Sunday, May 31, 2009

Sweet Oblivion 3: Fluid by Jordan Castillo Price

Sweet Oblivion 3: Fluid
by Jordan Castillo Price

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-59596-397-0
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, The Dark Side, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Sweet Oblivion
Length: Novella


It's been a couple of decades since Wild Bill has been able to savor the bite of an ice-cold, freshly tapped keg. Twenty-odd years since the shivery pucker of a cheap, boxed wine has assaulted his palate. But that doesn't mean Bill's forgotten how to party.
Wild Bill and Michael have holed up in a week-to-week hotel in an iffy Milwaukee neighborhood, and even though it's been a year or two, the fringe art happenings are just as edgy as Bill remembers.
There's a girl covered in frosting in the middle of the hors d’ouvres table, and she's begging them to dip. And the host of the party wants to lure them into the range of his mechanical eye. It's all fun and games, until a tryst turns deadly.


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The old loft had been a factory once upon a time. Maybe a place where six-year-olds earned two cents a day drilling holes in buttons. Or maybe a place where Bohunk women fresh off the boat stitched together brand new ready-made stuff for the generations who'd been here longer, middle-class matrons who spoke English.
It wasn't hard to imagine humanity teeming through the place. They wouldn't have been wearing PVC and fishnet back then, of course. But bodies is bodies.
Unless you count the body on the table. "What's that?" I asked her.
Her gaze met mine. "Cream cheese frosting."
What was she, twenty-five? If that. And splayed out on a table in nothing but a thin white coating of frosting, surrounded by sliced fruit. She'd bleached her buzz-cut to match the frosting -- that night, or maybe the night before, judging by the faint note of peroxide I detected over the warring scents of kiwi, pear, apple and grape. "Very creative. You're the artist?"
She shook her head. The cream cheese stopped at her collarbone, so she could do that much without disturbing the setup. "I'm modeling for Ivan."
Ivan. He was the flavor du jour, judging by the snips and snatches of conversation floating around every trendy watering hole on the south side of Milwaukee.
"What's your name?"
"Wild Bill."
"Suzanne. Listen, will you do me a favor? Dip something on me and eat it. Everyone's avoiding me like the plague. Maybe you could get it started."
Twenty-odd years ago, I woulda been all over her like stink on a wino. But even though I thought she was cute -- because, come on, how can a pixie-faced chick covered in frosting not be cute -- I felt like this wasn't my world anymore, and I had no business butting in.
"Please?" she begged me. "This was supposed to be fun."
What can I say? I felt sorry for the kid. It was ballsy of her to be pressing into service as a centerpiece for someone named Ivan. It had probably seemed like a great idea at the time, in a performance art sorta way. Who could've predicted how weird it would be to walk up to the hors d'oeuvres table and find a chick on it? I really did want to help her out. And while I couldn't eat -- not fruit, anyway -- I could at least dip.
I almost took an apple slice. My hand hovered over a fan of them. Twitched. But then I scented the pear, September-hard, and I took a wedge of that instead. "Anyplace in particular you want me to start?"
She blushed. Zing. The smell of it went straight to my nuts like an invisible, fondling hand.
"My arm, or, uh… my leg."
I'd been staring at her tits. No barrier whatsoever between her and the cream cheese. Oh my. I locked eyes with her again, gave her my most reassuring smile, fangs covered, and glanced at her wrist. A pair of handcuffs surrounded her skinny girl-arm, both cuffs on the same wrist.
"Don't ask. I've been on the lookout for someone with a master key. The locksmith wants a hundred bucks to pop it."
"Just act like it's a fashion statement, and no one'll be any the wiser." I judiciously ignored the hard, cold metal and the titillating story that undoubtedly went with it, and dragged the hard edge of the pear down Suzanne's thigh. The frosting parted. I imagine that's how it would've felt to press cuneiform letters into a clay tablet. The pear was a good choice. It made a beautiful line.
I drew a spiral first. Her thigh was firm as a boy's, and had just the right amount of give. I traced an accent line around it. The two lines, side by side, created a sort of negative space, a pinstripe of frosting. Another stroke. Even better.
I felt eyes on me, that prickle that's not quite hot or cold but maybe a little of both, and I glanced up and saw a dark-eyed kid with a mohawk and a pierced eyebrow giving me bedroom eyes. A year ago, I would've made good on that invitation -- 'cos he was sweet on the outside, but better than that, I could tell just by looking at him that he was bitter on the inside -- and that's the siren song that makes even the mustiest of dried-up vamps dash themselves to death on the rocky shore of wanting.
I'd paused mid-swoop, eye-locked with Pretty Boy for a split second, with that cream cheese-covered pear wedge clutched between thumb and forefinger.
Michael stepped between the vamp bait and me, and I felt like my soul, which had been trying to float out through my eyes, had slammed back into me, and I was myself again. I don't think he'd noticed the current of Mesmerism that he'd just short-circuited. "What are you doing?" Michael said, genuinely curious -- about the pear, not the mohawk boy. I finished out the whorl of the line I'd been drawing, and then turned to face him.
He had a red plastic cup of beer in one hand, full to the brim, and a handful of chips in the other. Everything else was black. Black leather jacket. Black T-shirt, black jeans. Filmy black scarf. Raven black Clairol hair. Thick black eyeliner. And tragically pretty, with insides all red and raw as if his best gal-pal had just been sucked dry yesterday. I brought the frosting-covered pear wedge up to his face and painted a thin line of white across his lower lip. "Dipping," I told him. And I slid the pear into his mouth. His tongue grazed my finger as he took it.
"That is so hot," Suzanne said.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Moonlight & Magic 2: Sunlight & Slavery by Mina Carter

Moonlight & Magic 2: Sunlight & Slavery
by Mina Carter

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-240-1
Genre(s): Paranormal, Dark Fantasy
Series: Moonlight & Magic
Length: Novella


Gargoyles guard things. That's a fact of life. Knuckles, head doorman of Moonlight & Magic, leads a simple life. People cause trouble, he talks to them. People continue to cause trouble and he proves how squishable most races are compared to a creature hewn out of stone. Knuckles doesn't do gentle.
That is, until he rescues Neri, a fragile human woman, quite literally from a fate worse than death. Can a gargoyle fall in love? Can a human woman make the leap of faith required to accept him for what he is?


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Saturday night had always been Neri and Jason's "date night." Some things didn't change. Their relationship was on the rocks, so far on the rocks it could only be described as a shipwreck. For Neri, at least, it had been over a while. She'd assumed they had a normal relationship, the sort where you could say, "I've had enough. I'm outta here." Except theirs wasn't a normal relationship. Here they were, out on the town on a Saturday night like normal, apart from one important distinction.
Neri didn't expect to make it to morning.
As though he could read her mind, Jason caught her eye from across the table and smiled. She suppressed a shudder and looked away. She'd tried to leave earlier but he'd stopped her. She looked up and to her right circumspectly. Neil, Jason's bulldog bodyguard, grinned down at her. This time she did shudder. She'd never liked the way Neil looked at her, as though he was undressing her in his head.
Neri reached for her drink with nerveless fingers, wrapping them about the glass and lifting it to her lips. Looking around the club she took a sip and tried to act as though nothing was wrong. That was the key. Jason was a stickler for appearances. If she played the game well enough she might be able to string things along, perhaps delay them long enough to find a way out.
There had to be a way out. Otherwise she'd end her life in a back alley somewhere with her body left in a Dumpster. The expression on her face didn't change as another thought occurred to her.
She slid a glance at Jason. He wouldn't. Would he? Neil had some… unhealthy appetites. He would. Without a doubt he would give her to Neil. The numbness she'd been feeling since Jason had thrown her, half naked, into the bedroom and told her to get dressed for the evening burned away under her fear. She had to get out of here. Now.
Replacing the glass on the table she shifted along the bench seat.
"Excuse me… Oh, for fuck's sake, do you have to ask him for permission to take a piss as well?" she snapped when Neil looked at Jason to check.
"Let her go." Jason's voice was just audible over the heavy music of the club. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Neri grabbed her purse and slid past Neil before he could change his mind.
She fled through the club on swift feet. Moonlight & Magic was the biggest of the "paranormal" clubs in town. Neri didn't know much about paranormals. Sure, she knew they'd come out of the "closet" a couple of years ago, but she'd never really thought much about it. So the monster under the bed was real? Big deal. Neri had always known monsters were real, but in her world they went by the term Homo sapiens.
Still, perhaps she'd get lucky and Jason would piss off something big and mean that would tear his head off. Yeah, like she'd get that lucky.
Skirting the edge of the packed dance floor she made her way to the ladies' room. There had to be an exit out back somewhere, a staff entrance or something. She just needed a five minute head start. Just five lousy minutes and she'd disappear so completely even her own mother wouldn't be able to find her.
Her lips quirked as she paused to make way for a busboy. Of course, that would depend on her knowing who her mother was. Not information a brat left on the hospital steps twenty-four years ago tended to have access to.
Neri Jacobs. Unwanted by her own mother, shunted from foster home to foster home, and now the soon-to-be-deceased girlfriend of a sleaze like Jason Carrick, small-time wannabe crime lord. Just her fucking luck.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Mate Marks: Hunger by Kate Hill

