Saturday, December 31, 2011

Love Reversed by Zenobia Renquist

Love Reversed
by Zenobia Renquist

Cover art: Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-747-5
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense
Theme(s): Interracial/MultiCultural, Magic
Length: Novella
Page Count: 65

Cinnamon came to the Hawaii celebrity retreat to meet her favorite actress. Calhoun crashed to find answers about his missing uncle. Neither of them signed on for the part of the tour that included body swapping. They have to find a way to switch back without anyone realizing their predicament. Long nights of searching for answers become even longer when curiosity takes over. It's a once in a lifetime chance to see how the other half loves, and they don't plan to let it slip away.
Love Reversed
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Zenobia Renquist

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.

Cinnamon spotted Calhoun walking away from the outdoor banquet back toward the hotel. He must have forgotten something in his room. The man didn't act like he wanted to be at the retreat even though he had paid a lot of money to get a room at the overbooked hotel hosting it. He showed no interest in the people or the events, and actually seemed annoyed to be there.
So why come? It made no sense.
Normally something like that wouldn't bug her but he drew her eye. It had to be the full sleeve of tattoos that covered his right arm from his wrist all the way up the back of his bald scalp.
Beautiful art, no matter where it was located, always caught her eye. Calhoun's sepia-colored tattoos had clean, sharp lines defining each of the religious symbols -- Ancient Egyptian scarabs, Chinese dragons, Celtic runes, and so on. She could only guess he wanted to cover all the bases.
She would love to meet his tattoo artist just in case she ever got up the nerve to actually get ink of her own. The pain didn't deter her. She just didn't know what she wanted or where she wanted it. That had to mean she wasn't ready to get one.
Asking about tattoos and artists would have to wait. She had another reason to seek out Calhoun, so she followed him to the back of the hotel near the delivery and loading area. While she didn't want to miss the rest of the dinner, she did want her bracelet back. Calhoun had said he could fix it easily. His wandering around had to mean it was finished. If not, she would rather he simply return it so she could get it fixed somewhere else.
Calhoun entered a glass door that had Employees Only embossed on it in big, bold lettering. He wasn't an employee. He had arrived on Hawaii the same day she had. That's how he ended up with her bracelet. It snagged on his suitcase at the baggage claim carousel while she tried to retrieve her own bag. The result -- a broken bracelet clasp.
The door slammed shut behind him, and Cinnamon waited. He would come out any second after he realized his mistake... if it was a mistake. Though she couldn't reason why it wouldn't be a mistake. Maybe he'd gone in search of a restroom, which meant he would exit any minute.
She watched the door, but Calhoun didn't exit. While the cool night breeze felt good against her legs, she couldn't stand there forever, waiting for him. When a big cheer sounded from the area where the banquet was taking place, Cinnamon glanced in that direction then looked back at the door. Still no Calhoun.
Well, whatever he was doing in there was none of her business. She turned and headed back to the banquet. She had paid a lot of money to get to Hawaii so she could visit with Dannah Ridge, a legendary black actress who had been Cinnamon's idol from the moment she laid eyes on the woman. Some people even said Cinnamon looked like a younger Dannah, except Cinnamon's breasts were bigger, and her cheeks sported dimples instead of a beauty mark.
A rustling sound drew her attention back to the employees' entrance. Two men carrying a wriggling, writhing duffel bag between them went through the same door.
Cinnamon frowned. Maybe it was paranoia talking, but that bag had looked a lot like a person struggling to get out. She shook her head, dismissing her silly ideas. Too many cop dramas had her seeing crimes where there were none. Except... she couldn't stop staring at the door.
Had the men run into Calhoun and attacked him for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or maybe Calhoun was meeting them. He had crashed the party. If not for Dannah's fellow actor and long time paramour Flint East, Calhoun would have never gotten a room at the hotel because they were booked solid for the all-star retreat -- an event featuring actors of old and their adoring fans.
Did that mean Calhoun had crashed to do something shady? And maybe Flint East was helping him and that was how a room had miraculously become available?
Cinnamon found herself walking toward the door. Despite Calhoun's rough exterior and gruff attitude, she couldn't see him as the type who would harm someone without just cause. Her instincts about people were usually right.
As she reached for the doorknob, she muttered, "This is the part in the horror movie when the audience writes off the woman as TSTL for not minding her own business and then laughs when her stupidity gets her killed."
Thankfully, her life wasn't a movie, especially not a horror movie. She still hoped her nosy nature didn't get her into trouble.
She slipped past the door quickly, throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one had followed her or raised an alarm. Everything remained quiet. She looked for clues to Calhoun's whereabouts. The door led to a long corridor with doors at odd intervals. Cinnamon didn't plan to check the doors in case people were behind them that might object to her being there. She did peek into the few rooms with open doors.
If Calhoun and those mystery men with the duffel bag were there, they were hiding. She shrugged and chalked it up to a loss. Calhoun had to come out some time. She would get her bracelet back from him then.
Someone grabbed her from behind, clapped their hand over her mouth, and pulled her back into the shadows against a solid chest. She prepared to employ every technique she had learned in self-defense class.
"Next time you want to sneak up on me, try wearing less perfume, Cinnamon." Calhoun whispered those words so close to her ear that his hot breath feathered across her cheek. "What are you doing here?"
She pulled his hand down and whispered back, "What about you? I doubt you're an employee. And what happened to those two guys with the duffel bag?"
"Saw them, did you?"
"Yes. They came in right after --"
Calhoun put his hand back over her mouth and backed up farther into the room. Cinnamon didn't understand why until two more men with another writhing duffel bag walked past.
She waited for the sounds of their footsteps to fade before she pulled Calhoun's hand down once more and whispered, "Tell me those guys aren't carrying what I think they're carrying."
"What do you think they're carrying?" Again Calhoun spoke with his mouth close to her ear. His rumbling voice sent shivers up her spine whose cause she would contemplate when she wasn't in a potentially dangerous situation.
"A person trying to get out."
"Beauty and brains. Perceptive women like you are dangerous."

