Mutiny in Chapter Three by Shelby Morgen

Mutiny in Chapter Three
by Shelby Morgen

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-103-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Humor
Theme(s): Ménage
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1081

Blurb:

Amy’s having a bad year. She’s lost her husband and her job and all she’s got left is a house with a mortgage and a book that refuses to be written. But she’s got Marley Davis, a great critique partner who never gives up on her, and a dozen Chapter Threes that just need to be turned into books. If only she could get past the sex scenes.
Jean and Danny -- or whoever their names are in this chapter -- have been stuck in these files far too long. They’ve had enough. Time for the characters to take over. It’ll take everything they’ve got, and maybe a little help from Marley, to save this book, but they’re not going down without a fight. It’s Mutiny… in Chapter Three.

Excerpt:

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

“Jean, I -- I have to tell you… I think I’m gay.”
“You’re only saying that because the writer wrote you in as my lover.”
“Wait. You’re gay?”
Jean heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “Not really. Though I’m so damn horny by now I’d fuck just about anyone. But it’ll never work between us, Danny. I’m Dawn’s lover, remember?”
“No, I wasn’t in that scene,” Danny reminded Jean with what sounded dangerously close to a whine. “I’m not supposed to know that.”
“Well, you’ll meet her in the middle of the chapter if we get that far, when she walks in on us.”
Danny looked over his shoulder, careful to make sure no one was watching. In a loud stage whisper, he said, “You mean -- I’m a plot device?”
Jean tossed his extremely long, way too blond hair over his shoulder with a well-practiced swing that knocked a lamp off the end table. “Look, Danny, here I am, gorgeous ex-male model, sitting sunbathing in these skimpy little Speedos not one other man in twenty would look good in, alone for the first time in three chapters, and I get a special delivery from a bike courier. An extremely hot bike courier in the skimpiest delivery uniform ever written, and one who has no more deliveries on his route this afternoon. Now all of a sudden you finally notice you’re gay. What do you think?”
Danny struck an appropriately melodramatic pose. “Oh, God, I am a plot device! And a not very well written one, either! I’m so shallow! What’s to become of me? My God, I’m likely to end up on the cutting room floor!”
“Ease up on the exclamation points.” Jean swept up the pieces of the broken lamp, giving Danny a clear view of his impressive ass. “Cutting rooms are for movies. Besides, who cares? Work this right, and we might finally get to have sex. According to the plot summary we get to fuck like rabbits for the next ten pages. And this time I’m not even a werewolf. It could be fun!”
Dismissing the werewolf plot without another thought, Danny ran a hand over his enormous, square cut, chiseled to a knife edge, peel the skin off your fingers -- ouch! -- manly jaw, his hard-on throbbing against his overly tight courier shorts. “Yeah. I can live with that. As long as we’re trapped in here…”
Jean whirled to face him, his deep ocean green eyes splattering surf on the carpet. “Trapped? What do you mean, trapped?”
Danny blinked. “Well, yeah… I mean, we can’t really go anywhere. Not till the author writes the next scene.”
“Like that’s going to happen,” Jean snorted. “I’ve been stuck in this chapter for three months.”
“Three months? Damn. What’s up with that? And, come to think of it, how do you know?”
Jean dropped the dramatic pose and flopped onto the lounger, his shoulders slumping. “Easy. She keeps writing the same scene over and over again. I stay the same, pretty much. You keep changing. But it never goes much past where you come to the door. Only since it’s not been you each time, you probably wouldn’t remember. It’s called Writer’s Block. She writes the scene, gets to the point where we’re supposed to fuck, and then next thing you know, this day starts all over for me. Looks like it’s happening again. I really thought it was going to work this time. I mean, you’re hot! I’m hotter. We’re both gorgeous, and available, so what’s the problem? I was really looking forward to a good fuck this time. I’m never going to get laid. Talk about blue balls… If she doesn’t pull this thing together soon, I’m going to delete myself.”
Danny dumped his courier bag on the floor and sat next to Jean. “Hey, come on. She can fix this. We’ll be fine. Don’t talk like that. I mean, it’s not her first book, is it?”
“Worse than that. She’s written six novellas -- none of them finished -- and this is her first try at writing a sex scene. They usually don’t get this far. I know. I checked her computer files.”
“Wait. You can access her computer files?”

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Moonlight and Magic by Mina Carter

Moonlight & Magic
by Mina Carter

cover art by Sahara Kelly
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-158-9
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Ménage
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1080

Blurb:

Moonlight & Magic isn’t your average club. Proudly marketed as a paranormal club, it boasts demon waiters and shifters as dancers, but none of these are as exotic as twins Daelas and Jaren, the club’s incubi owners.
Part Fae, Sage is looking for a demon. Not just any demon though, she wants a sex demon. She’s in for a disappointment, easily seeing through the glamour cast over the mainly mortal waiters. Then Daelas makes an appearance and decides, as soon as he lays eyes on her, that she is his.
However, the twins share everything, even their women. If one demon lover blows her mind, how is Sage going to cope with both?

Excerpt:

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

Daelas was bored.
Not a new feeling for the centuries-old demon, so he ignored it, trying to concentrate instead on the paperwork in front of him. He wasn’t doing so well. For some reason the club accounts, which normally kept him riveted, just weren’t holding his attention.
The numbers swam past his eyes as he chewed on the pencil in his hand. The wood cracked under his teeth, snapping him back to the present. He looked at the ruined end of the pencil and dropped it back into the pot in exasperation, picking a metal-barreled pen instead.
He needed to get laid. He was an incubus so that went without saying. He hadn’t seen any action for months. There were always other problems to take care of or his brother’s latest madcap scheme to clear up. Anyone would think he was years older than Jaren rather than just fifteen minutes. He sighed in resignation and shook his head to get rid of the buzz trying to settle behind his eyes.
He flopped back in his chair and turned it to face the club below, the one-way glass allowing him to see but not be seen. Like most weekends, it was busy. The throng of humanity below all sought something, be it amusement, companionship or darker deeds, conducted deeper in the shadows.
Pen tapping against his thigh, he looked down over the club, a brooding expression on his face as he tried to isolate the cause of the buzzing. No one brooded as well as a demon, and no demon brooded as well as Daelas. Well, apart from Jaren. The jury was still out on which brother brooded better.
The cacophony of human thought rising from the packed club below battered at Daelas’ mind. He was used to it. Usually he just ignored it, like a horse would a fly. When he wanted to, he could filter through the noise and latch onto just one set of thoughts, reading the emotions and desires of the human they belonged to. It was the way his species hunted: drawing their victims into their web to play on their thoughts and needs, seducing them to feed off their sexual energy.
Some, like Daelas, were so adept at it, so skilled at weaving their web around their victims, that all they had to do was crook a finger and their prey fell at their knees. Which was wonderful for stroking his male ego but it got lonely after a while. Just once he’d like a woman to see him for himself, rather than have her eyes glaze over when he got within a foot of her. To have a conversation… Longing hit him. To be able have a conversation with a woman without knowing he could click his fingers and have her under his spell would be wonderful.
But for that he’d need a woman with some sort of paranormal blood, or even a female demon. He shuddered, the thought exciting him a little even as it repulsed him. He didn’t want a female of his kind anywhere near him. Even if the chances of him and Jaren meeting their soul mate out here in the mortal world were slim, it was still preferable to getting saddled with a female sex demon for the rest of eternity. Beautiful and deadly but with the morals of an alley cat, a succubus would only destroy everything he and Jaren had built here.
Absently his gaze wandered over the full dance floor, sweeping the rest of the club. With ease born of practice he picked out the trouble spots, noting they were all clear. Everything seemed to be running like clockwork down there. He sighed a combination of relief and regret. He was bored. He wanted something to happen. Anything.
Then he felt it. Amongst the throng of humanity choking up the “airwaves” there was something else. The buzzing intensified, settling behind his eyes like a bad headache.
“Well, heeeello, what have we here?” he murmured, sitting forward with interest as he tried to isolate the feeling. It wasn’t human, that was for sure. Whatever species, it was alluring, lingering on the periphery of his senses, like trying to catch sight of something out of the corner of his eye.
A haunting feeling, similar to the sense of loss after harp strings had been stroked and the music had died away, filled him. “Where are you?” he whispered into the silent office, his sharp eyes riveted on the club below. “What are you?”




