”
“Some things are more important than college.”
“And the tuition would be taken care of. That’s part of your father’s benefits package.”
“Do you even hear words when I talk?”
That stopped her, finally. She pressed her lips together so hard they went white around the edges. The back door slammed, and feet pounded through the laundry room. “Is he here yet? Did I miss him? Stupid accident on the tollway. I was behind this dump truck for an hour and a half, and my phone died…”
Mom and I both stared at Julie as she burst into the kitchen. She sounded just like Mom. Exactly. Same cadence and rhythm to the words, like a car without a parking brake rolling downhill. She stopped when she saw me, though -- staggered as if I’d backhanded her. “Oh my God.”
She mashed herself against me and buried her face in the front of my shirt. I patted the back of her hair, which smelled amazing. She and I had never been huggy -- unless you count the photos of us playing Beverly Hills 90210 when I was eleven and she was nine. That was before she started high school and realized that her big brother was the antithesis of cool. That the jocks went out of their way to shove him into the lockers when they passed by him in the hall, and call him a fag -- which he already knew, and suspected that one or two of them might be as well, the way they stared at his lips when they thought he wasn’t looking.
“You smell like a frathouse buried in ashtrays.” She shoved back and looked at me. “And what’s with that scarf?”
I swallowed, and hoped it hadn’t slipped out of place. “You look good…”
“No, seriously. You smell. Are you homeless or something? Did you come here for money?”
“Julie,” Mom said. Just her name, but the tone was, “That’s enough, young lady.”
“I don’t want money,” I said. I didn’t need it. I had Wild Bill.
“No? You have a job?” Julie scoured me up and down with a look that said she doubted anyone would hire me.
“I’ve had jobs. We’re traveling right now.”
“We? Who’s we?”
“Michael brought his friend,” Mom said.
And this is where I realized that the whole idea that I could come home again was seriously twisted. Not only was I finally coming right out and telling them I was gay, I was breaking the news that I had no plans to go to college, and have a neat little apartment, and work a safe little job.
But I couldn’t tell them why.


Friday, December 19, 2008

Fortune's Flight by Lia Connor

Fortune's Flight
by Lia Connor

Cover art by Kassie Thrace
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-166-4
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Interracial, Ménage, Bisexual and More, Magic and Mayhem
Series: Fortune
Length: Novella


She’s no Mary but she’s quite contrary, and strange magics are how her garden grows.

Rosetta, too proud and too prickly to let anyone get close enough to win her heart, finds herself faced with mystery upon mystery when Mama Elise sends her to deliver the seed for a charmed tree to the Beast in the old manufactory. Her persistent suitor Bryan follows in her tracks and is caught up in the magical game when a Firebird -- who can take on the shape of a man -- arrives to entice hearts, minds, souls and bodies with his song.

Together with a worthy opponent and fiery lover in the roguish Bryan, Rosetta works to win the heart of the Firebird. But can she bring herself to sacrifice her pride for a chance at the passion of a lifetime with not one man, but two?


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.