Friday, December 30, 2011

Best Man by Willa Okati

Best Man
by Willa Okati

Cover art: Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-751-2
Genre(s): Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary)
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella
Page Count: 49

Alexander's a man with an uncommonly happy disposition. His luck always holds true, and he takes chances with cheerful abandon. When he sees a New Year's Eve wedding running amok and a hot best man in need of help before Bridezilla goes boom, it's second nature for him to step in to lend a hand with the last-minute disasters that plague every wedding. The way Alexander sees it, he's earning good karma, winning over the adorable best man -- and he might just already be falling in love.
Best Man
Willa Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Willa Okati

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

"What's life without dreams? Without hope? Call me a cock-eyed optimist, but I believe that no opportunity isn't worth taking."
"Because they always work out for you."
"I'll share my luck, if you want." Alexander cupped his hand and blew a puff of winter smoke at Shawn. "There. You're set. And, Mother? No bursting anyone's bubbles."
"It's a nice thought, Alexander, but I can't even keep a plant alive. I killed a cactus by forgetting to water it. How does someone even begin to kill a cactus?" Shawn muttered.
"That does take skill," Josephine admitted. She patted Shawn's back with one small, gloved hand. "Perennial optimism is neither better nor worse than persistent pessimism. The right one for both of you is right around the bend. Six marriages, remember? I got it wrong so many times that karma decrees you'll both get it right. Now, do hurry, would you? I will not be denied a ninety-proof holiday espresso martini."
"Hold on a minute." The noise began to clarify itself as they drew closer to the Imperial Center. Alexander stopped them. "Do you hear that?"
"I can hardly help it, though I was happy to distract myself with my gentleman escorts' conversation, but what is that commotion?" Josephine shaded her eyes to peek. "Good Lord, is that a wedding?"
Alexander tilted his head to get a better look and a listen. "I think so."
"In this weather?" Shawn nudged at a fallen chunk of icy snow. "Are they out of their minds?"
"Darling, a bride's likely involved. Insanity is a given."
Where Shawn looked dubious, Alexander's intrigue only grew. He made sure Shawn held Josephine safe and secure and took half a dozen strides forward, drinking in the details. Bunting everywhere, a caterer's van well and truly stuck in the snow, and loud, loud, loud screeching emanating from within the Imperial Center.
"Who even holds a wedding on a holiday?"
"Someone who doesn't think ahead?" Shawn suggested.
Alexander laughed. He'd seen this movie. "Bridezilla."
Josephine pointed to a harried-looking string quartet trudging through a half-broken path through the snow, identifiable only by their attempts to lug instrument cases and speakers.
Alexander would have offered to help, but there was something about the grim white lines on the faces of the quartet that told him that'd be rushing in where angels feared to tread.
"Assuredly a Bridezilla," Josephine agreed. "And one without a morsel of common sense. Do you know how long it takes to plan a wedding of this extravagance? As you've kindly pointed out, I've been there and done that, and trust me. It takes well over a year. Even if we were still enjoying a white-out storm, they'd be digging out a path for an aisle the bride could walk up."
The shrieking from within reached a pitch almost in the range that only dogs could hear. Alexander winced.
Josephine laughed. "Never actually been in the presence of a Bridezilla before, have you?"
"If that's one of them, I think I'm glad I'm gay," Shawn said.
Alexander poked him. "Civil unions, brother, and the laws are changing. One day you'll find yourself having a panic attack over lobster canapes going bad."
"Probably. I think the one screaming just now was the groom."