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SPOTLIGHT: Gargoyle's Quest by Nia K Foxx

SPOTLIGHT: Gargoyle’s Quest
by Nia K. Foxx

Cover art by Fabiano Fabris
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-261-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Interracial, Shapeshifters
Series: Gargoyles
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=200

Blurb:

For Lorn De LaRue, Gargoyles have always been as common place as the humans they are sworn to protect. It’s up to Lorn to make sure their existence is preserved -- by any means necessary. Right now the means would appear to be Dr. Fatima Smith, an ebony beauty who never imagined that her interest in Gothic folklore would force her into a world she had never known existed and into the arms of a creature who could not let her go.

Publisher’s Note: Gargoyles 1: Gargoyle’s Quest is book one of a serial, books meant to be read in order.

Excerpt:

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

Fatima fingered the dull ache just above her breastbone for the umpteenth time that evening. What’s wrong with me? She risked another glance at the stranger who’d entered the already crowded conference room just moments earlier. The dull ache on her chest turned to a deep throbbing.

The man literally stood head and shoulders above the rest. She estimated that he had to be 6’ 7”, if not taller. He was smartly dressed in dark slacks, matching collarless shirt and tan blazer. She hadn’t had a chance for a closer look, but even from her vantage point she could tell he was attractive. She wondered what university he was with. She was certain that she’d never seen him at any other of the Myths, Legends and Folklore conferences before. She blushed, turning her head quickly when he caught her observing him. At least she thought he’d caught her. From that distance he could’ve been looking at anyone in her general direction. “Dr. Smith, I’m looking forward to hearing your lecture on gargoyles tonight,” the mousy young man in front of Fatima was saying. He’d been talking for five minutes and she could honestly admit to only hearing a portion of what he’d uttered. “I had the opportunity to read your article in Mythology Today and was very intrigued by your theories on the origins of gargoyles. Your supporting material is some of the best I’ve seen,” he continued. She tried again to focus on what the young grad student was talking about, but found herself glancing sideways at the giant across the room. You’re here for the conference, to present your findings to fellow students of mythology. “Thank you,” she responded appropriately as the man continued to lay it on. “Excuse me,” the voice of her colleague, Professor Gordy Singleton, interrupted. He’d attained his tenured status a few years earlier, and Fatima had aligned herself with the budding professor after discovering his interest in Gothic folklore. “They’re ready to start seating everyone, and I want to make sure that we’re in our places before you’re called up for your presentation,” he explained. “Of course, Gordy,” Fatima placated, not wanting to experience one of his “high stress” episodes. “Please excuse me,” she apologized to the student as Gordy took a gentle hold of her exposed elbow. His hand felt cold and clammy against her bare skin. She looked down to where their flesh connected, noting the drastic contrast between her almost espresso coloring and his own alabaster fingers. Over their two-year acquaintance she’d become accustomed to the various peculiarities of his appearance like the perpetual sheen that coated his skin, giving his face an unhealthy glow, and the stringy ill-kempt hair that seemed perpetually plastered to his forehead. His features were delicate, reminding her of a teen on the cusp of manhood. Piercing sky blue eyes were his only redeeming physical quality, but they were perpetually hidden behind oversized spectacles. Gordy seemed to care little about his outward appearance, as he did nothing in the way of improvement. “Stop worrying. I’m sure things won’t start for several minutes,” she reassured him quietly. “I know,” he muttered, “but I thought I’d save you from your ever growing fan club.” He motioned with his head to the young man they’d abruptly left behind. “He was just being polite,” Fatima explained before wondering why she was even bothering. “I swear sometimes you are completely oblivious to male/female social cues,” he admonished. She groaned aloud. “Not again.” “What.” His look was innocent. “You know there are actually people who support and believe in my work out there.” She hated having to rehash this with him. Over the last two years they’d worked together Gordy had become increasingly protective of her. Why? She wasn’t sure; she’d never given him any indication that she wanted anything other than a professional relationship. If he kept this jealous lover act up she would sever their working ties completely. “Of course there are,” he offered, “it’s just that --” “Don’t, Gordy,” she interrupted, slipping her elbow from his grasp, determined not to let him dampen her mood. She was one of three speakers in this evening’s segment on Gothic folklore. She’d felt honored when the committee approached her about the opportunity seven months ago. As the only associate professor speaking, she felt the need to prove herself worthy of the privilege bestowed, and was determined that Gordy wasn’t going to ruin her night with his unwarranted possessiveness.
Gordy resisted the desire to maintain his hold on her, reminding himself that there were still three days left in the conference. Enough time for him to move beyond the position of co-worker that she’d relegated him to for so long. After all, he’d waited patiently until she came into her own, not wanting to start a relationship with some pseudo-professor. No, Fatima was not just a pretty face. She was well on her way to becoming an authority on Gothic folklore. What more could he want in a woman? He allowed her to take the lead, letting his gaze linger on her firm well-rounded backside swaying seductively in loose fitting slacks. She wore a pink silk top that clung to her slight waist, accentuating perfectly rounded breasts. He could feel the thickening of his cock as he thought about taking what he was sure to be dusky nipples in his mouth. Something caught her attention, causing her to turn her head. He was gifted with the perfection of her profile. Her pink tongue darted out over full lips and his eyes lingered for a moment as he thought of how those lips would taste, better still how they would look around his pink cock, swallowing him slowly. He imagined those whiskey colored eyes looking up at him with desire. He gave his head a mental shake, dislodging the image that had assisted in many nights of masturbation.

* * *

Lorn ignored the voluptuous catering assistant as she made what had to be her twentieth pass in front of him. Normally, he would have found her obvious flirtation amusing, but tonight he was on a mission. He’d followed various literary works on gargoyle mythology over the centuries hoping that somewhere a scholar could discover that vital piece of the puzzle he and his kind managed to overlook. Fledglings were the missing variable. The question remained did they still exist? From across the room his eyes zoomed in on the young woman whose recent research on gargoyle origins had fascinated him above any others. She looked even more beautiful in person than the picture his private investigator had supplied. He’d expected to find a studious face framed by owlish glasses, complete with a severe bun or some other form of disguise modern day career women used to downplay their looks. Instead, he discovered a woman who could just as easily given any Miss America a run for her money. The photo he had was taken while she chatted with a group of students in a coffeehouse. Oblivious to the photographer, the woman had been caught laughing over something said, her dark eyes rounded in surprise, teeth gleaming, while her hand clutched her chest. Lorn remembered searching the picture wondering who was responsible for the reaction. Unlike tonight, her thick shoulder length hair had hung loosely about her face, its dark tresses gleaming in the light. He was surprised at the primal way his body responded to her picture. The more he studied her image the more aroused he became until he finally tossed the photo aside, cursing his body’s reaction. He’d wondered if he was so far gone that he was beginning to lose control over his sexual functions. He’d heard of that happening to one of his brethren before the change finally claimed him. The gargoyle had said that his sexual drive was the only thing that provided sanity, emotion and a sense of connection to the world, while his heart became a stoned metaphor for his eventual transformation. Now standing in the bustling conference room Lorn found his cock stiffening again as it had when he first saw the photo of Dr. Fatima Smith. She talked with a modern day Poindexter, then with a man who seemed a tad too familiar. Lorn found himself grinding his teeth in an effort to keep his incisors from lengthening. Who was this man and why was he touching her?


