House of MonMarte: Willa's Master by Violet Summers

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House of MonMarte: Willa's Master by Violet Summers cover art by Bryan Keller ISBN: 978-1-60521-423-8 Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes, BDSM Theme(s): Vampires, BBW Series: House of MonMarte Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1388

Blurb:
Willa Amber has long known she was a sexual submissive at heart, so it wasn't the open BDSM practiced at the exclusive House of MonMarte that sent her stomach plummeting. It wasn't even the knowledge that most of the Masters and Mistresses were more – or less – than human. No, what sent shivers down her spine was being so close to, yet so far from, Victor Breon. Vampire and Dom, Master Victor has had his eye on Willa for a long time; long enough to know that she belongs to him, body and soul. Now he just needs to prove it to her.
Excerpt:
House of MonMarte: Willa's Master
Violet Summers
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Violet Summers

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.
He was the perfect romance novel hero. The artist in her itched to paint him. Naked and on his back, he'd have one arm under his head and the other would rest across his flat stomach; long, elegant fingers pointing tauntingly downward. She imagined thick thighs and narrow hips. She'd place a sheet along his hip, wanting only a hint of what he might be carrying between his strong legs. His fangs would be down and she would paint a trickle of blood at the corner of his full mouth.
Damn but she wanted him, and not just to paint. She yearned to know what it felt like to be controlled by one of the sexiest vampires to ever walk the planet. She wasn't a fool, though. Victor Breon was always in the company of some statuesque beauty, usually blonde and definitely stacked. Her five foot four frame and short brown hair wasn't his preferred partner. She bet her small rounded stature would inspire no lust in him whatsoever. It didn't stop her from coming here to watch him, even though she always swore she'd never return.
"More champagne, mademoiselle?" a slave asked, plucking a glass off his tray. She smiled and drained the rest of her drink before accepting the new one. The bubbles hit her belly and she giggled involuntarily. She loved the way champagne made her feel, light and airy and without a care in the world. Normally she only allowed herself one glass but tonight Lisa was driving, so Willa was on her third. Not drunk, but definitely light-headed, she moved to a pair of French doors; some fresh air would feel good and might help to cool down her heated body.
Willa walked out into the expansive gardens, wandering along the lush green grass. She kicked off her shoes, savoring the refreshing, velvety dampness of the lawn beneath her feet, and moved further into the garden beyond the flowers beds. Tall hedges, well over six feet, surrounded her on either side, providing a sense of intimacy laced with apprehension. She came upon a large marble table alongside a bench and had a brief mental image of a woman -- herself -- stretched out on the table, a bound sacrifice to a specific Master. Sitting on the cool surface of the table, she gazed at the full moon.
Tipping her head back, she closed her eyes and imagined Victor behind her, slowly running his hands along her arms, kissing the back of her neck and nibbling, softly at first, then harder, until sharp fangs stung soft skin. His hands would move slowly, surely, to cup her full breasts, stealing her breath. The scene played vividly in her mind and she lifted one hand to her left breast. She slipped her hand inside her low cut bodice, stroking her nipple.
She moaned a little as she moved her other hand to her thigh to pull up the skirt of her black silk dress. Her hand dragged across her panties. Soaking wet. She opened her eyes and checked to see if anyone was near, but the height of the hedges afforded her privacy.
She dipped two fingers between her lower lips and stroked around her tight clit. Hot pleasure shot through her and she moved her fingers faster, playing with her full lower lips and pinching her nipple even tighter. The slight pain rippled from her breast straight to her core. She leaned back on the surface of the wide table, propped on one elbow, and spread her legs wider, allowing her fingers to slip inside her entrance and stroke the wet flesh there. She pushed them as deep as she could reach and moved them sensuously back and forth, her hips rising and falling in rhythm with her stroking.
She cried out and her back arched off the bench as her orgasm rode up her spine; she was only a few strokes away. He'd be standing behind her, watching her, controlling her.
"Do not come." Willa froze, a breath away from explosion, reacting mindlessly to the low, accented voice that seemed to float straight out of her fantasy to wrap around her.
She knew that voice. Even if she'd only ever heard it from a distance in real life, she'd heard it often enough in her fantasies and dreams. It was the voice of her fantasy Master, Victor Breon. Scrambling back to an upright position, she snapped her knees together.
"Keep your thighs open." The voice -- it couldn't really be Victor, that had to be the champagne talking -- was filled with such sensual command that she immediately spread her legs again, helpless to resist. She heard him grunt his satisfaction. "You insult your hosts by coming out here alone instead of finding someone to share your pleasure with." His voice deepened. "You are a very badly trained submissive, Willa."
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Cookies by Sarah Black