Mate Marks: Hunger
by Kate Hill

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-60521-130-5
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Interracial, Shapeshifters
Series: Mate Marks
Length: Novella


All her life Chante has wondered about two things, her family history and the cat-shaped birthmark on her breast. To avoid the frightening yet sexy man who has been following her, she travels to Jamaica to visit her great aunt and learns more than she ever wanted to know about a strange family curse.
Joshi has always known that he's destined to mate with the human female who bears the mark of the cat on her breast. Still, his bitterness toward humans has prevented him from claiming his rightful mate. With his species near extinction, he has no choice but to take Chante as his own.
Seducing this stubborn yet beautiful woman will challenge this shapeshifting cat in more ways than he realizes, especially when their lives depend on his prowess as a warrior.

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.

Joshi growled, muscles rippling as Clementine's clawed hands raked his back. Behind him, Clarissa purred and sank her fangs into his ass. His head snapped over his shoulder and he gave a sharp roar.
Clarissa backed away slightly, but glanced at him with a sultry look in her large green eyes.
Seeing that he'd been distracted by her sister, Clementine pawed his face and made a sound somewhere between a growl and a purr. He turned back to her and pawed her face in response, then thrust into her hot, wet body, making her writhe with desire.
This pair had kept him busy for most of the evening. Clarissa and Clementine were ultra-rare twin female Prowleryns -- beings gifted with the characteristics of both humans and great cats.
The entire species now dwindled. Males like Joshi vied for the attention of females whom they greatly outnumbered. He'd spent most of his life traveling all over the world in search of females of his kind, hoping to spread his seed and increase the Prowleryn chances of survival.
If he didn't succeed, he'd be forced into an act that sickened him. He would have no choice but to mate with a human female.
Beneath him, Clementine gasped and growled, her lips drawn back in pleasure, exposing her sharp little fangs. The American Prowleryns were smaller than the ones from his tribe, but what these females lacked in size they made up for in enthusiasm.
His cock ached and heart pounded with lust. Clementine came hard, her flesh pulsing around him. Joshi closed his eyes and lunged into her with several more hard thrusts. He exploded, filling her with his essence.
He scarcely had time to recover before Clarissa rubbed her face against his back, her hand kneading his ass. One of her claws slid between the indentation and tickled his sphincter.
Joshi roared again and rolled off of Clementine to grab her sister. His fingers bit into Clarissa's upper arms and his mouth covered hers in a rough kiss. She met him with equal ferocity. Her tongue thrust against his and she bit his upper lip hard enough to draw blood. The taste of it aroused him, making him hard again. Unlike human males, Prowleryns had amazing recuperative qualities, not to mention incredible staying power.
Only Prowleryn females could truly satisfy them, which was part of the reason Joshi disliked the idea of fucking a human woman. It would be such a bore, such a waste. Worst of all, his children would carry weak, human blood. That would not happen if he got one or both of these sisters pregnant.
Pressing Clarissa against a nearby boulder, he bent his knees and filled her cunt with a long, hard thrust. She cried out sharply, whether from pleasure or pain he wasn't sure. He felt no emotional attachment to these women, and they had made it clear they felt none to him. They'd agreed to fuck him for the sole purpose of procreation.
It had taken some heavy bargaining with their tribal leader to allow him to take these women. He'd brought gifts for both the leader and the women. Finally they had agreed that if he impregnated Clementine, the offspring would remain with this Colorado tribe. If his seed grew within Clarissa, she would return with him to his tribal territory and their child would be raised there.
Perhaps taking a human would be easier, as she would be his no matter what. Still, he would rather leave behind the child of a Prowleryn than be burdened with a human female for the rest of his life.
"Something wrong?" Clarissa purred, lightly running her claws over his shoulders. "You look distracted. Don't I please you, you gorgeous golden beast?" As if to draw his attention, she tightened her muscles around him, squeezing his stiff cock.
In reply he growled and raked his fangs along her shoulder, then grasped her wrists and pinned them on either side of her head as he pounded into her.
She moaned and arched against him. Her drenched pussy throbbed around him and his body stiffened as he came long and hard.
No sooner had he finished than he withdrew from her, leaving her panting against the rock.
Clementine, who had been watching them, stood a short distance away. Lust burned in her eyes as she stroked her breasts, her fingertips teasing her long, pink nipples.
"You're vigorous, even for one of our kind," Clementine said, her gaze sweeping him. "Let's see which one of us wears you out first."
"You mean why don't we see which one of you gives out first," he said, his voice husky as he reached for her again.
She opened her mouth for his kiss, but they were interrupted by the roars of several Prowleryn males.
Four cat men, covered in dark gold fur, appeared at the top of a rock pile. All were young and strong, the scent of their rage and arousal wafted on the air.
Joshi had no doubt what this was about. In spite of his arrangement with their leader, he was still infringing on their rights by claiming these females.
They climbed down the rocks and surrounded him.
"You have no business here," said the largest male, though even he wasn't as tall as Joshi.
"These are our females," said another. "Go back where you came from."
"My job is done here," Joshi said with a smug grin. This had the desired effect and the four males roared with fury.
He probably shouldn't be so arrogant, considering it was a four-to-one situation, but Joshi had never backed away from a challenge in his life.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Shadows in the City by Jonathan Wright

Shadows in the City
by Jonathan Wright

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-254-8
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Dark Fantasy, BDSM
Theme(s): Interracial, The Dark Side
Series: Joseph Horn
Length: Novella


Before -- Summer of 99...
"Watch out for the crazy bitch, Horn. She's lookin' for the darkness! Seen her prowlin' the alleys and the basements of them places down below Market, where they doin' the reno -- rebuildin', y'know..."
So naturally, Horn goes looking.
Horn's spent the past twenty-five years running, always one step ahead of a nightmare. He has no home, and he never sleeps. He roams the streets, always alert. He does not need emotional complications.
Jasmine Torneau, black and regal, with eyes that could swallow him whole, qualifies as a serious emotional complication. Horn wants to know what she's seeking down there amid the condemned buildings.
And then he just wants her. But finding her means facing his greatest fear. And following her into hell is just the beginning...


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.