A trick of the rose-hued rays of the late afternoon sun, and to Rosetta’s eyes the branches of the fallen tree outside the aged, nearly opaque window looked like the arms of a lover reaching out for someone’s hands they couldn’t quite grasp. The very tips, twigs barren of leaves, scratched and tapped at the glass, begging to be let in.
She had to draw that.
Focus trained on the window and the tree, Rosetta searched beneath the counter of the customer service desk where she’d drawn afternoon duty as Mama Elise’s clerk-of-the-day, hunting for her cheap spiral-bound notebook and one of her sharpened pencils. Someday she’d have the money saved for oil pencils in a hundred different rich, saturated colors and shades, and smooth, inviting linen paper to draw on. Someday.
She drew the first lines boldly. If you were going to sketch, you had to do it right. No dicking around with a hesitant stroke here and a tentative squiggle there. The bare tree limbs took shape almost without her looking at the paper, letting the feel of the moment guide her hands instead. Then, she didn’t want to look down. She almost had the mood captured, she knew it. If she let herself look at her work, the moment would be lost and the spell broken. A few more lines and --
A solid male body moved between Rosetta and the window, blocking her view with a sleek leather jacket, and a chest as solid as the Great Wall of China. “Pardon me, miss. You the one tending the register or are you just here to attract customers?”
Rosetta snapped her notebook shut, not wanting this joker to get a look at her work. “Say that last part again?” she asked, cross. She put her elbows on the counter before her. “Hey! My eyes are up here.” She snapped her fingers.
The man didn’t seem ashamed at having been caught checking out her rack. He laughed, raising his eyes to tell her she’d won the point, and mirrored her pose. The stance brought him closer to her than she’d have liked, barely a foot between their faces. He had green eyes, the deep green of new leaves, dark curling hair, and the kind of creamy-fair complexion that made her think of Ireland. She could smell the cold sharpness of the winter wind clinging to him.
Heat pulsed between her legs and Rosetta drew back, uncomfortable. “What do you want?”
“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘can I help you’ instead?” He didn’t try to touch her, but the open admiration in his gaze told Rosetta he certainly wanted to. “Word on the grapevine is that this apothecary, Mama Elise, can cure whatever ails you. That true?”
“Maybe,” Rosetta allowed, wary. “No uppers, no downers, no in-betweeners, no Viagra.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled when he was tickled. “I don’t need Viagra, thanks. I’m Bryan. And you are?”
“Not interested,” Rosetta lied, clipping the words short. She refused to squirm, not even to ease the slow pulse of arousal low and deep within. Guys like him, charming and roguish, weren’t worth the effort. All they were interested in was getting off, and if she had an urge she also had a small box devoted to toys she kept under her bed. “I’ll give you one more shot. What do you want?”
“Comfrey root.”
Rosetta raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”
“You sound surprised.”
She was. “Not too many people know what comfrey’s good for. Why do you want it?”
He winked at her. “Nothing’s better than comfrey for mending cuts and breaks, right?”
“Right,” Rosetta agreed, dubiously waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I figure it’d be good for a broken heart, and I’ll be crushed if I can’t convince you to take a break and come for a walk with me.”
The pencil Rosetta still held loosely between her fingers snapped under a sudden spasm of pressure. “If you think I’m dumb enough to go off with a guy I don’t know, you’re as simple-minded as you are pretty.” Damn.
“Pretty, huh?” He leaned closer, his breath smelling of sweet peppermint. “Why so many prickles, beautiful?”
Rosetta made herself drop the pieces of pencil rather than stab at him. “Don’t call me beautiful. Ever. Piss off.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked, a puzzled line forming between his eyebrows. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Because the only guys who ever say it are ones who want to get in my pants.”
“Who can blame them?” Bryan reached toward her, and though the movement wasn’t abrupt and he probably had something impossibly romantic like stroking her cheek or brushing a curl of her hair in mind, it was the last straw. Rosetta whipped her notebook at Bryan, thwacking him hard on top of the head.
Rosetta glared at him. “Now I’m in trouble. Thanks.”
Bryan rubbed the back of his head. “God, you’re a hellcat.”

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Gingersnaps: Summoning by Leila Brown

Gingersnaps: Summoning
by Leila Brown

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-121-3
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes, BDSM
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Christmas, Seasonal Themes
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash


Johnathan Brandon has spent every Winter Solstice alone. And each year his crazy college roommate sends him a Christmas present. This year said present comes with a set of instructions. It’s a mini figurine of a bare-chested Santa. To activate the tiny Santa he needs to make a wish at the first strike of midnight on Winter Solstice. At the last strike of midnight, Johnathan blinks and finds himself on the floor in front of a life-sized version of the statue. Bare chest, tented red velvet pants and all.


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.