 

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Cookies by Sarah Black cover art by Marteeka Karland ISBN: 978-1-60521-421-4 Genre(s): Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary) Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1386

Blurb:
Kenny Lee had avoided the cutthroat competition between cooks until his old friend Julio lures him into a friendly little cookie booth at the farmer's market. Then the competition heats up, the cookies heat up, and Julio and Kenny Lee find they have their hands full -- with each other!
Excerpt:
Cookies
Sarah Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Sarah Black

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
"We have several new vendors for this year's Capital City Farmer's Market, including Udderly Delicious, an organic goat dairy concentrating on yogurt --" There was polite applause when Brie gestured to the young farmers. "-- Tongues On Fire, a specialty pepper farmer, and Shangri-La, Cookies from Heaven." Kenny Lee waved a hand in the air, and the other vendors gave him a hand. "Big Bill's Cookies has been the only cookie vendor for two years. It's always good to have a bit of friendly competition. Kenny Lee, can you tell us about your cookies?"
"I'm using all organic ingredients," he said, "and I'm concentrating on the gourmet market. The best ingredients and special care. I would suspect the more sophisticated market patron will like my cookies."
Big Bill gave a tiny cough behind his hand. "So if people want a plain old chocolate chip or an oatmeal raisin, they'll still have to come to me?" Big Bill was only his name during market season. The rest of the year he went by his real name, Julio.
Kenny Lee ignored him. "If people want, for instance, Scottish shortbread made with unrefined cane sugar, from a two-hundred-year-old recipe, or a sugar cookie with rose ganache and candied rose petals, or perhaps a Medjool date stuffed with almond paste and lavender, they can come to Shangri-La. If you want a Chocolate McChip, you can go to Big Bill's."
Brie patted Julio on the shoulder. His face had turned as pink as rose ganache. "I can see this is going to be an exciting year for cookies! Maybe we can hear now from Tongues on Fire."
When the pepper farmer stood up to speak, Kenny Lee leaned forward, stared at Julio until the other man turned around. They locked eyes, and Kenny Lee made a sudden slicing gesture across his neck. Julio just grinned at him, jerked his fist up and down between his legs. Kenny Lee sat back. It was indeed going to be an interesting season for cookies.
Kenny Lee had run into Julio a few weeks earlier. It had been a couple of years since they finished cooking school together. Julio had snagged the primo job, as sous chef at Naropa Café, the best organic vegan café in Boise. Kenny Lee had been happy for a job as sous chef at the Plaza Grill. He liked it okay, though they strayed very far from the principles of the Slow Food movement, and slow food was his passion. Julio had hugged him, dragged him off for an espresso with a dab of whipped cream and a shaving of dark chocolate on top.
"Kenny Lee, I saw your mom the other day. She was wearing this t-shirt that said 'One Tough Mother.' Scared me a little. She was with this whole group of women doing a march or something. They looked pissed and ready to rumble. What was she protesting?"
"Could be anything. She's a storm trooper for the National Organization of Women. She puts on those boots, I make myself scarce, you know what I mean? How's Naropa?"
"I quit six months ago." He shook his head. "Kenny Lee, you would not believe it. Nobody cares about good food anymore. It's all about money, making money, saving money, cutting corners. I couldn't take it. So I went to the Gamekeeper's Lodge."
Kenny Lee goggled at him. "Are you kidding me? That steak and potato palace? What are you doing there?"
"Suffering, bud. But I've got my own little moneymaker, a cookie booth at the farmer's market. I'm saving up. I've got a plan. For the future."
"Hey, I was thinking about doing a pie booth at the farmer's market!"
"No way, man. The Amish ladies have the pie market sewn up. Why don't you do a cookie booth? A little friendly competition can only be good for business. Just don't expect me to do slow food anymore. I've resigned. America wants cheap and supersized, and that's what I'm going to give them."
Julio was waiting for him outside the market meeting, leaning against the brick wall of the Idaho Building. "Chocolate McChip? You're such a dick. And candied rose petals on a cookie in Boise? Good luck with that." He nibbled on a tiny pastry, no bigger than his thumb. Kenny Lee came to attention like a hound dog pointing. Julio had been the top of their class in pastry. To hear that Julio had turned away from the purity of the Slow Foods movement was on par with Anakin Skywalker turning toward the Dark Side.
"What's that you're eating?"
Julio held another tiny pastry out to him. "Nothing. Just a little snack."
Kenny Lee studied the tiny tart. It looked like a shortbread crust, and the filling? He sniffed. Something rich and Mediterranean... He took a nibble. Oh, man. Pure butter shortbread, Sicilian salt, and the filling was fig and a tiny bit of chopped, fresh cherry. He closed his eyes, let the buttery crust melt across his tongue. Butter and figs, something about that combination always went straight to his balls. He cleared his throat, and hoped Julio wouldn't notice the unfortunate bulge in his Levi's. Or if he noticed, he would be a gentleman and not...
"Looks like you're about ready to let your big dog off the leash. Why don't you come on upstairs with me?"
Kenny Lee rubbed both hands down across his face. "We shouldn't be sleeping together, now we're competitors."
"I don't think a couple of dueling cookie stands at the farmer's market comes under the same type of competition as, say, Olympians going for the same gold, or small countries..."
Kenny Lee held up his hand in surrender. "Okay, you made your point."
"Come on, then."
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The Prowleryns: Eber's Angel by Kate Hill