At two in the morning in downtown San Diego, fog of suspicious origin rolled off the bay and across the rail yard next to the trolley station below Market until the place looked like the moors of Baskerville. Snoring derelicts lay scattered across the ground, barely visible. Cops would roust them before dawn. If there were any left.
From the shadows of a recently renovated warehouse that now housed a microbrewery and several boutiques Joe Horn watched a black girl waltz down Market toward the high rise condos that overlooked the bay. She passed the snoring drunks, oblivious to the sinister fog. Swishing through the pale, insubstantial sea, she crossed Third, her form intermittently illuminated by the flashing traffic signal, paralleling the open rail yard.
With eyes a cat would envy Horn admired her buxom form, nicely displayed in tight dark slacks and a sheer white blouse through which he discerned heavy breasts with fat nipples, even at this distance in the middle of the night. Her close cropped head looked regally Nubian, in keeping with her slender waist and long, trim legs.
He shadowed her as she cut across an open dirt lot by the trolley line. Across the tracks stood an old four-story office building waiting for the wrecking ball, looking like a hoary sentinel full of black holes and stillness.
Bad choice for a shortcut, he thought, noting the distance to the nearest streetlight and the deeper shadows in the lee of the building. Not that it mattered.
He did nothing to disguise his presence about fifty feet back. She flicked him a glance. He sensed rather than saw the fear in her eyes.
Sorry, sweetheart. Wrong bad guy.
As he had expected, a shadow detached itself from a deeper shadow at the edge of the building.
She didn't look in Horn's direction as she quickened her pace, but he knew she had to be focused on him by the way she held her body, tense and ready to flee -- where? Her hand moved to her purse, where he assumed she had a can of mace.
The shadow, clad in a long coat, flicked across the lot behind her, leaving whorls of smoky fog in its wake, and reached her almost before Horn could react.
The girl screamed as dark limbs encircled her torso and neck. Three or four or five dark limbs that each ended in writhing, boneless appendages.
Horn's knife sliced three of the tentacles in half a second. As he sidestepped behind the girl the featureless face of her attacker split vertically, flashing multiple rows of wet teeth. He drove six inches of sharp steel into the maw, dragging sideways.
Black blood spurted from the ragged remains and the being released the girl and reeled away. Horn started after it, then reversed direction in an instant as three more shadowy figures appeared in the increasingly dense fog.
He turned and ran, grabbing the girl's arm and dragging her stumbling after him.
She shrieked and dragged her feet.
"They'll kill you!" he snapped. "Run!"
She glanced back and saw the oncoming attackers then glanced at Horn, who hesitated. Apparently deciding that he looked less lethal and perhaps a spot more human, she nodded once.
They took off. The fog, dense and palpable, had risen above them. Horn could see next to nothing. Running across Market, eerily empty and silent under the faint glow of the almost invisible streetlights, he heard the sloppy, slapping sounds of inhuman appendages following and prayed nothing lurked ahead.
The girl stumbled in her three-inch spikes. She staggered and almost fell as she kicked them off, then hissed in pain as she ran barefoot on the rough concrete sidewalk. But she picked up speed and in seconds the fog lessened as they left their pursuers far behind.
Horn realized he still had her arm in a steel grip and released her. She staggered over to a building and slapped her hands against the wall, hanging her head and gasping hoarsely. Sweat and dampness from the fog plastered the blouse to her impressive curves, giving Horn an eyeful if he cared to notice, which he did. He heard movement back the way they had come and instinctively moved closer to the girl.
She had managed to hang on to her purse and suddenly stepped back and whipped out a can of mace. "Back off!"
He raised one quizzical eyebrow.
"I know this scam! Get me all grateful and cooing over what a man you are and take me home and screw my lights out and then your friends come in and get everything I own and me in the bargain --"
Her face evidenced concentrated fear but her hand remained steady. Mace hurt a lot so Horn kept his distance. Over her head he saw that the fog had lifted. Miraculously, almost. He relaxed and shrugged. "I guess you didn't see the 'guys' who attacked you."
She relaxed a little, too, seeing him back off, then took an obvious second to appraise his appearance.
Worn Army surplus field jacket hanging on a pretty good set of shoulders. Hard planed face looking brooding and thoughtful, or at least he hoped so.
"Get lost, Lothario."
He backed up twenty feet, still watching her, mainly to make sure something slimy didn't drop out of the sky. Then he turned and walked away, uphill toward Broadway.
He glanced back and saw her walking back toward Market, presumably to get her shoes. Not smart, and she didn't look dumb. She ought to run down to the all night burger joint a block away, call a girlfriend to come get her.
He stopped and thought about it, decided he should risk a face full of hell, and trotted back after her. Then he heard her screams, and this time it didn't sound like a girl being mugged who was mad and scared and if she got out that can of mace it was going to be emptied into someone's face.
This time it sounded like she had seen the Truth.

Open Doors by Leona Grey

Open Doors
by Leona Grey

Cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-192-3
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem
Length: Novella


Maura has a way of ignoring the open doors in her life, like the door to the spirit world in her guest room and the opportunity to be with Jared. But he plans to change all that. As a mystic, he recognizes what is in her house and is determined to take care of it, with hopes of winning her heart in the process.
But the person who opened the portal has other plans.


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.

Jared studied the portal in Maura Sanderson's spare room. Most portals to the spirit world were protected so that only good energies, or ones that were invited, could enter. This portal had no such restrictions. So anything could come into Maura's home without her knowledge. If the entity was smart, the changes would be gradual. Maura would slowly slip into depression. Close friends might notice, but she would seem like the millions of other Americans fighting their inner demons. Except Maura's demon would have its own consciousness. If she started antidepressants, they would cloud her mind and give the spirit/entity/demon -- whatever it might be -- more of a hold on her. Maura had no protections. She would be an easy target.
* * *
Maura just wanted to take off her shoes and put on her comfy clothes. Managing one of the nicer restaurants in town was a good job but a lot of work. It made her really appreciate going home, getting comfortable, and not having to deal with anything or anyone. It was impossible to avoid all human contact right now. Her kitchen was being remodeled, but the contractors didn't usually bother her unless they had a question. Which was why she was really surprised to see her handyman, Jared, in the spare bedroom. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Your room just caught my attention."
She looked around the rather generic room with its nearly bare eggshell-colored walls. She'd been meaning to spruce it up for a while, but it kept slipping her mind. "This room caught your attention."
In its current state it was probably the least inviting room in the house. Or maybe it was just her. She had never really liked this room. It made her uneasy. In all honesty, she was a little ashamed of the guest room. She wondered if the fact that she hadn't done anything with it meant she was an unwelcoming person. Especially since she had taken great pains to make sure the rest of her home reflected her personality, elegant with an edge. At least, she liked to think of herself that way.
"Oh, yeah. I have a cabinet that I made that would fit just right in that odd-shaped space over there. If you want, I can bring it by sometime and let you look at it."
"Sure, why not?"
He smiled. "Great. Thanks, Maura. And thanks for letting my cousin work with me on this. He really is a good guy."
"I trust you, Jared. Are you guys almost done?"
"Yes, ma'am. We'll be out in a few minutes."
"Okay, see you Monday." Maura wasn't trying to get rid of him, really. She just had plans with a girlfriend this evening. Netta wanted to have another "let's bash men because my boyfriend's a jerk" night. How could Maura refuse? Though some days she would much rather spend an evening with the handsome and handy Jared.
"'Night, Maura," Jared called. The door shut quietly, as usual. That was something she had always noticed about him. He was a big man, but careful. Of course, it wasn't the first thing she noticed about him. That was his smile. He had a serious face with a closely trimmed beard that gave him an almost stern appearance, but when he smiled it was so… real. It completely changed the look of him. It made her think there was more to him than people knew.
Maybe after the remodels in her kitchen were done, she could find the nerve to ask him out. If she did it before then, whether he said yes or no, she would have to see him every day, and that would be uncomfortable.
She had just gotten into her oldest T-shirt and a pair of ratty cutoffs when there was a knock at the door. "The pasta was great," she called to Netta through the door, but when she pulled it open, Jared was on the other side.
He raised his eyebrows at her state of dress. Or undress -- the cutoffs were pretty short. "Sorry. I don't mean to disturb you but I think I left my work calendar in your spare room. I can't go a day without it, I'm so forgetful. Do you mind?"
"No, go ahead and look for it."
"Thanks, I'll hurry."
He left soon after, waving the calendar at her as he went past. As often happened, she was struck by the urge to figure him out. It might have been genuine curiosity or just plain old attraction but it always tugged at her mind. He was obviously handsome and a good person, but she knew lots of nice handsome men. She didn't feel the need to get into their minds. With a small shake of her head she let it go and played the message on her answering machine. It was from her father.
"Hey, baby girl. Just checking in, wanted to see how work is going and all that. Well, I guess I'll catch you later, then. Bye."
Dad was good about checking in on her. He knew Mom didn't call except to complain about how bad her life was, how lonely she was, how little money she had. That always got on Maura's nerves. Her mother didn't work yet she was living almost as well as Maura, who had a well-paying full-time job. She kept those thoughts to herself, though. Comments like that would just bring on an argument and hurt feelings.
She made a note by the phone to call her father back and proceeded to raid the fridge for snacks her friend would like. Netta, the gourmet cook and food connoisseur, arrived before long with a bottle of wine and a bag of potato chips.
"You have such good taste, my friend," laughed Maura. She was glad to see her friend eating, even if it was potato chips. Netta was a small woman with a tendency to lose weight when she got stressed, which was fairly often. She already had a permanent line between her eyebrows. Her short, straight, light brown hair was usually tucked behind her ears, out of the way. Many people were careful about approaching her because she always seemed angry. In reality, she was a very funny person, just a little too high-strung.
"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it," Netta said as she filled two glasses.
"Easy, that's enough. Let's not drink so much tonight, okay?"
"Oh, come on. It's one night a week when we get to unwind. Don't make me drink by myself. Please." Netta did the puppy dog face.
"Fine. I'll drink with you, but I don't want to get drunk."
"That's fine. Let's go see if there are any cute guys on TV, preferably not wearing shirts. I think we can manage that, don't you? Oh, hey, those are great." She pointed to the new cabinet doors in Maura's kitchen. "I didn't know you were redoing your kitchen." The plain white doors were being replaced by more ornate ones sporting the wood's natural warm tones. Also, the section of counter right next to the stove was becoming a large cutting board.
"I told you about it last weekend."
Netta waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, you know I don't pay attention to things like that, but these are beautiful."
"Aren't they? Jared does great work."
Netta gave her a wicked look. "Ooh, Mr. Big and Stern Jared with the nice ass? I may need some work done in my kitchen." Netta laughed at herself and took a sip of wine. "I am such a slut sometimes."
Maura just shook her head. "He's going to bring over this cabinet he made that he thinks would look good in the spare room. I'm excited to see it. Remember when we drove by his house and I showed you the chainsaw carvings in his front yard?"
"Oh, yeah. Nice ass and good with his hands. My, my…" Netta smiled and shook her head then grabbed the bag of chips and headed to the living room. "Come on; let's see what's on TV."
Maura was used to her friend's abrupt subject changes. So she just went along with her. As usual, they spent the night drinking and laughing while Netta made snide comments about Sam, her boyfriend. Somehow, Maura managed to pass out, also like usual, even though she didn't remember having that much to drink.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Bound in Lust Collection by Dawn Montgomery