Johnathan Brandon opened the yellow and red, garishly-decorated small box and read the return address. Mark Towlly, his old roommate. Mark never seemed to remember that Johnathan didn’t celebrate Christmas, he celebrated Solstice. They’d shared a room at Indiana State University for five years, and it was a crazy time. That was back when Johnathan had finally stopped fighting his attraction to men. It was also when he had learned that bad sex didn’t mean just sex with women. Sex with men could be just as bad and just as meaningless as sex with women. Mark was a great friend. A man not afraid of his sexuality.
And every year since graduation he’d received a box exactly like this tiny one. He’d call Mark tomorrow, thank him for the gift and remind him about the differences between their religions. Then he’d relegate the gift, whatever it was, to the back of his closet. Not that any of that mattered at the moment. At this point in time, all he wanted was to savor this moment. He loved to open the boxes -- the unknown excited him.
Johnathan ripped open the small box, careful not to damage whatever lay inside. It was a small Santa figurine. A Santa naked from the waist up. Actually, it looked more like a hard-bodied stripper than some jolly old potbellied man. The little figure fit inside the palm of his hand. He sat it down on the small table in front of him, then turned the box upside down.
A small piece of paper fell to the floor. Johnathan bent down and picked up the tiny scrap of paper. “Follow the instructions, make a naughty wish, and enjoy the holidays. Love, Mark.”
Instructions? He didn’t see any instructions. He turned the small piece of paper over and noticed some extremely small print.
Set the statuette on a table or a secure surface. At exactly midnight ask Nickolas for whatever you desire. You only get one wish so make it a good one. The makers of Wishful Fantasies cannot be held responsible for any death, destruction, or dismemberment that may occur from use of this product. Notice: Only one wish per Solstice.
Johnathan shook his head. Where the hell had Mark found this? Make a naughty wish, huh? He should make a wish. Then when he called Mark to thank him he wouldn’t have to lie.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Gingersnaps: Sophie's Present by Anne Kane

Gingersnaps: Sophie's Present
by Anne Kane

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-107-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, Daemonum, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash


As one of Santa’s elves, Dandy’s job is to make sure no one is forgotten at Christmas. So he made his list and checked it twice. He found Sophie at the top of his list of forgotten do-gooders, and when he checked her out he knew just what to do to make her Christmas the merriest ever.

When Santa made his rounds Christmas Eve, he dropped off a fantastic hunk at Sophie’s house, gift-wrapped for the occasion. Nickolie is a sex demon, and once she gets over the shock, Sophie has a wonderful time unwrapping her present and making sure it gets a good workout before it expires on Boxing Day.


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.


A loud noise dragged Sophie from her nap and she looked around with sleep-befuddled eyes. Mr. Whiskers sat on the top of the wicker hamper, ignoring her as he carefully groomed the fur on one sleek forepaw. She relaxed. The cat had probably knocked something off the counter. He wasn’t the most graceful animal. In fact, she’d never imagined a cat could be quite as clumsy as Mr. Whiskers.
She glanced over at the clock. Five past midnight. The bath water had cooled while she slept, and she shivered as she stood to reach for the fluffy towel hanging above the radiator. Wrapping herself in its welcoming warmth, she wandered into the bedroom and donned a pair of flannel pajamas. She rummaged quietly in the closet to locate Mr. Whiskers’ Christmas present. She knew it was silly, but every year she wrapped a present for her cat from Santa and put it under the tree. She tiptoed back to the front room to place the present under the tree. A gaily wrapped box already took up a good portion of the space under the little tree. Where had that come from? She picked it up to read the label.

Merry Christmas -- to Sophie from Santa. You’ve been a very nice girl this year.

There must be some mistake. She glanced around the room. She might be getting a little addled, living with only a cat for company, but she knew Santa didn’t really exist. Even if he did, she thought logically, he didn’t leave presents under her Christmas tree. A muffled sound drew her attention back to the present. She noticed tiny holes in the sides of the box. They looked like the air holes you’d punch out if you put a puppy in a box. Or a kitten. Intrigued, she put the box down on the table and glanced superstitiously at the clock. Ten past midnight. Good. Not that she believed in Santa, but you didn’t open his presents until Christmas Day. That was a rule, a very important one.

She glanced around one more time. Nope. No one at all in the room with her. She pulled the edge of the gold and silver ribbon, sliding it off the box. Carefully, just in case there really was a puppy in there, she lifted the flaps of the box and looked inside.

A dust bunny.

Big dark eyes stared up at her out of a mound of fluffy blue fur, looking for all the world like a psychedelic dust bunny. The creature made a tiny chirping noise and blinked.

Sophie reached in and pulled the little fluff ball out of the box, cuddling it against her chest. What is it? A small sheet of paper at the bottom of the box caught her attention and she pulled it out to read.

Congratulations on your new acquisition. His name is Nikolie. Please welcome him into your home and he will reward you with love beyond your wildest dreams.

She looked from the dust bunny to the note. Someone had a weird sense of humor. She placed the fuzzy blue creature back in the box, then added a plastic container of water in case it was thirsty.

She still wasn’t sure how the box had managed to get under her tree. Nervously, she made the rounds of her small home, checking each window and door to make sure the locks were secure. The only person with a house key was Mrs. Winters, the elderly lady who lived next door. She sometimes took deliveries for Sophie when she was out. Relief flooded her. Of course. The present had probably come when Sophie was at the homeless mission, and Mrs. Winters had thoughtfully put it under the tree.