Josephine's shoulders shook with amusement. "Well. When all's said and done, weddings do have one thing going for them."
"Such as?"
"Slutty groomsmen?" Alexander asked, perking up.
"If a guy's lucky," Shawn agreed. "Wait, look who I'm talking to. But are they worth it?"
"I have an uncommonly happy disposition." Alexander shot his sleeves straight and stood to his fullest height, shoulders squared at their broadest. "And sure, mostly."
"Not that we'll be finding out today. Lunch awaits," Josephine said firmly.
"Of course. I --"
Alexander ceased speaking or moving. Breathing might or might not become optional.
He became vaguely aware of Josephine tapping her foot. "Darling, follow-through is a virtue." She cleared her throat. "Alexander?"
Shawn snapped his fingers by Alexander's ear.
He heard both of them. He just wasn't paying attention. Because Alexander had seen him.
He being a man of slim build, slender at the hips and satisfyingly just broad enough at the shoulders to make his masculinity clear; a good and necessary thing for a man as beautiful as he with his red lips, formerly styled and now epically mussed black waves of hair, and blue eyes now raised to the heavens in a silent why me?
Alexander dropped his arm. "Then again, I might stick around. For a few. Take a rain check on the lunch?"
"You're going to crash the wedding?"
"Yes and no," Alexander said. The beautiful man had boxes upon boxes labeled WEDDING yet to unpack. "Wait and see."
Shawn shook his head but let him go. "You're not quite right. You know that, don't you?"
* * *
If a man acted as if he belonged in any given place, people usually didn't ask questions. Alexander took the steps at an easygoing pace and casually strolled to the lovely man's side. "Need a hand?"
"I could use three, to be honest." Pretty eased a double stack of linen napery on a bare table and stretched his arms, pulling each at the wrists to release the cramped muscles. Alexander could massage those for him, but... later. "Do I know you?"
Beauty and brains. "Not in the least," Alexander replied, twinkling at him. "I was passing by and thought I'd see if Good Samaritans were still in style."
Pretty rubbed his arms as he gave Alexander a once-over of bemusement and perhaps a bit of appreciation. "At least you're honest. If you promise not to take off with a box of table favors or hit on one of the bridesmaids, then be my guest. I'm serious about the bridesmaids. I love my sister -- the bride -- but if one more thing sends her off the deep end --"
Alexander laughed. "Don't worry. About the bride or the bridesmaids." He winked. "They aren't what caught my eye."
"Is that a fact?" Pretty's cheeks turning faintly pink, and the appearance of a small smile gave him away. "That makes two of us."
"You're honest, too. And beautiful."
The pink darkened to crimson. "And you're a flatterer." That would have been worrisome if he hadn't grinned at him and pushed one-half of the napery Alexander's way. "If you're sure you want to get involved in the madness... then you can be my guest."
"You can trust me," Alexander said, ripe with confidence. "Watch." He took the top cloth off the stack and gave it a good snap, meant to send a long cloth billowing out.
It would have been more impressive if said cloth hadn't turned out to be a dinner napkin.
Pretty burst into laughter. "I have to keep you now. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I turned you out to wreak havoc on general society." His cheeks remained pink and his blue eyes lambent. He offered his hand. "Noah McMasters. Call me Noah."
Alexander took Noah's hand. A very nice hand it was, too, slim and smooth but firm. "Alexander."
A hint of dimples enriched Noah's smile. "Just Alexander?"
"I have a surname, but I'll make you work for that one." Alexander winked at Noah -- the name fit him as well as a tailored glove, small and lovely -- and draped the napkin over his arm. He clicked his heels together and bowed from the waist. "Right now, I await your command. Tell me what you want from me and I'm yours."