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Dance Wars 2: Ruled by You by Sophia Titheniel

Dance Wars 2: Ruled By You
by Sophia Titheniel

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-150-3
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal
Theme(s): Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Dance Wars
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1078

Blurb:

Embattled Lovers…

Adair leads a very successful band of scavengers, bandits who prey on Pony Express riders and their motorbikes. But since the first night he spotted Lachlan in the crowd at the Chlodwig’s, Adair’s been far too relenting with captured Pony Express riders, and he’s been concentrating his efforts on winning the Dance Wars rather than snatching their prey.
Adair’s crew is getting suspicious -- has their leader gone soft? There’s no place in their world for a sappy Werewolf. Adair rashly promises a kill for their next capture -- only to have his world come crashing down on him when Lachlan’s motorbike falls in their trap.
Adair can’t go back on his word. Seems there may be only one option left -- one neither rider nor werewolf is ready to face…

Excerpt:

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

The sky beyond the window is slowly tinting with pale pink and amber-yellow. It slithers through the filthy glass and onto the rumpled, discarded sheets trailing on the floor, hesitating there for an instant as if asking permission before going up a pair of long, beautiful legs. It dances on panels of finely toned abs and lean, smooth pecs, to paint the skin golden.
Lachlan shifts in his sleep, a flurry of movement that has unruly blond hair falling across the sharp lines of his face, hiding him from Adair’s attentive scrutiny. Adair’s fingers curl in Lachlan’s forelock, pushing it off to the side. The light of morning gives Lachlan’s body an ethereal quality. Adair’s thumb runs across the sweep of Lachlan’s cheekbone, down to his jaw and up again to stroke kiss-bruised lips. A rather vivid image of those lips wrapped around his cock surfaces to the forefront of his mind. He swallows, elbows his way down on the bed until they’re level, and draws his fingers on the expanse of Lachlan’s chest. He’s loathe to wake him, but at the same time he knows he ought to. If he waits any longer they’ll probably find more scavengers afoot. The fact that his crew gives Adair a two day break before and after the full moon doesn’t mean everyone else is not taking advantage of his absence.
“Lachlan,” he whispers, palm skimming over his lover’s arm, down his side. “Lachlan, wake up.” A grunt, and Lachlan sinks deeper into the mattress, burying his face into the pillow. Adair leans closer, nudging his forehead with his chin. “Wake up, c’mon.”
The sound that Lachlan makes could’ve been anything between “fuck you,” “not ever,” and “forget it.” Adair doesn’t need to know; he thinks he’s got the gist anyway.
He tries not to sigh in frustration. They’ve been through it a hundred times. Lachlan’s as stubborn as a mule and twice as conceited. Somehow, the notion that something might happen to him, either coming or going from Washington every full moon, has completely escaped Lachlan’s self-assured ass. Of course, it works in Lachlan’s favor that Adair really doesn’t want to think about what could happen if Lachlan gets snatched by one of the crews -- and they both know he could. It’s like Lachlan simply refuses to contemplate the possibility, and it scares Adair, far more than he’s going to admit.
“I’m too good,” Lachlan had told him only the previous night, the light of the moon not yet faded from the sky and Adair’s eyes, the wolf’s instincts still rearing under Adair’s skin.
“Too insane,” Adair had growled as he toppled the both of them over the bed. They’d been frantic, burning with need after a month without seeing one another, and Adair hadn’t pressed the point.
Now, though. The sun’s rising, and soon it’ll be harder to avoid detection. Adair looks at the sharp dip of Lachlan’s jaw, the sunrise sharpening the collection of brilliantly red love bites down his breastbone and kicking Adair’s possessive streak into overdrive. He molds his hand over the finger-shaped bruises he’d etched on Lachlan’s hips earlier and pulls him closer, delivering tiny nips up Lachlan’s arm as he watches him cling to sleep with eyes screwed tightly shut.
“C’mon, it’s past dawn already,” Adair whispers, trying and failing to sound stern, his breath blowing cool over saliva-damp patches of skin. He can’t resist sinking his teeth a little harder on the tender hickey on the juncture of Lachlan’s neck, remembering how he’d pushed him face first on the bedding, mouth branding every inch of Lachlan’s upper body as Adair fucked him with rough, short thrusts, taking Lachlan to the edge and pulling him back so many times that Lachlan had been crying by the time Adair had finally allowed him to come.
“Ngh,” Lachlan grunts eloquently, but he arches backwards against Adair’s chest, still halfway between conscious and dream, turning his head to the side to bare his neck for Adair’s pleasure.
The submissive act stirs ever-burning coals in Adair’s gut, and he spans the width of his hand over Lachlan’s belly, fitting himself to his back as he licks a line from the furled tip of Lachlan’s ear down to the ruby-red mark on his shoulder. He can see Lachlan’s cock from this angle, already half hard and heavy between lean, muscular thighs. He sneaks his other arm under Lachlan’s armpit, circling his waist and lazily fisting the base of Lachlan’s cock, giving it a couple of soft, slow pulls and grinning against the back of Lachlan’s head when he hears him groan.
“Oh no you don’t,” Lachlan mumbles, angled elbows trying halfheartedly to pull back. “No nookie. Sleep.”




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So Many Wolves by Leona Grey

So Many Wolves
by Leona Grey

cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-155-8
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Ménage, Werewolves, BBW
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1083

Blurb:

Julia has been looking forward to her friend’s weeklong Mardi Gras party for months. Not only does she love Mardi Gras, she also knows David, who rejected her, will be there, and she intends to show him just how sexy a curvy woman can be. Then she meets the mysterious and ruggedly handsome Galen, who pushes all thoughts of David out of her head. But the party takes on a whole new meaning when she finds out he’s a werewolf, along with most of the male guests. And they all came to see her. So what’s a girl to do with so many wolves?

Excerpt:

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

The guests had started arriving about an hour ago, all in their costumes. A pharaoh walked by with Lady Godiva on his arm, and Eve was dancing with a serpent. Julia wore her new clothes, fangs that slipped over her canines, and dark gothic makeup that made her green eyes smolder. She kept her psychic senses open as she scanned the room for David.
In her teen years, she had sometimes gotten impressions from people or objects but other things had been more important to her at the time, like boys and hairspray. A few months ago, it was brought back to her attention. She’d shared a cab with a nervous young man, and when he’d accidentally bumped her with his elbow she knew his nervousness was because he was about to propose to his girlfriend.
That same day, she went out and bought a book on developing her psychic senses. She’d even considered trying to find a teacher or mentor when she saw a wedding announcement for the young man in the paper.
“He’s standing over there, in the sailor suit,” Alanna said irritably, pointing to David using her fairy wand.
“Look, Alanna, I’m not interested in him anymore. I just… I don’t know why, but for some reason I need him to see me like this. Just once, I want him to look at me like a woman and not just another friendly fat girl.” Julia knew that his opinion of her shouldn’t matter. She even felt kind of ashamed for dressing up like this, but an evil little part of her brain wanted David to want her, just so she could turn him down.
“But why? There are other guys here who think you’re sexy.”
“I actually liked him. I even asked him out once. It would be unbelievably satisfying to turn him down, Mr. Blond Hair and Blue Eyes All-American Man. It’s probably petty, but I need this. Okay?”
“And after this, you won’t worry about him anymore?”
“Of course not! I wouldn’t date him now if he asked.”
“Well, come back when you’re done, so I can talk to you.”
“All right, I will. Here goes.” Julia flashed a mischievous grin as she swayed over to the drinks table. She wasn’t too intent on her target to notice that the man talking to Collin was watching her every move, though.
“Excuse me,” she said as she squeezed between David and a medieval knight. “I need some water.” She leaned over the table just a little so the server could hear her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that David was looking her over.
“Nice outfit,” he said with a smile in his voice. She smiled around her fangs and looked up at him. “Thanks,” she said as she turned to watch a guy in a caveman outfit walk by.
“Oh, hey, Julia! I didn’t recognize you.”
“Oh, um, Kevin, right?”
“David. I’m Collin’s friend.” Still, she did not look at him, just to let him know how disinterested she was. “Do you want to dance?” he asked.
“No, but thanks anyway.” With that, she grinned and sauntered over to Alanna, proud of herself for ignoring him so well when he was finally showing interest. Alanna grinned back at her.
“See that guy talking to Collin?” Alanna asked. “He’s been asking about you. He’s a contractor Collin works with sometimes.”
Julia peeked over at him, studying him while he was turned away from her. He was dressed as a pirate with one of those puffy white shirts, a sash, and a sword. It looked pretty realistic, especially since his head was shaven and she could see that he had a tattoo on his neck.
“Seriously, when you were with David, Galen -- that’s his name -- didn’t take his eyes off you one time.”
She peeked over at him again, and this time he was looking at her. His shirt was open, showcasing a thick, muscular chest. He had the type of body a man gets from physical labor, not from spending half his life in the gym. She had always found that extremely appealing. He had a dark goatee, and his blue eyes studied her boldly. He moved toward them, holding Julia’s gaze.
“Hi, I’m Galen.” His deep, gravelly voice matched his rugged features and strong jaw. “Would you like to dance?”
“Yes.” She sounded more interested than she meant to when she said that, but he just put his hand on the small of her back and led her to the dance floor. She could tell his hand was large because she could feel the heat of it, even through the thick brocade of her corset. Alanna watched them with amusement as she talked to her husband.
“My name is Julia, by the way.”
“I know. I asked Collin about you.”
“Really? Why?”
He stopped and looked at her. “Because you are the sexiest woman here.”