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Prowleryns: Eber's Angel by Kate Hill cover art by Karen Fox ISBN: 978-1-60521-335-4 Genre(s): Paranormal Theme(s): Interracial, Shapeshifters Series: Prowleryns Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1387

Blurb:

Lost in a South American jungle, Drew, a wildlife photographer, is shocked to find a sexy yet savage creature trapped in a quicksand pit. Part man and part beast, it looks ferocious yet something in its beautiful green eyes compels her to help him.
For over five hundred years Eber reigned as leader of his Prowleryn tribe. Now he has turned over leadership to his son, Joshi. While traveling alone in the wilderness, Eber stumbles into quicksand and is rescued by a human female.
Eber has spent most of his life hating humans. Since the death of his wife, who was killed by hunters, there has been an emptiness in his soul. He never dreamed a human could stir his lust or touch his heart, but Drew does the impossible. Unable to resist the beautiful photographer, he finally comes to terms with his grief and learns to love again.
Excerpt:
Prowleryns: Eber's Angel
Kate Hill
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Kate Hill

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.
Drew considered herself a hunter, even though she'd never killed. She was always searching for the perfect wildlife shot, which explained why at the moment she was lost in a South American jungle.
If she'd paid closer attention to her guide and less to the almost magical pull of her camera lens, she wouldn't be in such danger right now. Panic nearly set in, but she forced herself to remain calm and focus on finding some indication of which way to travel.
She heard a cry -- something between a feline shriek and a human bellow. Her heart skipped a beat. Dangerous animals stalked this wilderness, yet she'd never heard any beast sound quite like this.
Over and over the cries tore through the jungle. Drew sensed desperation in that voice. Overcome by curiosity, she ventured toward, rather than away from the sound. She pushed herself through a tangle of vegetation into a clearing. Her eyes widened.
Buried chest deep in quicksand struggled a creature unlike anything she'd ever seen. Its face looked both human and feline. Though built like a man, it was covered in a leopard pelt. Its sinewy arms and long, clawed fingers stretched toward the overhanging branch of a nearby tree, but it couldn't quite reach it. The harder it fought for freedom, the deeper it sank.
Torn between pity and fear, Drew realized this beast would soon die a horrible death. It paused for a moment, its chest heaving. Clearly it was losing strength. She had no way of knowing how long it had been trapped there, fighting for freedom.
At that moment it caught sight of her. Drew momentarily forgot to breathe. Even from a distance she saw keen intelligence and sensitivity in its greenish-yellow eyes.
It didn't utter a sound, but something in its expression told her that even if it could speak it wouldn't ask for her help. If this creature understood pride, if it sensed its own mortality, she couldn't leave it to die.
She was probably risking her life. Once free, this creature could tear her apart. Its -- his -- powerfully muscled body, clawed hands and gleaming fangs marked him as a predator. She didn't have a weapon to defend herself, yet she approached.
He watched her warily.
"Easy," she said, her heart pounding. She slipped off her backpack and gear and placed it on the ground. "I just want to help you. Can you understand me?"
Except for a low growl, he didn't reply but stared at her.
She stepped closer, careful not to get too near the pit. How could she reach him?
She pulled off her belt and tossed it to him. He grabbed hold and she tried to heave him out. Lord he was heavy, and with the pull of the quicksand she wasn't sure she could free him. He tried pulling himself out, but only succeeded in dragging her closer to the pit.
"No, don't!" she said and released the belt.
He fell deeper into the quicksand. A low moan of despair escaped his throat. Again their gazes locked and the expression in his eyes tugged at her heart.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry. Maybe I can bring the branch closer to you."