Bound in Lust (Collection)
by Dawn Montgomery

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-183-1
Genre(s): Paranormal, Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Interracial, BBW
Length: Collection


One bite by a rogue demon has left Elena in the throes of a dark curse. It will take all Drake's power to halt the change and save her life. In the depths of their dark lust she becomes something other, a bond mate to a demon of lust. Will it be worth the cost?
In the shadows a deadly adversary begins moving the pieces, creating a trap that will bring Drake and Elena into the darkest reaches of their hearts. Neither expects the depth of hatred from the Brotherhood or the lengths to which they will go to destroy one demon. Drake, it seems, has old enemies and they're willing to overthrow Hell itself to destroy him.

Publisher's Note: This collection contains three previous published novellas Bound in Lust, Bound in Fury, and Bound Eternally.


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.
They won’t kill me. I know too much. Those thoughts did little to ease her fears, but she knew it wouldn’t matter anyway. Show or die. Easy decision, really.
The throb and pulse of Abandon’s dance floor beat a counter rhythm to Elena’s thudding heart. She skirted the fringes of the crowd, trying to weave through the bodies without attracting too much attention. Drawing deep on her reserves and adding energy to reinforce her inner shields, she avoided the lustful onslaught of hormones. Even with the skintight pantsuit she was wearing, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. Most of the dancers wore far less. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Why the hell did I wear my hair down?
Within moments a hand grasped her elbow. She glanced up and gasped at the gorgeous specimen who’d touched her. Eyes dark as onyx reflected the changing flashes of light throughout the club. Thick eyelashes framed them in perfect symmetry, making her fingers itch to sketch them. Sharp cheekbones were accented by shadows, reminding her of a Greek statue. The dark silk of his hair was held in place by a leather thong. Like always.
“Angels don’t usually grace me with their presence. To what do I owe this honor?” The deeply masculine voice rumbled across her skin like a caress.
Waves of lust stroked her, teased her nipples to aching tips thrusting against the black denim. She shivered against the heavy power in his touch. Demon power. The raw sensual heat of a demon of lust.
“I’m no angel.” Her throat was husky with suppressed longing. Desperately, she concentrated on rebuilding the shambles of her empathy shield.
His full sensual lips lifted in a half smile. He brought her hand to those fascinating lips and brushed them against her open palm. Little shots of electricity shot from her hand to her core, stroking her pussy from within. She bit back a moan at his tender ministration. Control. She had to maintain control. His hungry gaze sizzled her from head to toe. He had a way of making her very aware of every single curve.
She cleared her throat. “You have something I need.”
“I appreciate your candor, Elena. Would you like to retire to my office?” He gestured toward the upper balcony.
She nodded, not trusting her voice to form further coherent words. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this was life and death, but her libido, at the moment, was in heaven. Don’t forget why you’re here, Elena. There are worse things than death. She flinched in memory of the cloaked man’s words.
She pulled her hand from his with an apologetic smile. “Please, after you.” She gestured and did her best to keep from rubbing her hand against her thigh. It still tingled where his lips had touched her.
He led her to his executive elevator. Two men, more like tree trunks with arms, blocked the path of any others who would dare enter. From their lack of expressions to the tangy flavor of their cologne, she couldn’t tell them apart. At 5'6" she only came to their shoulders, but even at close range they exuded no emotion.
They stepped into the elevator and she couldn’t help but comment. “It’s rare to see twins working as bouncers.”
The demon smiled and his eyes glowed. “They owed me a debt.”
Elena swallowed and tore her gaze away from his disturbing presence. “Debts are serious things.”
Within the confines of the box, the rich scent of his body surrounded her, infiltrated her senses, and teased her with a promise.
“Yes, they are.” His voice rumbled with amusement. Drake’s heavy gaze was unnerving. “You should wear your hair down more often, Elena. The chestnut color is striking.”
Heat flushed her cheeks at the compliment. To her immense relief, the elevator chimed their arrival.
He gestured and she left the elevator. Her heels sank into the plush carpet -- blood red and a perfect match to her demon host. She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. An elegant profile and lost in thought. For just a moment she wondered what he was thinking.
His obsidian eyes flicked to meet her gaze. For several long seconds she held her breath at the intense sexual longing she felt from him. Her pussy clenched in desperate urgency, slicking her panties with her need. Empathy’s curse.
She needed a distraction. Ornate doors drew her interest. Wrought iron edging with wooden carvings in the panels. She reached the doors and stared. Women and men writhed in sexual abandon. Each tiny body an embodiment of lust. She fisted her hands to keep from tracing a particularly intricate one. Is that even physically possible?
“I assure you it is,” he whispered in her ear.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Dance Wars: Last Night Stand by Sophia Titheniel

Dance Wars 4: Last Night Stand
by Sophia Titheniel

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-151-0
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Dance Wars
Length: Novella

It’s been a year since Lachlan first set foot in the Chlodwig -- and set his eyes on Adair. What started as a down and dirty one-night stand has grown into something more, but what they have can’t last forever -- not when their lives are so diametrically opposed. Knowing Adair won’t listen to any reasoning of his, and he’s not ready to take that step that will take him away from his life as scavenger and dance warrior, Lachlan decides it’s time to take action.
It’s a win all, lose all bet when Lachlan walks in the Chlodwig with a crew of his own, challenging Adair in a dance fight that will either cost him his lover, or win him forever...