Relieved at having solved the mystery, Sophie took one last peek at the little creature. Figuring out what to feed a little dust bunny would have to wait until morning. “Welcome to my home, Nikolie. We’ll get better acquainted in the morning, but right now, I’m going back to bed.” She closed the lid to keep Mr. Whiskers from snacking on her present and went back to her bedroom. Climbing into bed, she pulled the covers up snugly under her chin.


Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Gingersnap: Serendipity 7C by Lexxie Couper

Gingersnaps: Serendipity 7C
by Lexxie Couper

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-557-8
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Christmas, Seasonal Themes
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash


One lost Australian tourist. One mischievous Christmas sprite. One magical apartment complex. One Christmas gift to be remembered for a lifetime.
Welcome to Serendipity Estates, where accidental meetings, a little magic, and a bit of hot lust are a recipe for love ever after. We hope you enjoy your stay.


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.

Chilled to the bone, weary, dry-eyed and craving a beer more than ever, Jack McKenzie knocked on his cousin’s door.
The door swung open and a tall, willowy redhead regarded him with laughing grey eyes. A tall, willowy redhead with laughing grey eyes, long, long legs encased in worn black denim, and the fullest, softest lips Jack had ever seen. “Yes?”
He frowned, even as his body said Heeello. The redhead wasn’t Bruce. Bruce had never looked this good. “Um.” He bit back a muttered curse. Bloody brilliant conversation starter that is, Jack.
The redhead smiled, interest flickering in her smoky eyes. She tilted her head to the side a little and placed her hand against the doorjamb, unwittingly drawing Jack’s attention to the small, round perfection of her breasts snugged behind a pure white T-shirt. “Can I help you?”
“Um,” Jack began, and again mentally cringed at his inarticulate clumsiness. What was going on with him? Jet lag? Or had Tiffany sucked from him his ability to talk to a beautiful woman? She didn’t want him anymore, but she sure as hell didn’t want him to find anyone else? Okay, now you’re being paranoid.
He gave the redhead a slightly puzzled smile. “Is Bruce home?”
One finely arched auburn eyebrow cocked. “Bruce?”
Jack hitched his backpack higher onto his shoulder, trying not to shiver. The hallway was chilly, the snowstorm outside permeating Serendipity Estates’ internal structure, and his only jacket was most likely somewhere between Australia and Who-Knows-Where. “Bruce McKenzie.” He paused, waiting for the entirely too gorgeous woman to acknowledge his cousin’s name.
She didn’t.
“The bloke that lives here.” The statement sounded like a question, and Jack’s gut began to tighten. Why did this feel wrong?
“There’s no Bruce McKenzie here,” the woman replied, the sides of her mouth playing with a grin.
Jack shot the door another look. The silver 7 and the silver C hadn’t changed. This was the right address. So where was Bruce?
“Can I help you?” The husky murmur lifted Jack’s attention from his cousin’s less than flowery penmanship to the woman still standing in the door of apartment 7C. She was studying him with an unreadable expression. “You’re Australian, yes?”
Jack nodded. “Yes. And so’s my cousin who told me he lived here.” He shoved the small slip of paper back into his pocket. “Do you know of any Bruce McKenzie living around here? Maybe he just wrote the apartment number wrong.”
The woman shook her head, her long auburn hair tumbling over her straight shoulders in a glossy cascade that made Jack’s stomach and groin grow tight. “I don’t, I’m afraid. I’ve lived in Serendipity Estates since they were built. Trust me, your cousin has never lived in 7C.”
Jack suppressed a sigh. “Damn it.”
No luggage, no jacket and now no cousin. Which meant no shower, no toast, no beer and no bed. All with a bloody snowstorm cold enough to freeze the tits off a bull wreaking havoc outside. When he found Bruce, if he found Bruce, he was going to kill him. That was, if he didn’t freeze to death in the interim trying to hail a taxi. What a fantastic Christmas this was going to be.
Jack hitched his backpack further up his shoulder and gave the woman -- damn, she was gorgeous -- a wry, lopsided smile. “Well, I’m sorry to be a nuisance.” He took a step away from the door. “Have a nice --”
“Do you want to come in?”
The question stopped Jack dead in his tracks.