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Shifting Priorities: Mating Call by Anne Kane

Shifting Priorities: Mating Call
by Anne Kane

cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-065-0
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Shapeshifters
Series: Shifting Priorities
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1074

Blurb:

Cali grew up alone in the unforgiving alleys of post-Empire Earth. She learned how to use her big blue eyes, blonde hair and innocent face to con a living from gullible males throughout the galaxy.
But when she decides to charm her way onto Darien’s shuttle to steal the data codes for his new security system, she gets more than she bargained for. Pirates, an old acquaintance and an irresistibly sexy Imperial were-panther all make it a voyage she won’t forget any time soon.

Excerpt:

He settled his large frame into the booth and let his gaze slide back to the blonde. Heat pooled in his loins as he watched her sashay her tight little ass across the dance floor. Her long, honey-gold hair rippled and shone with every move she made, the ever-changing colors of the lights above the dance floor picking out the highlights. He could just imagine it spread gloriously across her naked body while she writhed under him in the throes of passion.

He gave a mental shake. No point in getting ahead of himself. His security systems were first class. She probably wanted him to set up a system for her lover. Or lovers. She looked like a real handful. He watched her wrap her arms around the neck of the Adillon she'd been dancing with, giving him a smoldering kiss before she glided over to the bar and accepted a drink from Jack. The stunned expression on the man's face caused Darien to chuckle softly. She certainly knew how to tease.

He pretended not to watch as Jack bent to talk to her, nodding in the direction of Darien's table. She threw him a speculative glance that made him wonder what, exactly, she wanted. He gave a mental shrug and took another long pull on his beer. He'd find out soon enough.

The girl slipped a cred chip to Jack and sauntered over to his table. Leaning one hip against the cold marble top, she fav2ored him with a brilliant smile as she set her glass down on the table. "Care to dance?"

Darien grinned up at her as he unfolded himself from the booth. "Certainly." He took the hand she extended and let her lead him to the floor. "I don't believe we know each other."

She flashed him a sparkling white smile that sent a delicious flame curling around his spine. "Not yet."

He lifted a brow. "Is that an invitation?"

"Perhaps."

He smiled, relaxing. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed the company of a flirtatious female.

They reached the dance floor and she turned to face him, placing her hands lightly on his shoulders while she made eye contact. "I'm Calidar Ta Nokis. My friends call me Cali." She stepped into the beat of the music, her body swaying enticingly just inches from his.

"Nice to meet you, Calidar Ta Nokis. My name's Darien." He let the beat of the music guide his movements, amazed at how easy he found it to follow her lead.

She regarded him quizzically. "Just Darien?"

He nodded. "Just Darien."

She raised her eyebrows, the faintest hint of a smile curving those luscious lips. "Well then, just Darien, I'm glad to meet you."

They danced in silence for a few minutes, Cali taunting him with her body, swaying in close without touching, and then backing up to put distance between them. Her tantalizing scent filled him and he felt his balls tighten in anticipation. She had no idea how dangerous a game she played. His instinctive reaction to her astounded him. He had to fight the urge to sweep her up in his arms and take her somewhere else. Somewhere private, where he could take his time exploring every sweet, seductive inch of her.

The music turned dark, swirling about them in a seductive stream. Cali raised her chin, her eyes dark sapphire pools under the throbbing lights. Slowly, she extended her tongue and licked her lips, leaving them wet and glistening.

Darien stumbled, losing the beat of the music for a second. What the hell kind of game did the little minx think she was playing? The knowing glint in her eyes told him she knew exactly what had caused him to stumble. She certainly wasn't as innocent as she looked. He wondered how far she planned to take this.

He caught her gaze and held it while he slowly bent down to take her lips in a slow, sinful kiss that lasted an eternity. He traced the outline of her lips with his tongue, teasing gently until she opened to allow him in, both of them still swaying to the soft rhythm of the music.

His tongue dipped deep to explore the inside of her mouth. She tasted of honeyed wine and sweet, sultry nights and he couldn't get enough. Her lips were soft and sweet and inviting, the taste of her an enticing addiction. He groaned and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her to draw her in closer, letting her feel the hard length of his shaft pressed against her soft belly. His enhanced senses allowed him to smell the heady aroma of her wet sex as she rolled her hips against him.

She lifted her arms to wind them around his neck, running her fingers through his hair. He paused to drag some oxygen into his starving lungs and stared down into her eyes, the deep blue clouded with passion.

They stayed like that, wrapped tight against each other, swaying to the beat of the music. Darien ran his hand down her spine and let it rest on her tight buttocks. He couldn't believe how much she aroused him. They were in a public bar, both fully clothed, and yet he could barely restrain himself from ripping those clothes off and sinking into her soft, sweet body right here, right now.

"Are you here with someone?" He held his breath as he waited for her answer. Surely, she wouldn't have behaved so brazenly on the dance floor if she were already spoken for. He couldn't imaging any male tolerating it, no matter how casual the relationship. It didn't matter, really. She'd sealed her own fate the minute she'd asked him to dance. He wanted her. Now. Naked. Spread wide under him.

She tossed her hair back, and his gaze followed the silky glide of it over her shoulders. "No."

He smiled, knowing it to be a predatory display of big, white teeth. "Perhaps you'd care to join me in one of the private booths?" Her smile faltered, just a bit. He wondered if she sensed the danger lurking beneath his smooth exterior.

She lifted her chin to look him in the eyes. "I'd love to."

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Wolf Mates: An American Werewolf in Hoboken by Dakota Cassidy

SPOTLIGHT: An American Werewolf in Hoboken
by Dakota Cassidy
Cover art by Angela Knight
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-068-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Humor
Theme(s): Werewolves
Series: Wolf Mates
Length: Novella




http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=55





Blurb:

No, no... I know what you’re thinking, but don’t let the cover fool you... this is not a BDSM story!! And it ain’t your typical werewolf tale either.JC Jensen, a hairdresser in Hoboken, New Jersey, is happy living alone and focusing on her career. JC decides that maybe a dog might be a better companion than the boyfriends she’s had, so she heads off to her local animal shelter to find a puppy that needs a home. Like a cute ball of fluff, ya know?When she comes home, it's with a beast that the shelter says is part wolf -- and destined to die. He’s mean, he's ornery, he has enough fleas to require fumigation, and he’s a hairdresser’s nightmare, but JC is compelled to adopt him. The shelter is amazed when he only responds to her (no surprise for you there I’ll bet). After a trip to PETsMART and a bath, JC dubs her new buddy Fluffy. Fluffy loves steak and hates her ex-boyfriend Jess, which is just fine by JC. He’s her perfect match -- so perfect she thinks if only he were a man they could pick out china together.But Fluffy likes to roam and when he takes off one night JC’s new neighbor Max Adams consoles her by inviting her in for pizza. Max is hot and he has a great head of hair. JC and Max have nothing in common -- he’s a country boy and she’s a city girl -- but sexually speaking (you knew that was coming, didn’t you?) Max is like no other man she’s met. He does have some peculiarities though…like a strange affinity for red meat, and his allergic reaction to anything silver. All of this has JC wondering where Max comes from and why -- despite their differences -- she can’t keep her hands off of him… Oh, and the biggest plus of all? Max really digs her big, mangy mutt Fluffy…

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

Praise for An American Werewolf in Hoboken

"The erotica is a perfect weave of spice and sensuality. I really enjoyed the richness of the character development, and lots of giggles and full-on laughter throughout."
4 Tombstones! -- Jaded, Bitten by Books