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.

Lachlan wakes up first. The light filters through the half closed blinds, and he blinks, stretching lazily, like a cat. Adair’s lying on his back, still naked, the sheet barely hanging in there, covering his lower body. Lachlan pushes himself up on his elbows, looking down at Adair with a half-formed smile.
Adair’s dark hair is messy and damp with sweat. Lachlan strokes it back off his face, lingering on the prickle of stubble along his jaw line. He wishes it were so easy. He looks up at the flickering lights and sighs, placing a quiet kiss over the curve of Adair’s hair before trying to stand up.
His back gives Lachlan a very strong signal that once again, riding the bike is going to be a motherfucking bitch for the rest of the week, but instead of cursing a blue streak as he would usually do, he brings his fingers around, feeling the burn of Adair’s presence between his butt cheeks.
Christ, he can feel himself hardening already. Every time he has to leave, it feels like he’s ripping something out of his chest. He pulls his fingers out and whimpers softly at the loss. He has to get going; he can’t linger. He stands and wobbles to his jeans, but before he can slide them on, strong, firm hands wrap around his hips, and he’s pulled back against a solid, sculpted body.
“Not even a goodbye kiss?” Adair whispers roughly in his ear.
Lachlan grins. “Goodbye kisses turn mostly into goodbye fucks,” he murmurs, pushing back against him, relishing in the closeness.
“Never heard you complain before.”
Lachlan shakes his head lightly, his smile lazy. “You’re pretty decent, I’ll give you that.”
Adair’s growl is playful, but he still bites down on the curve of Lachlan’s shoulder, whipping him around and pushing him up against the small chest of drawers Lachlan tossed his clothes over in his frenzy.
“What about -- ah,” Lachlan moans, immediately spreading his legs wide open to accommodate Adair between them. “What about security and…”
Whatever else Lachlan might have wanted to say is lost in a moan. Adair grabs his hips and pulls him close, grinding their groins together. Adair chuckles and sucks on Lachlan’s neck. There’s nothing that gets Lachlan hot faster than Adair’s mouth on his neck, his teeth sinking deep into the tissue of Lachlan’s skin. Lachlan groans and jerks forward, his cock now fully erect and rubbing deliciously against the groove of Adair’s hip.
Adair’s mouth travels from Lachlan’s neck down to his chest. Lachlan wraps his legs around Adair’s back, yanking him closer. “Come on!” Lachlan fists his hands in Adair’s hair. Their mouths mash together as Lachlan ruts up against him, already lost in his blatant need.
“Fuck, what is it that you do to me?” Adair groans, nudging at Lachlan’s chin.
Lachlan grins, shaky, his fingernails sinking into the muscles of Adair’s shoulder as he leans back, his ass jutting out on the edge of the drawers, rubbing teasingly over the plum-shaped head of Adair’s dick. “Pretty much what you do to me,” he whispers, his body shaking with a shiver when Adair’s dick slides between his butt cheeks.
Adair grunts and moves one hand up Lachlan’s thigh, finding his hole and thrusting one finger up to the knuckle. Lachlan is still open and raw from the night before, and he whimpers, his forehead falling against Adair’s shoulder as he wills his body to relax.
Adair mouths his way down to Lachlan’s chest, sucking one nipple as he moves his finger in and out of Lachlan’s body, each thrust earning a whimper from Lachlan’s bitten-red lips.
Lachlan groans and clutches at Adair’s biceps, his eyes squeezed shut. The pain prickles down his spine, adding to the edge of his arousal. Lachlan’s cock is hard and curved against his belly, pressed between his and Adair’s abs, pre-come making the friction hotter, sweeter.
“Can I?” Adair murmurs, his voice low, adding another finger to the knuckle.
Lachlan’s heart skips a beat. Adair rarely, if ever, asks anything of the sort. It’s like a dollop of warm honey dropping onto his tongue. He nods, shakily, but doesn’t say a word. His voice would betray the butterflies flying wild in his stomach.
Adair pulls back, laying a kiss on Lachlan’s lips before pulling his fingers out, arranging Lachlan’s legs over his shoulders as he lines himself up.
Lachlan forces his eyes open and stares into Adair’s face, feeling himself float as a rush of sensation hits him, as if he’s on a rollercoaster. He tries to keep staring but as Adair’s huge dick sinks into him, his eyes roll back and he lets out a long, guttural groan, head thumping against Adair’s forehead as he pants, harsh, ragged breaths blowing against Adair’s lips.
“So hot,” Adair groans, nibbling on Lachlan’s lower lip as he grabs his hips, pulling him into his thrust. “Gorgeous. Mine.”
Lachlan keens, grabbing a handful of Adair’s hair. “More, Adair, please. Please.”
Adair nods, shushing Lachlan with a powerful kiss, their teeth clashing together with muffled groans. He pulls out completely, then slams back in, the chest of drawers rattling noisily against the wall as the force of Adair’s thrust sends Lachlan reeling. Lachlan’s feet dangle helplessly against Adair’s back, his moans growing louder and louder as Adair picks up the pace, each thrust harder and faster than the one before.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Adair chants, gripping Lachlan as he guides him down on his dick with each roll of his hips. Lachlan whimpers, clinging to Adair’s back, arching into his touch as Adair hoists Lachlan’s legs further up his shoulders, spreading him wider and hitting Lachlan’s prostate.
Lachlan cries out sharply, his whole body seizing, hot tingles curling up at the base of his spine and spreading through his body with every forceful push. He tries to rock back on Adair’s dick, but he nearly falls off the chest of drawers, his ankles crossing at the back of Adair’s neck for support, hands gripping tight, slippery with sweat, as he tries to keep his balance.
The sharp movement has Adair sinking in even deeper, his balls slapping against the back of Lachlan’s ass, breathy moans the only added sound in the tiny room as Adair’s hips snap in a staccato rhythm. “Adair,” Lachlan groans, his mouth open in a silent O. “Adair -- ah -- ah --”
Lachlan’s whole body tightens painfully as his orgasm rushes through him, robbing him of breath. Everything whitens, pleasure sizzling through his veins as Adair keeps ramming into him, every thrust matched by the continuous thump, thump, thump of the chest of drawers against the wall.
“Come on,” Lachlan moans, yanking Adair’s face up to pant against his mouth, their tongues meeting halfway. “Come -- on -- Adair --”
With a grunt, Adair pulls Lachlan bodily off the chest and impales him on his dick, making both of them cry out at the sensation. Adair comes, shooting messy and hot in Lachlan’s ass, holding him up as they both shake with release.
Lachlan whimpers and clings to Adair, his body shaking with the aftershocks. Adair holds him up, his were strength helping him to keep balance.
They stumble backwards onto the bed, Adair hitting the mattress first, Lachlan falling on top of him with an ooomphf. Adair smiles -- Lachlan can feel it underneath his cheek. He lifts his head a few inches, feeling boneless and sated, and pushes back Adair’s sweaty hair. “I don’t think I can ride anywhere now.”
Adair snorts, his hands trailing down Lachlan’s back, over the rounded curve of his ass. “Guess you can’t.”
“Sneaky motherfucker,” Lachlan grins, sitting up far enough to kiss him. It’s slow and quiet, at complete odds with the intense orgasm they just shared. Adair pulls out and hoists Lachlan higher on his chest.
Lachlan’s smile fades as Adair’s eyes slowly flutter closed. This is going to kill him at some point, either because he misses Adair so much he does something stupid, or because the scavengers catch him. Lachlan sighs and closes his eyes, resting his head on Adair’s chest, his heartbeat lulling him to sleep. He needs to do something, and do it soon.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Spaceport: Come Together by Mary Winter

Spaceport: Come Together
by Mary Winter

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-217-3
Genre(s): Futuristic, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Ménage, Bisexual and More, Spaceport
Series: Spaceport Multi-Author
Length: Novella


With the worst of his rehabilitation behind him, TriZ star Tomak, along with his lovers Zaiden and Ioanne, have some hard decisions to make. In bed, their chemistry is perfect. Out of it, Tomak's tired of being treated like an invalid. Zaiden struggles to resist the lure of the TriZ league, and Ioanne knows that in order to keep her lovers exactly where they belong -- with her -- teaching them to come together may be the only chance they have.