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Wolf Tracker by Cynthia Sax

Wolf Tracker
by Cynthia Sax

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-690-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Wildest West
Theme(s): Werewolves, Shapeshifters, Men and Women in Uniform, Alternative Universe
Series: Wolves of the Wild West
Length: Novella
Page Count: 38

Trace has hunted the deadliest outlaws in the Wild West, but that tracking ain't nothing compared to the dangers of courting his werewolf sweetheart, Harriet. He wrangles a deal with her brother, the alpha of her pack. Trace will wait for a year to ask Harriet to marry him, and the alpha will give them the pack's blessing.
When a rival werewolf pack takes Harriet, Trace reckons he'll do his courting with a six-shooter and a fistful of silver bullets. 'Cause no one touches Trace's woman and lives.
Wolf Tracker
Cynthia Sax
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Cynthia Sax

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.

Harriet was being hunted.
She crept between the rock facings, in wolf form, dragging her tail in the red dirt. Erasing her paw prints merely delayed their confrontation.
Trace would find her. He was the best tracker in the territory.
And when he did... She wiggled her rump.
Her nostrils twitched. His scent flavored the night breeze with musk and arousal. Trace was gaining on her. Harriet dashed along the trail, moving faster and faster until her muscles ached and she panted, her tongue hanging out of her open mouth.
Boot-covered feet smacked stone. As he normally moved as silently as any shifter, the noise was a deliberate declaration of intent. He would catch her. Soon.
The path straightened, and her withers quivered with awareness. He was close enough to see her, the full moon lighting the ground, coloring the rocks gray and blue.
She shifted as she ran, her fur becoming bare flesh and her front paws becoming human hands. Trace inhaled sharply, and she smiled, smelling his frustration -- the aroma raw and poignant and exciting.
He wanted her, and despite the hurt he would soon inflict upon her, she wanted him too, her pussy moistening and her nipples tightening in anticipation. The trail widened, revealing a suitable spot for their confrontation.
Harriet stopped, glancing around her, and she backed into a recess in the rock wall, her bare ass pressed against cool stone. There she waited, hiding in the shadows.
Trace stepped into the open area, his broad shoulders blocking the moonlight, and Harriet froze, her gaze fixed on his muscular form. Her human lover exemplified all that was wild and primitive and fierce. Buckskin clung to his body, and his long, brown hair hung loose down his back. He had arrived for their rendezvous armed: a knife strapped to his narrow hips, and a rifle clutched in his big hands.
He raised his chin, displaying a profile consisting of angles and strength, and Harriet's fingers twitched, the compulsion to stroke his high, proud cheekbones nearly overwhelming her sense of self-preservation. He sniffed, his nostrils flaring.
Did he smell her warm, wet pussy? Harriet's breath hitched -- the sound obscenely loud.
His head turned. Silver glinted in his smoke-gray eyes while his grim lips curled into a smug smile. Without looking away, he propped the rifle against the wall of rock.
He had spotted her.
Harriet pushed away from the stone, launching her body into the air. She bounced off a solid wall of chest. Large, tanned hands slapped flat against the rocks, trapping her face between them, the tracker's muscular arms creating a cage around her.
"Got you." Trace's deep voice rumbled through the cool night air. Heat rose off his body, seductively reaching out toward her.
She licked her bottom lip, and his gaze followed the nervous sweep of her tongue, his face darkening ominously. "And what will you do with me?" Harriet feigned bravery. She tilted her face upward. His breath fanned her skin, caressing her eyelashes.
He leaned into her, his buckskin shirt brushing against her nipples. "This." His mouth dipped to cover hers, his lips firm and possessing as he claimed his prize. She opened to his questing tongue, allowing him to explore her softness, and he blazed a trail of fire and desire, mapping her soul with the tip of his tongue.
"Trace." Harriet moaned, reaching up to encircle his neck with her arms, holding his huge physique to her smaller form. Trace slid his callused palms around to the small of her back, his fingers resting on her spine, as they kissed like they'd never kissed before, and might never kiss again, his surges into her synchronizing to the pounding of her heart.
"She-wolf." He pulled back from her, lightning bolts of passion shooting across his stormy eyes, and Harriet took a tentative step forward, blindly following him, her bare soles connecting with cool rock.
"You tracked me." She gazed up at him.
Trace loosened the laces at his neck and tugged his buckskin shirt over his head, the action tousling his long hair and revealing a chest covered with smooth, tanned skin and ridged with muscles.
"Hunted me." Harriet examined him from under her partially lowered eyelids, want settling low in her womb.
"Yeah." Trace kicked off his worn, leather boots and removed his breeches, his legs corded with toned flesh and his cock jutting out from a base covered with brown curls. "Always."
He stood in front of her, proudly naked except for the knife strapped to his hip, and Harriet ran her hands over his pecs, circling his flat, male nipples with her fingertips, marveling that he was hers, this marvelous human male.
"Always?" It was a lie, as he was only hers for the moment. Others made demands on his time.
"Yeah." Trace wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her forward, crushing her to his hard body, driving her head back with the force of his kiss. "I need you, wolf."