"Ms. Cassidy's blend of humor and lust make for a marvelous read... [This] is a terrific book and I'm looking forward to more sinful humor from Ms. Cassidy."
-- Romance Junkies

"If only we could all meet our soul mates at the pound... In addition to the humor in this short novel there are many erotic scenes. These scenes are scorchers with so much sizzle you need a cold shower to calm down from them."
-- Marina, Cupid's Library Reviews

"This light-hearted romp is sexy and fun--vintage Dakota Cassidy. A fast, fun read--a perfect beach book (though the people in the next lounge chair over will wonder why you keep laughing so hard)."
-- Gillian Fitzgerald for Sensual Romance





Excerpt:

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

Prologue

He ran as though the hounds of hell chased him, pounding the pavement with swift, measured strides. The click of his nails echoed in the rain soaked, empty streets. Flashes of buildings passed in a blur as his eyes sought frantically to find food. His long tongue slipped out of the side of his mouth, draping down over the thick hair that covered his chin -- er, muzzle.Panting, he eyed each alleyway from his peripheral vision, searching…The smells of the city assaulted his ultra sensitive nose. He sniffed the air, picking up the scent of broiled steak, pork chops with thick brown gravy, veal medallions in a creamy white sauce with sliced onion, and a sprig of parsley for garnish. Scalloped potatoes… no wait, they were au gratin.Oh, hell he was hungry.Shit, he really loved veal too… Wee little succulent morsels of calf that he couldn’t have right now because he was too damn busy playing this stupid game of “here, doggy, doggy.” Which he wouldn’t be doing if it weren’t for this vision.A sharp whistle stopped him in his tracks and again his ears pricked to the tune of, “Here, doggy, doggy!”Address me as I should be addressed. It’s Mr. Werewolf to you…If he could sigh he would. Instead he flared his nostrils and huffed.Did it get any worse than this? I mean, c’mon… who was this vision anyway? This soulmate who was supposed to rock his world? And where was it written that he had to play Mission Impossible just to get laid? This was above and beyond the call of duty for a little horizontal mambo.He hated all of this mumbo-jumbo folklore crap he’d been taught since he was a child. He really just wanted to hang out and play Nintendo 64. But the call of a good lay beckoned… or that’s what he heard it was going to be anyway. A good lay… good as opposed to none. He sure as hell hoped his soulmate appreciated this, cuz it was a crappy way to hook-up in his estimation.The Prophecy has spoken, Eva said…Prophecy? Hah! What kind of prophecy had you running around a town called Hoboken, with the butt crack squad hot on your heels? What kind of prophecy was found in a bowl of chicken noodle soup? But his family members claimed Eva knew all. How one could “know all” from processed chicken in a can was beyond him.Although, legend had it that if he didn’t follow his stupid path of destiny, he was shit for shineola. He’d have to face the mojo of all mojos. So, rather than risk the possibility that this destiny of his was flat-out stupid and it wasn’t worth a really freaky curse, he ran.Fast.Because he couldn’t afford to be caught and miss this prophecy thing.Racing down a deserted, dimly lit street, he spied a chain link fence that might be his ticket outta this.Except he had four paws and not a pair of legs to climb said fence.Well, shit.The thunder of feet diminished behind him. Maybe they’d given up. His ears pricked to the tune of the clink of the fence as the men climbed it.A bright light cornered him as he swept past a dumpster, only to find a dead end.Fucking ducky…“Hey look, he’s friggin’ huge,” one of the men commented.Ahh, the animal catching engineer… isn’t that what they called them now? Bright indeed, very bright. Damn right he was huge and he was going to take a bite out of his engineer ass if he came any closer.“Wait,” one of the bright twins said, “I’ve got something for him.” He began to dig around in his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag.He watched skeptically from the corner he was backed into and sniffed the air.“Look, puppy… look what I have…” Wiggling the meat in air, the animal catching engineer shook it at him. Obviously this was meant to entice him.He sniffed liberally the air that surrounded the meat. Oh, fuck that. It was going to take a helluva lot more than some cheap round steak to get him to bite. He was a filet mignon kind of guy…His stomach growled in protest, meaning, round steak was better than no steak.Well, okay, he’d bite. He could easily knock this guy out as he snatched the meat from him. Snarling, he came closer, moving in on Einstein’s hand, exposing his teeth.Teeth… it was all about showing them the teeth. Freaked everybody out.He leapt in an arc Bruce Jenner would be envious of, snatching the meat and gobbling it halfway down his throat when he felt the sting of the dart.If he could, he would have sighed at how predictable that had been. Well, fuck, he thought as he fell to the ground with a hard thud and the world began to spin… looked like he was going to the pound.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=55

Runaway by Amanda Steiger

Runaway
by Amanda Steiger
Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-855-5
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella




http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1066





Blurb:
Keith is a werewolf on the run. Several years ago, he fled his pack and its cruel alpha and has been moving from place to place ever since: a lone drifter. Then he meets Taylor, a recently infected lycanthrope. As Keith helps Taylor come to terms with his nature, a powerful attraction grows between them… but Keith’s past comes back to haunt him in the form of Lucas, his vindictive ex-alpha. Now, Keith and Taylor must fight for their lives and freedom.





Excerpt:

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
It was the smell that had first caught his attention -- the sharp, musky, unmistakable smell of wolf.
The man sat alone in a corner of the diner, wearing an oversized sweatshirt. His brown hair hung disheveled and wild around his face, and his eyes held a faraway, haunted look. As Keith watched, his fingers tightened on the handle of his coffee cup and a patch of dark fur sprouted on the back of his wrist. The man shut his eyes. Sweat gleamed on his brow as he breathed in deeply, and a moment later, the fur receded back into his skin.
Keith sipped his coffee. There wasn’t a pack anywhere within a hundred miles. The presence of another werewolf here, now, could only mean one of two things. Either the young man was new -- recently infected -- or he was a stray, like Keith.
When the young man left the diner, Keith followed him down the street to the bridge at the edge of town. Thunder growled, and lightning split the dark sky. Below, the rain-swollen river frothed and churned. Clouds of muddy foam, like chocolate mousse, swirled over the surface. The young man stared at the water, gripping the cement rail with both hands.
“Hey!” Keith called.
The man tensed and turned to face him. His lips pulled back from sharp teeth and his eyes flared a bright yellow. “Stay back!” he shouted.
Keith held up both hands, palms out. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to ask you a few questions. How long have you been a werewolf?”
His eyes widened. “You’re crazy. There’s no such thing as werewolves.”
“There’s no use denying. I can smell it.”
The young man turned to run. Keith lunged and grabbed his wrist.
“Let go!”
“Listen to me. I can help you.”
“No one can help me.”
Keith’s grip tightened. The young man’s pulse drummed under his fingers. “At least give me a chance.”
The man looked up, and Keith saw something change in those eyes. The fear was still there, but there was a flicker of hope, as well -- a desperate desire to believe the truth in his words.
“What’s your name?” asked Keith.
“Taylor. Taylor Brandon.”
“How long have you been a werewolf?”
“A few months.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“No.” Taylor hesitated. “You said you could help me. Does that mean there’s a cure?”
“No, but I can teach you how to control the changes, how to live with what you are. I’m like you. I’m a werewolf.”
“You?”
“That’s right. We’re the same. Let me help you. Please.”
Taylor looked down at the river, then back at Keith. With his wet hair and clothes plastered to his body, he looked smaller than he was and vulnerable. Lost. “I have nowhere to go. No home. No money.”
Keith placed his hands on Taylor’s shoulders and felt him shivering. “I’ll take you to my place. Once you warm up and get some dry clothes, we can talk.”

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1066

Breathe 1: Sanguine Shadows by Willa Okati

Breathe 1: Sanguine Shadows
by Willa Okati
Cover art by Zuri
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-167-1
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Breathe
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1073





Blurb:

This is where everything changes.
Darce has done his best to live off the radar as one of the bloodkind, keeping himself separate from the company of other vampires and the danger they court. The cowboy might be lonely in his solitude, but he’s safe.
Raven’s come to change that. He’s come to change everything.
A newly made bloodkind, Raven’s out to shake up the old world order that oppresses their kind. He carries Darce along in his wake like a leaf on the tide, pushes and goads and tops from the bottom, inciting Darce to lust, passion and action. He makes a centuries-old cowboy feel alive again, something well worth taking risks for.
But when Raven challenges the Sanguine, the most dangerous of all vampires, has he gone too far?