She jumped up and after a couple of tries caught hold of the overhanging branch. She pulled down as hard as she could while the creature in the pit stretched his long arms upward. He caught hold of the branch and it creaked beneath his weight. Inch by torturous inch he dragged himself higher, his claws sinking into the bark. The branch looked close to snapping.
Drew bit her lower lip. He had to make it this time. He had to!
As he emerged from the quicksand, she stared in fascination. Beneath the smooth, leopard like pelt, he had the form of an athletic man -- a lean waist, long legs of chiseled muscle, and a tight, perfect ass. He was also completely naked.
Finally he reached the side of the pit. Only when he grasped her ankle did she realize she'd stayed far too close to this creature.
Now that he had her, what was to stop him from tearing her to pieces? He looked partly human, but would he react like one?
She gave a sharp cry as he tugged her to the ground. Instead of harming her, he collapsed on top of her, still panting from his narrow escape, his big, rock-hard body half draped over hers.
Drew lay frozen, her heart pounding. Beneath the layer of sand and mud, his pelt felt smooth and his body quite warm.
After a few moments, his breathing evened out and he lifted his head to stare into her eyes.
Drew swallowed, unsure of what to do. She wondered if he could talk. There was only one way to find out. "Can you understand me?" she asked.
He didn't reply, but continued watching her. Those wide set greenish eyes were intelligent. She sensed he knew what she said but was unable or unwilling to respond, at least not in words.
He pushed himself to his knees, and when she tried to rise as well, he placed a hand on her stomach.
Drew's pulse raced and she remained still, half raised on her elbows. She glanced at the large, hairy hand, waiting for his claws to tear through her clothes and flesh. Though firm, his touch didn't hurt and after a moment his hand moved slowly up her torso. As it passed between her breasts, her nipples tightened and tingled. Finally he paused, his hand curved lightly around her throat.
"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" she continued softly, her voice steadier than she felt.
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Man vs Wild by Lena Austin

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Man vs Wild by Lena Austin cover art by Reneé George ISBN: 978-1-60521-118-3 Genre(s): Paranormal Theme(s): Vampires, Shapeshifters, Gay and Lesbian Series: Coyotes of Yellowstone Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1385
Blurb:

Survival show star Foxxe Wylder thinks his season ending show in Yellowstone may be as stale as his career, and he's ready for a break prowling the urban jungles back home. He didn't plan to hit a coyote on the road, nor that the charming little canine would turn his world upside down.
Reno never wanted pack life, and the idea of finding a mate and raising a litter of pups isn't on his wish list. Neither is being hit by Foxxe's SUV. Then, Foxxe's producer gets an idea -- Foxxe will release the cutest coyote on TV back into the wild, now that the vet has taken care of him. However, one stubborn coyote has ideas of his own.
Excerpt:
Foxxe Wylder downshifted his new toy, a brand new coal black Lincoln Navigator. Yeah, he knew the jokes about how "luxury" and "SUV" were a contradiction in terms, but Foxxe figured he'd earned a few benefits because of his job. He wasn’t looking forward to the next challenge that was for sure.

As if he could read his star's mind, Foxxe's producer Wayne tapped on Foxxe's shoulder. "How many more hours before we make it
to Yellowstone? "

Foxxe checked the GPS. Yeah, he loved the gadgets. He wouldn't have the luxury --there was that word again-- of a GPS or even a compass once they started filming the next episode of "Wild Survival" for the audience of the Discovery Channel who ate up every one of Foxxe's adventures of survival. "I'm guessing an hour or two, maybe. Who's our contact again?"