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

White Hot Christmas: Santa's Claws by Stephanie Burke

White Hot Christmas: Santa's Claws
by Stephanie Burke

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-748-2
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: White Hot Christmas
Length: Hot Flash

Santa's making a list, checking it twice, and keeping all the other holidays in check. But when an upstart Valentine's Day out for revenge infects one of Santa's precious Think Tank Elves with a true soul mate, the claws come out. Now he's going to see to it that his Elf and the naughty human to whom he's bound have a very Merry Khristmas... or else.
White Hot Christmas: Santa's Claws
Stephanie Burke
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Stephanie Burke

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.

Noel looked around at the wreck of her apartment and added another tick to her mental column, Why I hate Christmas.
In addition to having family drop by, expecting her to cook all kinds of holiday treats, there was the added bonus of having them suck down all her booze in moments, making her house drier than a schoolteacher during Prohibition.
And for what? For them to tell her things would get better? That she was lucky to have her shitty job as a code monkey? That all she needed was the love of a good man, woman, pet, plant, inanimate battery operated device -- insert the one that works for you, hon -- in her life?
She slammed another empty container of potato salad -- the potato salad she'd made herself to supplement her lunch of holiday ham sandwiches -- into the trash and tried not to scream. The spiral cut ham North Pole Industries had given its employees in lieu of a Christmas bonus this year -- cheap bastards -- was gone too. Now she'd have to go shopping for sandwich fodder.
Last time she'd been forced to shop on the twenty-fourth, she'd gotten elbowed in the eye by a new wife frantic for candied yams. The final straw had been getting elbowed by a granny with a fierce walking stick over a bag of marshmallows. "I need this for hot cocoa after fireplace sex!" she'd ranted, brandishing the cane. Noel conceded on that point, but she did make off with a pizza and felt no guilt for it.
And now she was going to be forced to go back into the cold night to hunt down food. No one would be open on Christmas Day, and she had to be at work on time on the twenty-sixth or she'd risk losing her holiday pay.
"Ho-fucking-ho," she muttered, reaching for her coat. She checked her pocket for mace and her brass knuckles along with her wallet. This year, she was going in prepared.
She opened her door and flinched at the sound of annoyingly cheerful jingle bells.
"Someone needs to turn that stupid music down," she muttered, picking up her garbage bag and stepping out of her apartment. They'd been forcing her to listen to holiday cheer since before Halloween. By now she was right tired of all Christmas music, from "The Christmas Song" to "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth."
Hell, all she wanted for Christmas was for it to go away.
She had just turned to lock her door when a blast of cold made her spin around. Noel's mouth dropped open when she got a gander at what was going on in her hallway. It was snowing.
Yes, there was a light dry snow falling, coating the carpet, killing the inside fichus, and just being so wrong that it shocked her into silence. Her keys dropped to the snowdrift building in front of her door.
It was snowing in her hallway, and that just wasn't supposed to happen.