Excerpt:

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

All he’d wanted was a quiet drink.
Darce swirled the drop or three of tequila left in his shot glass and raised it to the guy who tended bar in this backwoods dive. If he had a name, or if the bar did, Darce didn’t know it and he liked it that way. Tall and skinny as a pool cue, his head shaved just as bald, he didn’t talk much and took Darce’s glass with a grunt. Didn’t ask what Darce wanted. You had your choice here of PBR, Bud, Jose and JD. Like ’em or find somewhere else to drink.
Tequila suited Darce fine. Didn’t do anything for him, no, his being a dead man walking and all -- vampire, as some might say -- but he’d developed a taste for agave over the years. He held up one finger. Already had two, and three was one more than his usual.
The bartender shrugged, not giving too much of a damn. Maybe the folks around here knew what he was. Maybe they didn’t. Knew enough to keep their mouths shut, anyway.
One more drink in peace and it’d be time to walk. He had a peaceful stretch of road home, nothing but the cicadas and bullfrogs and the yellow half-moon to guide him on his way. Nothing to hinder him.
Until the stranger slid onto the bar stool next to Darce and jostled him like they were old friends, bumping his shoulder. “I’ve got this one,” he said. Sounded young. “One for me, too.”
The bartender eyed Darce’s new companion.
“I’ll pay my own way,” Darce said; that, and nothing more.
“Ouch. Not too friendly there, cowboy,” the new arrival said. He swung around to give Darce a bold once-over.
Out of his peripheral vision, Darce got a good enough look at the new kid. Pretty. Fresh-faced and young, his jaw cut firm and his grin made for promising wicked deeds in the dark. He had a dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks that nearly tempted Darce into a snort of humor because he’d seen a lot in his time but a vampire with a scattering of pale sepia freckles was a new one on even him.
“I’m Raven,” the vamp said, offering his hand along with his unlikely name. Darce snorted quietly. Raven, Silvershadow, Witchlight, Darce had heard ’em all and believed none. This one would be newly made, then, not knowing of the rules by which their kind lived. Which were no rules at all, for the most part, except to watch your back in case someone was sneaking up to shove a silver knife in it, and most of all to keep to yourself.
“That a fact,” Darce said, not asking it. He caught the shot glass as the bartender slid it his way, amber drops spilling over the backs of his fingers.
Raven waited, then laughed under his breath. “And you’re not going to tell me your name. That’s okay. I already know who you are.”
Darce stilled. That was more than he cared to have bandied about. “You’d be wise to keep that to yourself. That and your own name. Names get you in trouble.”
“Do they really,” Raven murmured. He swallowed his drink like a man with nary a grimace nor a cough. Not new to that game, at least.
Darce shot him a sideways glare. He shook his hair back and slammed the tequila neat, no salt or lime around here. Damn hair; it’d been long, near to chin length when he’d come across, and no matter how he cut it back it’d grow out by the next new moon.
Freckles there had short hair, crisp-cut dark, some kind of gel keeping it stuck up in spikes that looked sharp enough to prick a finger on. So young he was damn near veal, and fresh meat for any who cared to take a bite. No wonder he’d been turned. Someone had wanted to keep him that young and pretty for good, was Darce’s bet.
And he’d gotten away. Darce wondered how, for a second, then discarded the question. Not his business. He backslapped his empty shot glass across the bar and licked his lips to get the last of the burning-hot taste off them.
“Now there’s a pretty sight,” Raven said, his gaze hot where it glanced over Darce’s face.
A vampire sometimes liked to pretend to breathe, to mix in all the better, and for the most part Darce did it well. He drew air in through his nose and let it out slow and smooth. “You want to watch that kind of talk around here,” he said. “Matter of fact, you want to keep your mouth tighter shut overall if you don’t want trouble.”
Raven laughed loud enough to draw a few wary looks. No one who drank in that backwater Texas dive wanted to draw attention, except this young’un. “You honestly think you’re fooling anyone?” He lazily drew his finger around the rim of his shot glass. “Look around you, old man. Pretty crowded in here tonight for a place like this. I count fifteen heads, yours and mine and Baldy’s not included, and it’s not a big bar. Yet there’s an empty space three men deep all around you. No one wants to get too close. They all know, even if they don’t say. Maybe they don’t want to admit it’s true, but somewhere inside them they all know what you are -- what I am -- and that’s why they leave you be.”
Darce ground his back teeth together. His fangs, folded up against the top of his mouth usually, rattlesnake-style, slid down and pricked his tongue as he clamped his jaw shut.
“Must be lonely.” Raven pushed his luck, shifting closer. “How long’s it been since you traded more than a handful of words with anyone else? How long have you been around, old man?”
Something cool and firm brushed the top of Darce’s thigh, tantalizingly close to his groin. He inhaled sharp and quick, and cursed it as a giveaway that Raven pounced on as sly and quick as a fox.
“If you want,” Raven said, thumbing half an inch away from Darce’s stiffening cock -- it had been a long, long time, whether he’d admit it out loud or not, “I’ll leave you be. All you have to do is say ‘go,’ and I’ll be out the door.”
“Like hell you would.”
“I think we’re gonna get along, you and me.” Raven stroked higher up and closer. “You know me already.”
“I know you’re trouble walking on two legs,” Darce said. He fought with the urge to rise into the teasing pressure. Damn, it’d been half of forever since someone, anyone, laid a hand on him not in anger or with an addict’s mindless craving. “I know I want you on your way as fast as you think you can run.”
“No, you don’t.” Raven’s palm molded over Darce’s cock, his touch firm and strong as any vampire’s, and for half a moment Darce burned with curiosity over what this kid’s story was, anyway. What’d shaped him this way? He forgot that in the next second when Raven moved fast in the way of their kind, faster than most, his lips brushing Darce’s ear, and said, “I could leave, or I could take you around back and suck your dick.” He pierced Darce’s earlobe with one of his fangs, slim and needle-sharp. “Your choice.”




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Imperative: Saving You by Belinda McBride

Imperative: Saving You
by Belinda McBride
Cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-149-7
Genre(s): Futuristic
Theme(s): Interracial, Ménage, Bisexual and More
Series: Imperative
Length: Novel




http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1065



Blurb:

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.

All he wanted was peace. Eternal peace.

After the death of his Imperative mate, Jason Anders threw himself into a lifestyle of sexual excess and self-punishment. Just when he thought he’d hit rock bottom, Jase was nearly killed in a brutal attack.

Nature listened to Jason’s plea for peace, and gave him what he asked for. But Nature’s version of peace wasn’t exactly what Jase expected.

When Dr. Dove Sinclair stumbled into his life, Jase began to suspect that within her arms, he might find the will to live. And when he looked into the haunting eyes of a mysterious masked man, Jason realized that Nature wasn’t finished screwing with his life.

Sometimes Nature doesn’t play fair. But at least she’s willing to give Jason a second chance.