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 weight clanked back into place. Tomak Trucco wiped beads of sweat from his brow, his spiky hair damp. He looked up into the face of his lover, Zaiden Riccie. Zaiden’s dark brown curls fell over his forehead and concern filled his brown eyes. Tomak frowned.
“You okay?” Zaiden asked. He handed Tomak a white towel.
Tomak mopped his forehead, battling down the frustration raging inside him. “I’m fine. I’m not an invalid.” He ignored the pains in his thighs, muscles worked to exhaustion on the leg press machine. Just a few months ago, he’d pressed at least fifty pounds more. Damn Styng addiction. Getting through withdrawal had left him weak, and with a hovering lover.
“You sure.” Zaiden leaned against the machine, eyeing the door. “We could head back --”
“I said I’m fine,” Tomak ground past clenched teeth. He rose, hating the slight bobble in his step as he moved to the free weights. He grabbed two twenty-pound weights from the rack, ignoring Zaiden’s look of concern. Lying down, he started to work his chest muscles.
“You don’t look fine.” Zaiden sat on the ab bench next to him and offered a bottle of water. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”
The weights clanked to the ground. The sound echoed in the empty gym. Tomak sat up so fast his head spun. “Will you leave me the hell alone?” he bellowed. “I’m trying to get back up to strength here.” Only a week ago he’d been curled into the fetal position, sweating and yelling his way through the last of the detox process. Styng bit hard and kept on biting well after the last hit. “I can do this. I don’t need you hovering around, offering me a towel or a water bottle like a fucking first year recruit.”
Zaiden recoiled from the words. “I just…” He sighed and stared at the bottle he held. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Tomak barked mocking laughter. “Hurt myself? Like dosing myself with illegal performance enhancing drugs wasn’t hurting myself?” He sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. Truth was, he needed Zaiden. Right now his lovers, Zaiden and Ioanne, were the only people keeping him sane. If he hadn’t had them… he refused to think about what would have happened if he’d been in some sort of clinic and left to his own devices.
I probably wouldn’t have detoxed at all. Deke’s ultimatum be damned.
Zaiden stared at him like a hurt puppy dog. He stood and shrugged his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll go. But if you get sick again and have to clean up your own puke, or better yet lay in it, just remember you’re the one who sent me away.”
Tomak reached for Zaiden, cursing his shaking hand. His stomach rolled traitorously at the mention of getting sick. “Shit. Don’t go.” He cupped his face in his hands and sighed, willing the nausea to subside. “I just…” He balled his hands into fists and pounded them on the bench. “Do you know how frustrating this is? I used to work with weights twice, even three times these. I get winded running for twenty minutes. That’s barely a single quarter in a game. I haven’t been in a zero-G room for weeks. And I bet when I do get back there, I’ll flop around like a first year recruit.”
Zaiden rested his hand on Tomak’s shoulder. “Do you know what it’s like for Ioanne and I to watch you? I want to pick up those weights for you so bad. I can’t. You have to do this yourself, and all I can do is be here for you, because it’s what I can do.” He set the bottle on the bench. “Drink.”
With a sigh, Tomak uncapped the bottle and took a long drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thank you. I’m being an ass. You should have walked out half an hour ago.”
“I should have, but if you’re an ass then I’m a stubborn ass, because I’m not leaving.” He pressed a quick kiss to Tomak’s sweaty cheek. “Why don’t you give me three reps of fifteen with those and we’ll call it a day?”
Tomak picked up the weights, then lay back down. He started the first rep, noticing Zaiden hovering nearby. He wished for privacy he wouldn’t receive. His arms shook. His muscles ached with exertion. Last season he’d been the league MVP -- now he wouldn’t even make the cut at rookie try-outs. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
He grunted his way through the first fifteen, taking only a very short break before the next. Deke had called again last night. His old manager was still hounding him for a chance to return to the team. Apparently each ultimatum of “last time I’ll ever talk to you” faded away with each losing game. He couldn’t play TriZ the way he was now. A combination between Earth basketball and volleyball in zero gravity, with four teams on the field at any given time, TriZ demanded the utmost physical and mental stamina. Players frequently received injuries, some of them life threatening. The fast pace and rough playing style entertained fans. On the field, he’d be pitied at best and seriously wounded at worst.
The last rep threatened to kill him. His pectoral muscles pulled, tiny sparks where neurons fired haphazardly. Braced against the floor, his legs wobbled. Sweat poured from him.
Zaiden remained silent.
Tomak dropped the weights to the floor next to the bench and closed his eyes, sucking in great gulps of air. The doors to the workout area swooshed open, announcing the arrival of someone else. “Let’s get out of here,” he croaked, half-afraid he wouldn’t have the energy to get back to Ioanne’s living quarters. He should have taken her up on the offer to bring workout equipment into the meditation area, but no, he had to be stubborn and insist on walking to the gym. Too late now to change that decision, though Ioanne probably would still gladly make the changes.
He sat, waiting a moment before standing. While he’d been recovering, Zaiden had put the weights away. Together, the two men walked, though Tomak shuffled, from the workout area. And although Tomak didn’t lean on Zaiden, he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to.
Zaiden stayed just long enough to make sure Tomak wouldn’t drown himself in the shower, then left, saying he had business.
Tomak stepped into the meditation room and stared at the pillows and cushions on the floor. Ioanne sat nude in a meditative pose. In spite of the punishment he’d given himself in the gym, seeing her renewed his energy. His cock hardened. His breath quickened, and thinking about her strong, slender fingers all over his body propelled him forward. He knelt by the cushions.
“Ready for me?” Tomak picked up a blue bottle and removed the stopper. He sniffed the oil, redolent with the scent of dark woods and spices. “Very nice.”
“Thank you.” Ioanne opened her eyes and stretched her arms above her head. The motion lifted her breasts, her hard nipples pointing right at him. “Why don’t you get comfortable? You’re probably sore after your workout.”
“Sore doesn’t begin to describe it.” Tomak settled himself with a sigh, determined to put Zaiden’s hovering behavior out of his mind, at least for a moment. His lover meant well. The caring nature that made him an excellent physical therapist translated into their relationship. Tomak could no more fault Zaiden than he could himself. Zaiden wouldn’t act like this if I hadn’t gotten hooked on Styng.
Ioanne knelt beside the cushions, sitting on her feet. She picked up the bottle and poured some of the massage oil into her palm. “This has herbs and oils in it to soothe your muscles.” She flattened her palms on his shoulders and stroked the length of his back.
“Mmm. That feels heavenly.” Tomak closed his eyes. He sighed, relaxing his muscles with each long, sweeping stroke of Ioanne’s hands. Beneath her ministrations, his worry about Zaiden faded. With time, Tomak knew he’d grow stronger, and hopefully within that same time Zaiden would relax. At least, Tomak hoped.
“Relax,” Ioanne said. “Your muscles are like rocks.”
A witty comeback tumbled to his lips, held back by the truth in Ioanne’s words. Sure, some parts of his body were supposed to be hard, and they were. His shoulder and neck muscles, however, needed to loosen up.
“It’s Zaiden, isn’t it?” Ioanne continued as if Tomak had spoken. “I know. Trust me, I know how he can be. Give him time. Let him see that you’re coming back.” She kneaded the taut globes of his buttocks before straddling him to work on his shoulders.
Her supple thighs framed his hips, her pussy pressed against his lower back. If he turned over… Tomak grinned. Not yet. The heel of her hand found a particularly tight muscle beneath his shoulder blade. He groaned as she worked her fingertips against it.
“Feel good?”
“Yeah, real good,” Tomak agreed. He closed his eyes on a blissful sigh, the spicy scent surrounding him. Ioanne’s slight weight on his back only added to the massage.
Ioanne moved her attention to the back of his neck. “Good.” Bending forward, she pressed a kiss to the base of his neck. “Because I want you to feel good.”