"What the --" Her words were cut off as a gust of wind knocked her off her feet, and something hard landed on top of her.
By the time she blinked the snow out of her eyes, she was more than ready to call it a night, with or without food. But the thing on her chest shifted, and she looked up to see the most intense pair of black eyes she had ever seen.
They blinked at her, looking as confused as she felt, and she looked down to take the whole of him in.
God, he was gorgeous. His hair was a tousled mass of dark curls. His face was narrow with a strong jaw line and a stubborn chin over which sat the most enticing set of full, red lips. They made her think of oral sex and hours of kissing fun. He wore a velvet jacket that did nothing to hide his muscular body.
He rose up enough to rake the hair back from his face, exposing a set of ears that would have made most Star Trek fans green with envy. Noel felt her eyes go wide as the damn ears wiggled. And not in a mechanical, costumed way either. She knew what robotic motions looked like. These ears moved naturally. No costumer in the world could perfectly duplicate that reflex motion or the flush of red that flowed from his face to the tips of his ears.
"Hello." His voice was deep and mellow, curiously gentle and soothing to her wound-tight nerves.
"Uh, hello?" she responded in a squeak. Certain body parts grew swollen and moist.
"Yes, hello," he repeated, his voice oddly accented. "How are you?"
The word wanton rolled through her mind, but she repressed the urge to be that honest. "Fine," she replied, noting the oddity of having a conversation with a man practically sitting on your crotch, but carrying on anyway. "And yourself?"
"I am wonderful." He smiled fully, and Noel no longer felt the cold of the snow she was lying on. Lust had set up camp and wasn't going anywhere soon.
"So..." She fought back a giggle. A giggle! She hadn't giggled since mullets were cool. And mullets had never been cool in her book. But here she was, acting like a schoolgirl speaking to her crush for the first time. Never mind the fact that the man was a perfect stranger with ear disabilities, she wasn't knocking him off her lap and running for the hills. Something was not quite right.
"So..." He let the word trail off. "Ever have sex with an Elf?"

Sunday, December 25, 2011

No Way Out Collection by Elayne S Venton

No Way Out (Collection)
by Elayne S. Venton

Cover art: Angela Knight
ISBN: 978-1-60521-682-9
Genre(s): Action Adventure/ Suspense, Sci-Fi, BDSM
Theme(s): Bisexual and More
Series: No Way Out
Length: Collection
Page Count: 201

When a team of Earth scientists is stranded on the planet Alishon, they're attacked and separated from each other. Only three will survive...
No Way Home: Botanist Kelly Hatchett. Saved from the predators, claimed and detained by her rescuer, Rye. Now he refuses to let her go. Even though she submits to him, Kelly swears she will find a way home.
No Way Back: Trapped underground with an alien male, forced to rely on one another for survival, Jake Santos is drawn to Drum in ways he never imagined. He fights his desire because once he surrenders, there's no way back.
No Way Around It: Lead scientist Vonna King is captured and sold to a man with a wicked reputation. But there's more to Yale than his dark sexual preferences. Drawn in by the two facets of his personality, Vonna must face her own secret desires.
No Way Out (Collection)
Elayne S. Venton
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Elayne S. Venton
Excerpt from No Way Home