Excerpt:

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

“Dr. Sinclair, are you familiar with our Assisted Suicide program?”
Dove shook her head. Her heart plummeted to her stomach. She didn’t think she wanted to know more.
“Primarily, it was designed for terminally ill patients with chronic pain or quality of life issues. It’s a means of giving an otherwise powerless individual some control over their own life and death.” Dove nodded. She knew that much about the program already. “We also have a small group of individuals with other issues. These are the clients we rarely allow into the program -- physically healthy persons with insurmountable problems.
“We are very careful not to approve clients who are depressed or grieving. They must undergo a waiting period and extensive counseling to ensure that they are not in a temporary cycle. Your client was widowed almost nine years ago. He applied to the program five years ago. He has completed his required waiting period. He still wishes to move forward.”
“Why?” She looked from one to the other. “He’s healthy, he isn’t mentally ill. Why is his quality of life so poor?”
“Dove, this man lost his Imperative mate.”
“Oh.” Dove looked at Dr. Drew and then down at her own hands. “My mother was devastated when my father died, but the Imperative gradually faded. She lives a good life now.” But when it had first happened, her mother’s grief had been fearsome, all consuming. Her children had been very afraid for her.
“Sometimes, in a very small percentage of the population, the Imperative doesn’t release the mate who’s been left behind. The survivor is trapped with their separation anxiety and grief. Plus there are extenuating circumstances. He feels responsible for her death.” He shifted uncomfortably. “They were sailing. His wife was midway through her pregnancy and went into early labor. She bled out and died before assistance arrived.”
The skin on her arms pebbled. She swallowed the sympathy that pulled tears to her eyes. To endure almost a decade of the grief that her mother had suffered for only months? Frankly, his wish to die was understandable. Years of that would destroy the will to live. She slipped off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, looking up at a blurry Dr. Patel. “What am I to do with him?”
Dr. Patel booted up the patient’s records and activated the screen in front of Dove. She quickly scanned the data, noting that the man’s name was missing. However, his story was familiar. Slowly, recognition began to crawl into her mind. She fought tears, blinking rapidly.
“He’s finished with life. However, I don’t think life is finished with him.”
“Dr. Patel, this man was one of my ER admits.”
The other woman sat back in her chair, looking speculatively at Dr. Sinclair. “And as an ER physician, what was your evaluation of his mental state?”
When a patient came to Dove in the ER, they were often stripped to the bare essentials. When life and death were involved, other priorities slipped away.
“If he’d been truly suicidal, he wouldn’t have fought off his attackers. When I asked if he would fight to stay alive, he said yes.” Actually, with the very last of his strength, he’d asked her to save him. That moment was still too raw, too personal to share.
“At that time, did you believe that he was suicidal?”
“No. Disturbed, certainly, given the extensive prior damage to his body, but not willing to die without a fight.”
Dr. Patel leaned forward and looked steadily into Dove’s eyes. “Dove. What I am about to say remains between us. This is confidential.”
She nodded in agreement.
“What is your priority as a doctor? When a patient comes to you in the ER, what is your primary goal?”
“To save the patient’s life.”
“And that is your goal with this client. Whatever it takes.”
“But he’s chosen to die. He’s been accepted to the program.”
“And we don’t want him to graduate from the program.” She sat back, never breaking eye contact with Dove. “Mr. Anders had no therapy or counseling following the death of his wife. He rejected crisis counseling after the attack that nearly killed him. This man hasn’t given himself a chance to heal. He’s refused to cooperate with the police investigating the case. He’s only agreed to counseling because it’s required for the program.”
Dove sat up straighter in her chair, her brain going to work on the problem. Mentoring a psych client was out of her area of expertise. But saving a life? That she could do. She watched as Dr. Patel transferred the man’s data to a mail file and sent it to Dove’s account.
“How long do I have until he completes the program?”
“Two months. He’ll be in counseling almost daily, plus workshops on end of life issues.”
Dove bit her lip, gathering all the knowledge she had of this man. She remembered all the gossip she’d heard about him, the conversations she’d eavesdropped on when he’d first been admitted to the hospital. Jase Anders was well known to a certain class of people. He was the pain slut. He would allow anyone to do anything to his body, in exchange for the punishment he craved. His story had almost broken her heart. Now she had some understanding of his motives. He blamed himself for the death of his Imperative mate. It all fell into place.
Person to person, she had no clue how to deal with his problems. But doctor to patient? Dove Sinclair was a doctor. She saved lives. She wouldn’t let Jase Anders go without a fight.



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Hot Flash! Cabin Fever by Alecia Monaco

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Blurb:

There’s trouble brewing in the preternatural community of mystical Snowfire, Alaska. The only way to stave off certain war is for the leaders of the weres, witches, and vampires to form a sexual triad. It’s up to one sexy daywalking vampire, a werewolf on the verge of shifting, and an ice wielding witch to get the job done. When these three hit the sheets, cabin fever is the last thing on their minds!

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Hot Flash! The Huntress by Kate Hill

The Huntress
by Kate Hill

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-570-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Hot Flash

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Blurb:

Magda, the powerful new werewolf queen, can handle just about anything, except witnessing the abuse suffered by her lover. Cassia has spent her life using her magical massages as well as her body to serve the greedy warlock who has enslaved her.
Returning from a solitary hunt, Magda meets her lover at the inn where she works, and after another night of passion is determined not to leave alone. This time she will do whatever it takes to free Cassia from Stephan, even if it means risking their lives.

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SPOTLIGHT: The Dark One by Angela Knight

SPOTLIGHT: The Dark One
by Angela Knight

Cover art by Angela Knight
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-015-3
Genre(s):
Length: Novella

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Blurb:

Matia of Ruza is one of the legendary Battlemaids -- a woman warrior who has taken an oath of celibacy in service of the Maid of Light. When Kaska of Artane saves her from an ambush by a gang of brigands, Matia finds her oath tested by her handsome rescuer’s erotic appeal. But Kaska means to do more than test Matia’s faith. He worships the Dark One, and he wants to make Matia the centerpiece in a sizzling erotic ritual in honor of his god.
But first, he’s got to defeat her in combat – and win her heart.

Publisher’s note: The Dark One was first released under the author’s penname of Victoria Michaels.
This title is also available in print!

Excerpt:

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

Chapter One

Kaska of Artane slowed his stallion to an easy amble. Prince Britar’s fortress lay a full day away, and he’d ridden poor Warbringer hard this past month. He knew the Prince awaited the intelligence he’d gathered as a spy in neighboring Trovan but laming his horse would serve no purpose.Particularly with war on the horizon. Besides, the last time Kaska had come this way, he’d had to battle the local brigands. Two fell to his blade before the rest fled, but that left five. And they might be in the mood for revenge. I don’t care to ride headlong into an ambush.“Whoreson bastards!” A woman’s roar of fury brought Kaska’s head up. He drew Warbringer to a prancing halt.Swords clashed, interspaced with male taunts and laughter. The laughter had a distinctly ugly note. The woman swore again, an edge of grim desperation in her voice.The thieves had found a new victim.Kaska set his heels to Warbringer’s flanks and thundered up the road toward the sound. Rounding the bend, he saw five men fighting a lone female traveler they’d managed to unhorse. He recognized the dented, rusted armor and unshaven faces; it was indeed the same band of thieves. But their victim was no common woman. Her armor and sword marked her as a follower of the Maid of Light -- a female warrior. She was tall for a woman, with a lithe, muscular build and pretty breasts barely contained by her intricately embossed breastplate. Long black hair swirled around her face as she spun and hacked at her tormentors with a slim sword designed for a woman’s hand. One of the brigands already lay dead at her feet, but four others remained, odds too great even for one of the legendary Battlemaids.A grin of sheer, savage joy spread across Kaska’s face. With a howl, he drew the blade sheathed across his back and kicked Warbringer into a thundering charge.The nearest of the brigands whirled too late. Kaska took his head with a single stroke.Another of the men jumped at him, hacking for his thigh with an axe, but Kaska spun Warbringer aside and thrust his blade into the thief’s chest. The man tumbled off the lethal point, gurgling out his life.Meanwhile, the third brigand fell to the Battlemaid’s sword. His head tumbled from his shoulders.The fourth man looked from Kaska to the thieves’ would-be victim, calculated the odds, and took to his heels.Kaska snatched a dagger from his thigh sheath and hurled it at the coward with an expert flip of his wrist. The man went down, the blade buried to the hilt between his shoulder blades.Scarcely breathing hard, Kaska turned to the maid. “Are you well?”“Well enough.” She studied him, her dark eyes level. There was a sharp and elegant beauty to her face, with its broad, high cheekbones and square little chin. Her lush mouth could inspire a monk to carnal fantasies. “My thanks, warrior,” she said at last in a low, husky voice, pushing the long black hair out of her face. “There were too many of them for me to best alone.” She considered him, appraising the width of his chest and the strength of his sword arm. Female appreciation lit her gaze, mixed with a warrior’s caution.She had reason for that caution, for he meant to challenge her himself. He worshiped the Dark One, and his god relished nothing as much as the moans of a defeated Battlemaid. Imagining the tight grip of her virgin ass, Kaska felt his cock swell behind his loincloth.Give her time to rest, and then…Of course, the maid might well kill him instead, but looking at her long legs and full, sweet breasts, Kaska thought it a chance well worth taking.But as he opened his mouth to warn her of his intent, all color left the Battlemaid’s face. Her eyes rolled up. Kaska threw himself from Warbringer’s back as she collapsed in a heap. Two long strides carried him to the maid’s side. Dropping to one knee on the dusty road, Kaska began an anxious examination. He found no wounds on the front of her body, so he rolled her onto her back.The maid groaned and lifted her head. “Wha -?”“Seems one of your cur attackers landed a blow after all,” he told her grimly. “There’s a stab wound in your back just under your backplate, over your left hip.”“Aye,” she said, letting her head fall. “One of them had a dagger.”“‘Tis not deep, but it bleeds still,” Kaska said. “I can treat it, if you permit.”“Aye,” the maid said, breathing now in shallow pants. “My thanks.”Kaska nodded and rose to retrieve his pack of battlefield medicines from Warbringer. Well, he thought as he walked to his horse, I won’t be challenging her any time soon. Not with that wound. Later, perhaps. When he’d examined her, he’d noticed she had a truly delicious ass. He wanted it.