Friday, May 22, 2009

Tartan Mind by Selena Illyria

Tartan Mind
by Selena Illyria

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-203-6
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Interracial, Werewolves
Series: Tartan Werewolves
Length: Novella

Kameron Conroy doesn't like dealing with mortals, so he's startled by the sudden urge to protect Lexi James when she comes into his pub. An attack from a werewolf leads to a passionate encounter before Lexi rushes off without a goodbye. Five years later they meet again at Conall's wedding and have another steamy hook-up.
Lexi was running away from her family when she met Kameron. Now she's back in Scotland and has taken the position of town librarian. When her ex breaks into her home, Kameron is there to save her but at a great cost to him.
Kameron has lost control of his mental abilities. Saving Lexi caused him to become trapped in his own mind. Can Lexi find help for him? Will they overcome his past wounds to be together?


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.

“Fine, you don’t want me here, I’m going.” Kameron Conroy grabbed his leather jacket off of a nearby chair and walked to the door. No one stopped him. Not his father or any of his siblings. It hurt but he was used to it. He was the only evidence of his mother’s affair, the only imperfect wolf of the pack, and his father hated imperfection. It was like a spot in the middle of a mirror that just wouldn’t be wiped away. Pulling on the coat, he opened the door and walked out into the cool, crisp Scottish night. The stars were bright against the black velvet sky, the moon only half full in her orb.
His wolf whimpered within him, wanting to be let out. “Not yet, boy, not until we’re far, far away from this place.”
Kameron yanked open the door of his jeep, pausing to take one last look at the place he used to call home. As always, the imposing brick structure looked cold and uninviting, just like his father.
Kameron got into the vehicle, started it and took off, tires spraying tiny bits of gravel and stone into the air. At first he wasn’t sure where he was going or what he would do when he got there. After forty minutes of driving, he pulled into his favorite pub’s parking lot and shut off the engine.
Exhaling deeply, he didn’t immediately unbuckle his seat belt. Instead he rested his head on the seat and closed his eyes, his father’s words echoing in his head. You’re a disgrace. You’ve always been a spot on this family’s pristine history, a mistake. Now do us all a favor, and just leave. Save us the trouble of kicking you out of the pack.
Now he had no pack, no family. Despite the fact that he always felt that he could handle being alone, he needed a pack for protection. A lone werewolf was easier to pick off than one with backup. Out of frustration he hit the steering wheel of the car and let out a growl. Anger surged up within him hot and strong. “Damn him. Damn them all, elitist bastards. Just because Mother got tired of being a trophy and wanted love, she slept with a telepath. So what? It’s better than inbreeding.”
He hit the steering wheel one last time before climbing out of the car. He didn’t bother locking the door. “If they want to steal this piece of shite go ahead. I’ll just track them down. Nice way to work off aggression.”
His boots crunched on the gravel as he made his way to the entrance of the pub. Erecting his mental shields, he pushed open the door and stepped into the small meeting place. Head down, he made his way to the bar, hoping to get three sheets to the wind drunk. His red hair obscured the room around him. The scent of stale beer, cigarette smoke, sweat and perfume hung in the air.
All he saw was the wooden floor. He got to the bar, not bothering to look up. He could smell Brody’s cologne, letting him know he was dealing with a friend who wouldn’t ask too many questions. “The usual and keep it coming.”
“Rough night I take it. All right, your usual table is open but a word of advice: be careful.”
Brody’s words made him look up. “Why?”
Brody gestured for him to look around. Kameron’s head turned and he swore. Women were everywhere. Only three men were in the room, all huddled in a corner, nursing pints of their own. “Ladies’ night, man. Will’s idea to drum up business.”
“Is he daft?”
Brody laughed, “You know Will. What do you think?”
Kameron’s shoulders sank. He didn’t want to have to deal with anyone. Ladies’ night meant women either tipsy or all out drunk, looking for some action or someone to torment and tease. Kameron didn’t want to be the target for anyone’s fun, not with the mood he was in. “Just make sure they stay away from me.”
Brody shrugged. “I can try, mate, but I can’t guarantee it.”
“Whatever.” Kameron headed for his usual table and sat down. Head bowed he concentrated on studying the wooden planks that made up the tabletop. He heard giggling and tried to ignore it. More giggles and then the scent of lilacs filled the air around him, nearly choking him with the strong odor.
“Hey, love, we were just wondering.” The woman’s husky tone chafed Kameron’s nerves. “Does the carpet match the curtains?”
The woman’s hoarse laugh made him snap. He looked up and growled. “Get the fuck away from me.”
The woman’s eyes went wide. She held up her hands and slowly backed away. “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be an arsehole about it.” The woman turned around, her hair slapping him in the face. Kameron looked over at the bar, seeking out Brody. Brody was engaged with a woman who looked like she had just come in from the rain. Her clothes were dripping wet and stuck to her body like cellophane. Kameron rose and made his way to the bar. He needed another drink, now.
“Please, I need to use your phone. My car is stalled on the side of the road.” The sound of the woman’s soft voice made Kameron’s heart squeeze and his breath catch. A feeling of light-headedness overcame him. His cock twitched as heat pooled in his stomach, scorching hot. His mental shields dropped quickly and everyone’s thoughts invaded his head.
He’s so gorgeous. I wonder what’s wrong with him, a brunette sitting at the bar commented.
What an arsehole, I was only having a bit of fun with him. This from the woman who had just approached him.
Where are all the men? I need to get laid. This pub is ridiculous, thought a blonde in the corner.
I need to get to my hotel. I’m so tired and cold, the woman talking to Brody thought wearily.
Kameron quickly brought his shields back up and composed himself as best he could. Placing his elbows on the bar, he concentrated on waiting patiently for Brody’s attention. His cock pressed against his zipper in response to the woman before him. Out of the corner of his eye, Kameron took in the mocha skin slick from the rain. Her hair was coming out of the topknot on her head in curling strands that framed her oval face. She reached up and pushed her glasses back on her nose with a delicate finger. Based on how short she was compared to Brody, Kameron guessed her to be about five foot three. Her face was free of makeup. The pleading look in her eyes tugged at his heartstrings.
“I’ll call someone. Where is the car?”
“On the side of the road about a mile outside of town.”
“You walked all the way here? In the dark?” Brody asked incredulously.
Kameron focused his full attention on the woman, his body turning toward her. She looked down and fidgeted with the umbrella in her hand. “I… I had to. I need to get to my hotel.”
“Jesus, I’ll call a cab to take you to your hotel and call the towing company for your car. You stay put,” Brody ordered.
“I can’t. All my things are in there.” Before he could stop her, she turned and dashed out of the bar. As the bar door closed, Kameron caught the sound of thunder rolling overhead and heavy rain hitting the ground.
“Fuck, she shouldn’t be out there alone. That’s O’Connell territory. I pity her if any one of those bastards gets a hold of her.”
Kameron’s heart stopped. He took off toward the door. Brody called after him, demanding to know why he was going after her. Kameron didn’t know, but his instincts were screaming for him to protect her. Outside, the rain was coming down so hard and fast it was like trying to look through opaque glass. The moon was hidden behind thick, dark clouds. He didn’t see her anywhere. Kameron rushed to his car and tore out of the parking lot as though the devil were on his heels.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Renato's Dragon Book Trailer/Promo

Done by the wonderfully talented Lizzie Lynn Lee (author of the Shunga Chronicles, Out Now at Changeling Press!): com/watch? v=JJ9ZZLGGBIY

Renato's Dragon, Out Now at Changeling Press!