A soft snore from the front passenger side made Foxxe grin. His faithful cameraman Andy snoozed in the pre-dawn darkness, clutching one of his smaller expensive cameras like a kid cuddling a teddy bear. Andy had celluloid on the brain and had since childhood. In truth, Foxxe considered Andy braver and crazier than even himself. Foxxe was an ex-Navy Seal with too many medals for bravery and undetected crime for his own good, but any cameraman who worked documentaries ate great white sharks for breakfast and cleaned his teeth with lionfish quills. Nothing scared those crazy bastards but missing the shot.

Wayne slouched back in his seat. "Dr. Jeff Gleason, a volcanologist. He's your guide in." Wayne pulled out his ever-present notepad and Blackberry from under the paper piles he’d spread all over the back seat. "He's not happy about it, but his bosses at USGS insist he do this. I'm trying to convince him his job includes allowing us to film him. He's a Comanche. Our research
assistant waxed poetic. Apparently he's..."

"...A sex god waiting for a temple or other such shit. Yeah, I heard her." Foxxe sighed. He didn't need Wayne to know his star was gay, and he damn sure didn't want his fans to know, or the network would cancel the show for any excuse they could find. Foxxe held no illusions about his bosses. They were predators, all of them, and if they smelled any sort of weakness in you, they'd exploit it mercilessly. They thought Foxxe was some macho war hero who fucked six women a night, and Foxxe reaped the rewards of their illusions. However, the reality was that Foxxe went without sex more often than not.
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Troll's Blog Collection by Shelby Morgen

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Troll's Blog (Collection) by Shelby Morgen cover art by Reneé George ISBN: 978-1-60521-307-1 Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Collections Theme(s): Interracial, Ménage, Bisexual and More, BBW, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Men and Women in Uniform, Gay and Lesbian Length: Collection

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1384
Blurb:

<><><><><><><><><><>
RENT THIS AD SPACE! Submit your bid now
<><><><><><><><><><> Welcome to Troll's Blog.
So you want to know about Trolls. Well, the only thing I can tell you is about this Troll. I'm taller than most of you, stronger, faster, and I have wicked teeth. All perfectly straight, thanks to modern orthodontia, and very, very sharp.
If you're a Troll, what better place to hang out than under a bridge, right? I mean really. What's the use in being a Troll if you can't catch a good laugh now and then? But if you're a Cop, chances are you're like genetically predisposed to mess with the Troll. Not a good move. Especially when the Troll has a thing for Cops. Especially tall, strong, hot bodied cops... Or at least one Cop in particular...
Oh. Sorry about the ads... we're using a lot of bandwidth these days. Got to do something to stay on the grid.
Troll's Blog includes: Troll Under the Bridge, Troll in the Shadows, Den Mother, and Window Shopping.
Excerpt:
Troll's Blog
Shelby Morgen
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Shelby Morgen

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.

More than a little pissed off now, I stood, meeting him eye to eye, running my nice, sharp nail down the seam of his zipper. Even the feel of that hot, hard cock jumping at my touch wasn't enough, now. "You got a problem with Trolls, Mr. Cop? Not good enough to hang out with you humans, are we? Can't possibly be doing anything as innocent as just sitting on a park bench. Must be doing something illegal. Why not prostitution? All Trolls are inherently evil anyway, right? Must be doing something wrong. Let's all pick on the Troll."

The sight of my bared fangs, fully exposed now and rather close to his face, should have sent him running, screaming for help. Instead he did what I'd wanted him to do in the first place -- he grabbed me and kissed me. Did I mention the man was built? No lesser human could have pulled an enraged Troll against his chest, held her there, and practically bruised her lips with a kiss like that. Damn he was good. Hot and angry and questing, his tongue battled with mine, fitting nicely between the tusks, raking over my teeth and stealing my breath away.

He clawed at me, bunching my skirt up, gripping the firm cheeks of my ass, grinding my pussy against the growing tent in the front of his pants. Oh, God. It was hard to remember why I was mad at this Cop while his cock was driving me wild. I shoved my hands between us, tearing at his zipper, but there was too much Cop stuff in the way. He released my ass long enough to reach for his gunbelt and I shifted my stance, widening my legs to give him better access. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, I pulled my mouth back from his and bit him -- hard -- on the shoulder.