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 scream reverberated inside Kelly Hatchett's earpiece and rattled down her spine. She dropped the vegetation samples she'd been collecting to take back to Earth and sprinted across the grassy plain toward the shuttle pod.
The faster she ran, the better her chances of survival. The four-legged behemoths that roamed this planet didn't move swiftly, but the pair of tentacles extending from their wide heads stretched vast distances. If one grabbed her...
Please, whatever deity there might be in the universe, don't let me die. There's so much more I want to do with my life -- find a special mate, earn a Distinguished Scientist rank, motherhood, a screaming orgasm!
Mentally, she smacked her head. When was the last time she'd had fun? She should've spent more time laughing with friends, and sought out more lovers. When her sister had invited her on an orgy cruise around Mars, she should've shaken off her unease and gone along. At least she would've been able to recall one audacious thing she'd done in her life.
The muscles in her legs burned as she pushed her body to the limit.
From the other side of the shuttle pod, two grayish-brown tentacles as thick as space-sail masts wrapped around the transport and tossed it sideways across the grassy moor. Kelly jerked to a halt, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. The other four scientists running in a semi-circle toward what they thought was safety looked as horrified as she felt. They all froze in place and watched their ride back to the orbiting cruiser explode in a fiery ball.
Shock immobilized her until the colossal beast trudged toward the two closest scientists. Armed with only short-range laser pistols, the team fired haphazardly at it, but the shots seemed to irritate rather than harm. The thick feelers flicked as if swatting a fly.
"Concentrate your shots!" the team leader shouted to the group, but Kelly turned with the others and bolted from the terrifying creature. The ground shook as the creature gained on them. One of its plodding steps equaled a twenty-yard dash for the team. Panic pushed her forward.
In her peripheral vision, Kelly watched tentacles coil around two of her screaming associates, pick them up and draw them backward toward massive snapping jaws. She slid her gaze away, unwilling to watch their fate. A loud crunch and the sudden quiet made her stomach churn.
The beast bellowed behind her, its long feelers whipping through the air searching for more prey. Her lungs expanded and contracted so fast she sucked up her auxiliary oxygen through her nose mask at an alarming rate. She stopped looking back over her shoulder. It didn't help.
She was going to die.
A loud whoosh streamed by overhead. What the hell was that? A resounding thud shook the ground so hard she stumbled. Holy stars! Was the cruiser firing down here? Before they'd left the ship, the captain had made it clear if they encountered hostiles, he wouldn't break the galaxy peace agreement to save a group of expendable scientists. She'd believed him. Besides, the trajectory had traveled horizontally.
Whatever it was, she didn't want to get hit by it. Running any faster seemed impossible but fear spurred her on, veering her toward a patch of shoulder-high grasses where she might hide. Long thin blades sliced her arms as she lunged through the tall brush.
A band of speckled brown flesh snaked around her ribs. Oh God. Oh God! "Heeeelp!" she screamed as her feet lifted off the ground.
Eyes scrunched tight, Kelly wasn't prepared for the sudden body slam to the ground. Pain shot down her spine all the way to her toes.
A heavy weight pressed down on her belly, holding her flat in a nest of crushed grass. She held her breath, waiting for sharp teeth to rip into her. And waited...
Unable to stand the suspense, she popped an eye open and slowly lifted her head.
The world around her blurred and tilted.
A male anthropoid wearing a loincloth sat on her stomach. Sunlight glinted off his skin, smooth and brown-speckled like polished granite, highlighting his ripped abs and muscular thighs. He looked surprisingly human, handsome in a rough sense. Long sable hair fell over wide shoulders, drawing her gaze to the patchwork of pale scars on his brawny chest. He was a fighter. A survivor.
Curiosity shone in his golden brown eyes as he regarded her.
She grunted and bucked against the big male holding her down. What was he doing? They had to run!
He lifted his heavy weight off her, but immediately resettled over her with his knees on either side of her hips, calm as can be.
It suddenly hit her that the ground had stopped trembling. A horrid stench filled the air. The creature --
He must have killed it.
Pent-up breath rushed from her lungs in a loud whoosh. She was safe! Amid her tremendous relief, she let out a joyful squeak and squeezed the stranger's impressive biceps. "Thank you!" She wanted to curl upward and give him a big hug, but the stern expression on his face stopped her.
"Shapitwa," the male said, pushing her back to the ground. His eyes looked hard, demanding. He glanced over his shoulder at a path tramped through the dense grassland. When he turned back, he put a finger to his lips and made motions telling her to lie still. "Shapitwa," he breathed softly.
The warrior tilted his head, listening. Kelly strained to hear footsteps, snarls, whispers, anything that might indicate danger, but all she heard was the wind sifting through the grass. She watched the alien relax his broad shoulders. The gleam in his eyes made him look downright smug.
Well, killing a ferocious beast ten times your size must make one proud.
He rambled in his native language, his tone full of himself. Great. Why was she always attracted to the good-looking, arrogant types?
She shook her head and reached for the translator module strapped to her belt.
He grabbed her wrists and slowly drew her arms over her head. Bending over her, brushing her breasts with his chest, he whispered again, "Shapitwa."