She left him…

Renato's world shattered when his fiancée Magda disappeared. He buried himself in family, work and meaningless flings. Nothing filled the void in his life, and he could never forget the only woman he's ever loved.

She's back…

Magda was given a choice: her brother or her love. In order to find her lost brother, she had to give up Renato. She made a choice, one she has always regretted. She could never forget the man she left behind.

Now she's been ordered to kill him. Their lives are about to collide, secrets are about to be exposed, and danger waits in the shadows.

Will they survive when the dust settles?


Buy Link:

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Blood Oath Collection by Kira Stone

Blood Oath (Collection)
by Kira Stone

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-214-2
Genre(s): Paranormal, Dark Fantasy, Collections
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Collection


In Taggert's Bend, the vampires love to hate the magical tricksters, and the witches hate to love the unnatural beasts. So, to keep the feuding to a minimum, the blood drinkers refrain from dining on the magicians as long as the gifted spellcasters occasionally share with them a fraction of their natural charms.
Blending the essence of the natural and unnatural has unexpected consequences when a new Vampire Lord is selected to endure the Blood Oath. Each attempt to successfully conclude the Oath only creates more chaos. Will these powerful enemies conclude the spell before an evil they fear more than each other consumes them all?

Publisher's Note: This collection contains the previously published novellas Blood Price, Blood Magic, A Marked Man, and Blood Oath.


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.

Lord Rainer Allen surveyed the action in the steam room. Naked, writhing bodies adorned almost every surface, perhaps twenty in total. Any one of them could be his sex partner. All he had to do was beckon, and they'd come running. Just thinking about it made him hard.
That's where he had to stop. At thinking about it. To act on his urges would be foolish in the extreme.
Kassian nudged him with a toe. "See anything you like?" The vampire lay on his side, one leg bent up to give Rainer a good look at his nine-inch cock as he stroked it to fullness.
"Nothing I'm dying to have." Rainer preferred men to women. He'd made no secret of it, but his openness sometimes worked against him. Kassian had been trying to seduce him since he'd transferred in from Eastern Europe. Seventy-four years was one heck of a long time to continually reject a very tempting offer.
"I'd be using them, and possibly hurting them in the process. They deserve better treatment than that."
"Use me. I don't mind a little pain."
Sebastian's arrival prevented Rainer from having to answer. The blond perched on the stone bench next to his husky lover. "I see you started without me." He took over the stroking.
Kassian put his hands behind his head and interlaced his fingers, his eyes on Rainer as Sebastian turned putty into stone. "What took you so long?"
"Door alarm went off." Sebastian kissed the inside of his lover's knee.
Rainer watched the landscape of the black leather stretched across the blond's lap change from a plateau to a mountain peak. Kassian alone was dangerous enough to Rainer's self-control. When joined by his rough and ready live-in lover, the combination was kryptonite against his inner strength. Each time it got harder to resist their enticement. Tonight he might be foolish enough, and desperate enough, to take them up on it.
Hoping there was a crisis brewing so he'd have an excuse to dodge them a few more hours, Rainer asked, "Problem?"
"No, just a neophyte who couldn't tell his ass from a hole in the wall. He's so fresh out of the grave he still triggered the mortal buzzer."
Kassian lowered the zipper of Sebastian's pants, exposing a long white column of rigid flesh. "You should've taken the time to show him around. Maybe by then I'd have had Rani talked into fucking us."
Rainer stiffened in more ways than one. "No. Not going to happen. End of subject." His denial probably would have carried more weight if he hadn't been drooling over the sight of Seb's cleanly shaven balls. Kass was one lucky vamp to have such a fine lover in his bed every night.
Sebastian knelt beside Rainer, brushing against his arm. Rainer closed his eyes, both fearing and desperately eager for whatever the young vampire would do next.
A velvet soft caress of his nipple sent a shaft of heat to his groin. Again and again, the head of Seb's cock rubbed over his sensitive nubbin. Rainer sat on the stone bench, boneless, and let him toy with danger.
"Let us fuck you, Rainer. We know how to take care of you. It'll be okay, I promise."
"No." But the word meant nothing. Even as he spoke, his traitorous hand was gliding up the back of Sebastian's thigh. He grabbed the blond's firm, rounded buttock and guided him into a faster rhythm as the youthful vamp continued to fuck Rainer's masculine tit. Such a little thing, but it was more than he'd permitted any other being to do in a long, long time. It felt so good.
And it was, oh, so wrong.
Rainer pushed Sebastian away. "Stop. No more."
Kassian approached from the other side. He cupped Rainer's straining shaft. Just holding it in his cool fist. Rainer fought against the strong urge to thrust through it as Kass said, "Trust us. Seb did some research on the Blood Oath and its effect on Vampire Lords. He has it all figured out."
"Something'll go wrong," Rainer protested. "It always does."
"We know the risks and accept them."
Sebastian scooped Rainer's black hair away from his neck, exposing his throat. He placed dry kisses along the cords of muscle he found there.
No shit. Rainer didn't need his inner guard dog to warn him of impending doom. If they pressed on, someone was going to get hurt. His friends might accept the risks, but he couldn't. He refused to endanger them just because he was tired of his hand being the only one to jerk him off.
"Enough, guys. Stop. I mean it." Rainer stood up, moving out of their range. He looked ridiculous given the way his erect penis jutted out. Nothing he could do about that here.
Kassian swore in a language so old that very few who heard the words would be able to translate them. "You're a coward, Rani. I really thought you had bigger balls."
Sebastian, equally frustrated, drummed his heels against the stone bench. "You don't trust us."
Seb had it wrong. It was the beast inside himself that Rainer didn't trust. The Blood Oath he'd taken upon becoming a lord was both a blessing and a curse. The rite had imbued him with mystical powers which gave him more tolerance for sunlight, allowed him to consume less blood and heightened his senses, among other benefits.
The downside of the oath was that no one, not vampire or mortal, could withstand prolonged exposure to his bodily fluids, nor he to theirs. He had no choice but to obey its demands, a slave to its requirements above and beyond his own. If he didn't heed the warning, he'd black out for hours, as long as a whole day. Those who tried to cheat the system too many times risked death, the kind a vampire could not recover from.
The single exception was to find the one person nature had assigned as his mate. His soul mate. The one person in a world of billions who could tolerate his touch. His kiss. His intimate embrace. One person Rainer knew didn't exist in Taggart's Bend.
And because he'd let his friends tempt him into thinking the oath could be circumvented, however briefly, he was going to have a raging hard-on for the rest of the night. He was angry, lonely and horny as hell.
He rounded on his companions, determined to get the message across so they would stop trying to cheat the system and accept his limitations. "If trust and desire were enough, Seb, you'd be on your back right now with my cock buried so deep inside you it'd tickle your nose. If affection meant anything, I'd be begging Kassian to suck me until I came so hard he'd choke on it."
Even a simple kiss posed considerable risk. A tongue-tangling, soul-sucking kiss. He missed the intimacy of those more than all the rest combined. Another admission Sebastian and Kassian wouldn't understand so he didn't bother to make it.
He pushed the thoughts of unfulfilled desires aside and finished what he had to say. "If you care for me at all, help me look for the one person in the whole freaking world who isn't poison to me instead of spending your considerable brain power on how you can circumvent it."
The room was very quiet when he got done talking. He glanced around and realized he'd been shouting. None of the witnesses to his outburst would meet his eye, except for a lone figure hovering at the archway leading out of the hot moist chamber. A face he didn't recognize. Rainer stared at him until he turned his back and walked out.
Fuck. Rainer started toward another exit leading to the dressing area.
Kass continued to peel his lover out of his leather encasement as if nothing untoward had been said. "Where are you going, Rani?"
He needed some time alone, a distraction. Anything to get his mind off his raging erection. "To find the ingénue. Maybe he'll have a problem I can solve."