Excerpt from Troll Under the Bridge
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Wolf's Layer by Carlanime Bligh (Paranormal, Guilty Pleasures, IR, Werewolves)

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Wolf's Layer by Carlanime Bligh cover art by Reneé George ISBN: 978-1-60521-428-3 Genre(s): Paranormal, Guilty Pleasures Theme(s): Interracial, Werewolves Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1390

Nisha Jenkins is a Layer, gifted with special powers by the Orisha of love and intimacy, Oshun. Now she has her second assignment: help a hapless werewolf leave his pack so he can marry the woman he loves. Trouble is, Kevin hasn't been entirely upfront about what she'll have to do to help him win his freedom. Now she's face to face with the Alpha of the pack who's demanding his traditional right to bed Kevin's Moot date -- and that's Nisha.


Alastar Canagan is a powerful man (well, some of the time!), and not used to being turned down. What's a Layer to do?

Excerpt:
Wolf's Layer
Carlanime Bligh
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Carlanime Bligh

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.
Nisha Jenkins stumbled into her living room in search of the source of the crash that had woken her at four in the freaking morning. Ah, yes, and there it was -- a guy in a long, dark coat and black fedora, surrounded by the remains of her IKEA CD stand and scattered CDs. Her Layer... guide, or whatever he was called. Wonderful. "It's you."
He straightened up guiltily from his efforts to pick up her music collection. "Yes."
"Here. In my apartment."
"Well, yes."
"Hear the joy in my voice?"
He considered this for a moment and then admitted, "Not really, no."
"That's because I'm not happy to see you. Why are you here? Did I do something really awful in a past life or something?"
What little she could see of his face – and between the upturned collar and the low tilt of his hat, that wasn't much -- appeared to be pouting. He sighed, the overly dramatic sigh of the much-put-upon. "I'm here to give you your assignment." He pulled a notebook from one pocket and consulted it. "After I evaluate your current emotional and mental fitness."
"After you what?"
"Don't ask me. This is something new they brought down from headquarters. So, Nisha, anything going on in your personal life I should know about?"
She thought for a moment about her long-term, on-again off-again boyfriend, Slade. Last night he'd proposed, for about the millionth time, and she'd refused for about the half millionth -- the other fifty percent of the time she just changed the subject. Seriously, she was beginning to wonder if her fear of commitment might just be a signal she needed to move on.
Except, every time she considered the possibility of never again getting her hands -- or other more pertinent parts -- on that gorgeous body, she ditched the idea of ditching Slade. Then she thought about Slade's younger brother, Bennett, who'd called yesterday to ask her out. For reasons she didn't want to consider too closely right now, she'd said yes.
"No." She shook her head. "Absolutely nothing."
He didn't look like he believed her, but he also didn't look like he was going to pursue the issue. "Excellent. Then I have your next assignment."
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Beautiful Music-- Daze on End by Faith Talbot

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Beautiful Music: Daze on End by Faith Talbot cover art by Marteeka Karland ISBN: 978-1-60521-420-7 Genre(s): Paranormal Theme(s): Ménage, Bisexual and More Series: Beautiful Music Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1383
Blurb:

When Kayla gets an extra ticket to a rock concert from her assistant, she never dreams she'll be hooking up with the far younger lead singer before the show. It's a great one-night stand -- until the bass player, Erik, calls her a few nights later. Jason is sick, and only Kayla can help him.
Jason and Erik of Daze on End have navigated a strange, energy-based sexual puzzle their whole lives. When Kayla enters their lives, some of the answers begin to fall into place as the three of them find themselves beginning an erotic journey that will change all their lives.
Excerpt:
Beautiful Music: Daze on End
Faith Talbot
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Faith Talbot
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.
He was rangy and lean, with shaggy dark blond hair, and shoulders a little too wide for the rest of him. It was the kind of body so many men don't grow into until their mid-thirties, Kayla thought. A good body. He had a few more years of muscle-building to go.
His cock tasted like salt and iron.
He had his back up against the wall, his mouth slack, gray eyes glazed as his orgasm trembled its way into his hips. She curled her fingers around the base of his dick to hold him off, and he moaned a protest. She grinned, mouth stretching around his shaft.
It wasn't the best place for a blowjob. She wasn't even sure where they were -- she'd just followed him when he led the way. It wasn't the bathrooms and it wasn't backstage, but it was somewhere between the bar and the place where the band would be preparing for their performance in a few minutes. She didn't really care. She had a mouth full of cock, the smell of his musk tickling her nose, the taut skin of his belly trembling under her fingers. It's all good.
She hadn't really meant to pick him up. In fact, she still wasn't sure if she'd picked him up or he'd picked her up. It was hard to tell sometimes, when you met each other's eyes across a bar and that lightning-fast "fuck me" shot across the room between you. She bought him a drink, he came to her table; the courtship lasted perhaps fifteen minutes and ended with her on her knees.
She curled her fingers around his scrotum, feeling his balls draw up. A careful squeeze stopped him, and his sharp sound of protest sounded almost like pain. She couldn't help laughing at him. She knew how to do these things. She had the experience he was too young to have accumulated. Far too young.
Her chuckle made his hand tighten in her hair. "Don't hold me off, baby. I have to go on in fifteen minutes." His tone was easy and amused. No anger in it at all. She had to give him credit there, since she'd strangled his orgasm twice now.
Go on. She wondered at the statement, but not for long. He pushed his cock into her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat. Not hard, just a little demanding. She decided she liked him. She swallowed with the head of his cock pressed against the very back of her mouth, and he gave an appreciative hum. His hips tilted back a little and his fingers tightened in her hair. She knew this was his signal that she should pull back or swallow a good mouthful of jizz. Kayla opted to swallow.
Above her, she heard his gasp, ecstasy threaded with surprise, maybe a little gratitude. I do like him. I really do.
His hips bucked, his back arching against the wall behind him. His fingers clenched in Kayla's hair, then relaxed until he was combing through it instead of holding on.
She drew back, licked the full length of his shaft, the sleek, trembling head. He flinched back, wincing and laughing at the same time. Kayla tucked him neatly back in and refastened his fly, then kissed the layer of denim on top of the zipper. His hand came down to her shoulder, and his gentle touch drew her to her feet.
He was at least six inches taller than she was. He didn't just dip his head to kiss her -- he lowered his whole body, bent knees, bowed spine, like he was surrendering all of himself into her space.
His mouth was generously shaped, and he knew what to do with it. She craved it suddenly, wanted it between her thighs. Not here, though. If this was a bad place for fellatio, it was an even worse place for cunnilingus.
He was probably about to leave, anyway, if he had to "go on." It sounded like he must be with the opening band. Kayla had had no idea.
He took his time kissing her, though, behaving not at all like someone who needed to be somewhere else in ten minutes. His hand lifted to cup the back of her head and he angled her a little, giving himself better access to her mouth. She opened beneath him. She only knew she was about to moan when she felt the vibration in the back of her throat. He chuckled at the sound and stroked her tongue with his. He tasted... like beer and like man, maybe vaguely of weed. It wasn't the most appetizing combination, but it was arousing. Ridiculously so.
Kayla knew he was going to leave any minute -- this was probably the good-bye smooch. The kiss-off, as it were, but oh, it was a good one. She knew this, but she still wanted... more than he had time to give her.
It was the want, the need, that made her hand press down between her own legs, where her cunt felt too big for the space allotted for it there. And wet. Slick. So wet it felt like her body could slide in half, like he could press fingers, hand, his entire arm inside her and meet no resistance.
The heel of her hand pressed between her legs, into that heat burning through her jeans, and brushed against another hand on its way to the same place. Surprised, she opened her eyes and drew her head back. He was looking at her with mischief in his gray eyes. A thick shock of messy blond hair nearly obscured them. She had a sudden urge to brush it back.
"You have to go on," she said, barely hearing herself. Her ears were buzzing, her whole body an aching throb longing for release.
He grinned. His fingers -- long, slim, a musician's fingers, and how could she have missed that? -- brushed hers aside and he slid his hand down the front of her jeans. No unbuttoning, no unzipping -- just his hand down past the fly and inside her panties. It was a bit tight in there for him to maneuver, but he managed it, and his fingertips slid unerringly onto her clit. She flinched, and he chuckled.
"So wet," he muttered. "So fucking wet."
She grabbed his head and dragged his mouth back down to hers. Suddenly she didn't want him looking at her. It was one thing when she had his dick in her mouth, and he was too blinded by lust to see through the shadows. To figure out she was a long way away from having been in his graduating class.
He devoured her mouth while his thumb rolled against her clit and long, clever fingers slid down and inside her. He pressed hard, pressed in, and she couldn't help it. She fell apart as a shower of sparks broke behind her eyelids. The sounds she made were ridiculous, but he swallowed them down, sucking her tongue into his mouth.
When he drew back, he was laughing. "See?" The smugness in his voice was almost enough to make her want to smack him. Almost. "That didn't take long at all."