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Down and Dirty 2: Calling the Bluff by Moira Rogers

Down & Dirty: Calling the Bluff
by Moira Rogers

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-076-6
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal
Theme(s): Werewolves
Series: Down & Dirty
Length: Novella

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Blurb:

Hazel Young is a rare commodity in town: a young, single female whose first mating is nearly upon her. She's spent the last two years fending off suitors who grow more determined by the day -- after all, there's nothing flattering in the attention of werewolves more interested in what she is than who she is, especially not when she gave her heart away to Oliver Russell years ago. But Oliver seems to feel nothing for her but fond kindness, and the time has come to choose a mate before the wolf makes the choice for her.
When Oliver happens across Hazel being pressured by a local who wants to be her first, it awakens protective instincts he thought he'd set aside with the death of his wife five years ago. With Hazel in heat and no time to get her to safety, they wind up in a fishing shack on Lonely River, waiting for her mating fever to pass. The last thing he expects is to be tempted by her inexperienced attempts at seduction.

Excerpt:

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

Hazel closed her eyes, propped her chin on her hand and, for the fifth time that day, told herself it was time to be a good girl and fuck Noah Hampton.
Even without looking she could feel his gaze on her, a heavy weight fraught with anticipation. He’d brought another courting gift to the Full Moon Saloon this afternoon, the third in as many days. Hazel glanced down at the cookbook resting on the bar and admired its cheerful shiny cover. Finding books which predated the War was a challenge, but she’d mentioned to him the first time she met him that she loved books and he’d obviously jumped through hoops to find a present she would value.
Few people out on the plains could afford the luxuries of pre-War books and gadgets. Hazel had vague memories of the cities back East, where rich people lived in the gigantic skyscrapers that had once housed businesses with technology she could only begin to imagine. People traded in odd relics of the past, but the price had always been too steep for her mother’s shallow pockets.
Noah Hampton was wealthy. He was strong and handsome enough, and he was new to town, which at least made him interesting. He knew when to talk and when to smile, and he’d made it clear from the moment he’d set foot across the threshold of Lottie’s saloon that he was more than willing to guide Hazel through her first mating cycle.
Unlike most of the local boys, who’d spent the last months trying to grab her ass or sneak a hand under her skirt as a prelude to seduction, Noah had been comfortingly blunt about the subject. He wanted to fuck her, to lock them both in a room and satisfy every dirty urge she had or would have over the several days it took for the mating fever to run its course, and when it was over they could decide what to do from there.
He was perfect. He was fucking perfect.
Except for the fact that she couldn’t summon the slightest interest in touching him. Damn you, Oliver Russell.
“If you stare at it long enough, will it spontaneously combust?” Lottie’s polite, cultured voice sounded particularly jovial, and she swept around the end of the bar in a billow of skirts and pale blonde hair. “It’s a very nice book, and it would be a shame.”
Hazel didn’t look up. “Is he still staring at me?”
“He is.” Lottie cleared her throat. “I can tell him to go, or coax him upstairs for a visit with one of the ladies.”
“No.” She brushed her fingers along the smooth cover and sighed. “Because the only person he needs to be fucking is me, and I’d rather not do it here.” The minute the words were out she regretted them. For the madam of the town’s most profitable whorehouse, Lottie had some fairly strict ideas about appropriate language.
“Hazel Young.” One eyebrow arched delicately as Lottie fixed her with a patient look. “There’s no need to be crude about it. Your situation is entirely normal and natural.”
“Is it?” If her situation were normal, she wouldn’t have ended up with so many people meddling in her life. Everyone else spoke of their first mating as if it had been a casual thing. Unimportant, unremarkable. No one had mentioned craving one man so desperately even her wolf would have nothing to do with anyone else.
“Mmm.” Lottie leaned over the bar, and her drawl became more noticeable as she spoke. “A word of warning, though. Any man that smooth?” She nodded toward Noah. “Is rarely a good idea.”
Which was the entire point. “At least a man that smooth might know what he’s doing. Unlike the boys you keep throwing at me.”
“‘Nice’ doesn’t always equal ‘inexperienced’.” Lottie’s gaze skipped past Hazel to the door, and she swore under her breath and straightened.
Hazel didn’t need Lottie’s sudden descent into foul language to know who had stepped into the saloon. It should have been impossible to pick out one scent amidst the jumble of smells that always permeated the saloon, but it wasn’t just any scent. Her skin tingled and arousal crept through her, persistent and demanding as she gave in and lifted her gaze to the door.
Oliver Russell stopped just inside the room, his hat cradled in his hands. Hazel let her gaze linger for a moment on the strong line of his jaw and his rugged features, on his powerful shoulders and hard chest and the large hands that she could almost feel on her skin…
His gaze swept the room and landed on her, hesitating for just a moment. Then he walked to the bar and nodded his head. “Miss Lottie. Miss Hazel.”
“Good afternoon, Oliver. What can I do for you?”
Again, that slight hesitation which might have been Hazel’s imagination, only this time it was coupled with something that looked like dismay. “Whiskey, please.”
Hazel was breathing too fast, and the men in the saloon were starting to take notice. She clamped down on the rising heat inside her until it almost hurt, then turned to find the whiskey. Even with her back to Oliver, she could feel his presence, and her hands trembled as she poured a shot and tried not to listen to his voice as Lottie talked to him.
When she turned around with his glass, Lottie took it from her. “Why don’t you go take a break, sweetie?”
Hazel glanced at Oliver, who looked nervous and self-conscious, and the truth of his visit came to her in a rush. The tiny, feeble hope that maybe -- maybe -- he’d come to see her faded.
Oliver was here for the reason he was always here -- to visit the saloon’s only human girl, a sweet woman who accommodated Oliver’s sexual needs. Maybe it would have been easier if Hazel had been able to hate Melinda, but she was kind and thoughtful, and even her wolf saw the human woman as no competition.
Pain gave her sexual arousal a vicious edge, and she met Oliver’s gaze without flinching. “Should I go fetch Melinda for you? I’m sure she’s available.”
He returned her stare evenly. “I’d appreciate it if you could tell her I’m here, and that I’ll be up in a bit, if that suits her.”
So casual. So cold. She’d demanded his blunt acknowledgement and he’d given it to her. Tears stung her eyes as she shoved past Lottie, but she didn’t go to the curving staircase leading to the second floor and the well-appointed rooms where the ladies of the bar entertained.
Instead she went to the corner. To Noah.
He greeted her with a smile and a bow. “Miss Hazel. Can you join me for a drink?”
Everyone was watching. Hazel pushed him back into the chair and followed him. She settled on his lap and curled an arm around his neck before leaning close to his ear. “I don’t think I can wait any longer, Noah. I’m choosing you.”
His smile turned into a cocky, self-assured grin. “And you won’t regret a minute of it, Hazel,” he whispered and bit her earlobe. “Not a single minute.”

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