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The Pridelands6: Achan's Peace by Jade Buchanan

Read an excerpt

The Pridelands 6: Achan's Peace by Jade Buchanan cover art by Reneé George ISBN: 978-1-60521-429-0 Genre(s): Sci-Fi Theme(s): Ménage, Shapeshifters, Gay and Lesbian Series: The Pridelands Length: Novella

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Blurb:

Not all wounds are physical. Achan Steinsson knows that better than most. His first trip off planet had culminated in him being kidnapped and abused at the hands of humans. His family may have rescued him, but his constant nightmares won't let him move forward.
Hunter Miles shares a very special bond with Achan. His brother was the one who kidnapped the young Leo, not surprising from a man who had mentally and physically abused Hunter from childhood. The Felidae took him away from that life, but he wants more than anything to be able to move on and express his love for Achan.
Tafa Morn came to Felid to visit his cousin after he was injured in battle on Seren, but he never expected to find two wounded souls that needed his particular brand of care. He plans to heal them, touch them and love them... and he doesn't plan to let them go.
Can three very different men find love and healing in each other's arms?
Excerpt:
The Pridelands 6: Achan's Peace
Jade Buchanan
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Jade Buchanan

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The human stood over him, his rank stench nearly enough to make Achan sick. He didn't know what they wanted to do to him, but he realized how desperate they were at this point. He was almost out of hope. He wanted so badly for his family to rescue him but he despaired that they would ever find him.
This was all his fault. He shouldn't have wandered off. What was going to happen to him? Why hadn't his brothers found him yet? Where were they?
He was lying on a bed, covered in tiny white flowers. He didn't know what they were but the very presence of them was making him crazy. He couldn't move because of the ropes holding him down, but every brush of air against his inflamed skin made him wish he could roll over and fuck anything he could find. What was wrong with him?
One of the humans -- Hunter -- crouched beside him, holding his own head against another brutal punch from his brother. Tears dripped from his eyes, the one swollen painfully. Blood coated his split lip and covered his chin.
Achan didn't understand it. Why would siblings ever treat each other with anything less than respect? Especially Hunter. He'd been so kind to Achan, even when he still thought he was an animal. Achan just needed to be careful, like Hunter told him. He couldn't give away that he wasn't exactly as animalistic as the rest of the humans assumed. Hunter had told him that the rest would treat him even worse if they realized he could talk and understand everything they were saying, but Achan didn't know how long he could stand this before he cracked.
His head was so fuzzy, he couldn't hold on to a single thought for more than a moment. He needed to get his senses back. It was going to become dangerous if he couldn't pay attention. He couldn't afford to mess something up.
Shouts sounded behind the closed doors, followed by a sharp, snapping sound that had Achan's heart pounding.
He knew that roar. Khalid. His brother was here. His brother was here to rescue him!
The door slammed open, a lithe figure throwing himself inside. Pran righted himself and snarled, baring his fangs, his snapping roar filling the room. Wait, what was Pran doing here? He shouldn't be here since he hadn't come to Earth with them. Was he dreaming?
"Stay away! I'll kill him! I swear it! Stay away!" The human grabbed a knife, holding it to Achan's throat.
Achan was too insensate to move, though he knew how dangerous this moment was. The human was crazy. But no, it had to be a dream. Pran wasn't here in real life so the knife didn't exist either. The Tigris was supposed to be back on Himalay. Even if he wasn't, there was no way Pran would be here as a rescue party. He hated Khalid and everyone related to him.
Pran waited, keeping his gaze on the knife. Achan tensed, unable to move more than a bare inch. His whole body felt weak.
"Zach, stop this now. Let him go! Just let him go," Hunter screamed.
It worked as a distraction. The human's attention switched for a brief moment, just enough time for Pran to move. He thrust forward, grasping the man's knife hand. They grappled briefly for the weapon but Pran prevailed. He grabbed it, twisted it, stabbed it into that soft belly and pulled up hard.
Death stared out from the human's gaze before he slumped to the ground with a gurgle. Achan whimpered.
Khalid was suddenly at his back, grabbing for Achan, releasing him from his bindings and pulling him into his arms.
His brother was here. It was going to be okay. Everything would be okay. Khalid would save him.
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