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Paranormal Mates Society III by Ann Jacobs, Kira Stone, Cat Marsters, Amelia Elias and Isabella Jordan

Paranormal Mates Society Vol. III (Collection)
by Ann Jacobs, Isabella Jordan, Kira Stone, Cat Marsters and Amelia Elias

Cover art: Bryan Keller and Karen Fox and Fabiano Fabris
ISBN: 978-1-60521-685-0
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Shapeshifters
Series: Paranormal Mates Society Multi-Author
Length: Collection
Page Count: 281

A god tries to keep from putting the man of his dreams to sleep, a vampire Dom handles two sexy subs, a satyr plays a practical joke on the God of War and the Fury of Disasters, the site administrator's sex life heats up thanks to a sexy satyr, and a woman posing as a witch finds love with a werewolf can truly be -- it's Satan's own online dating service, and chaos has never been quite this hot!
This anthology contains the previously released Paranormal Mates Society novellas Insomnia, O Positive, Loving Fury, Playing with Matches, and The Midnight Hour. These titles are all available as individual e-book releases. This collection is also available in print!
Paranormal Mates Society Vol. III (Collection)
All rights reserved.
Excerpt from Loving Fury
Copyright ©2011 Amelia Elias

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.
"Hey," he murmured, cupping my face in his hands. "Thera, talk to me. What's going on?"
I tried to bat his hands away. They stayed put, stubbornly unbattable. Finally I gave in to the inevitable and glared at him, not hiding the moisture on my cheeks. "There, are you happy now?" I snapped. "Want to make fun of me a little more? Maybe this will solidify your reputation as the Bad-Ass of Olympus—the Great Ares, the god who made a Fury cry. That'd be perfect for you, wouldn't it?"
"Shit," he whispered, but he didn't release me. His hands slid down to my shoulders, holding them in a gentle grip that was still unbreakable. "Thera, I -- damn, I'm sorry. I thought... well, I mean, I assumed...”
"I know what you assumed," I said, trying to get hold of myself and failing miserably. The tears were falling in a steady rain now. "You assumed what everyone else does -- Furies don't have feelings. We don't think of anything but destruction, don't want anything but blood, don't value anything but suffering. Well, guess what? You and everyone else forget one little fact -- I'm a goddess, same as any other! Does Athena think only of collecting more wisdom? Does Artemis hunt all the time, forsaking everything else? Does Aphrodite spend her every waking moment screwing?"
Ares was looking at me like he'd never seen me before -- and I suppose he hadn't. "With Aphrodite, it's close," he said, but he didn't smile. "I'm sor --"
"Yeah, you're sorry, everyone's sorry, big fucking deal," I interrupted, again trying to escape his grasp and again failing. "At least you've done one thing for me -- I won't waste any more time trying to be something no one will let me be. Damn it, Ares, will you let me go already?"
He shook his head. "Not until you let me apologize properly," he said, and when I took a breath to yell at him some more, he stopped my mouth with his own.
I froze. His lips were firm, his tongue teasing; he tasted of the sweet dessert wine and a hint of spice, and I didn't have a clue what to do with him when he was kissing me. He nipped my lip, surprising a gasp from me and making me aware for the first time that I wasn't breathing. I jerked my head away as if waking from a dream.
"What do you think you're doing?" I snapped, trying for outraged and only achieving breathless.
"Apologizing," he murmured as he scattered little kisses over my jaw.
"I don't need a pity-fuck in an elevator to make me feel better," I growled, and tried to shut up every neglected part of my body that was screaming for me to take it back, that pity-fucks were just fine and they'd like one or two of them right now.
He nuzzled my earlobe, which immediately joined the chorus of body parts clamoring for a good fucking, pity-induced or otherwise. "Too bad," he whispered. He caught my hand and pressed it to the front of his slacks, molding my palm against the rigid length behind his zipper. "What about one to make me feel better?"
Yes! my body screamed. I told it to shut up and tried not to notice the thickness of his cock under my hand, the warm, hard size of it. I failed utterly. "Get off me!"
"No," he said, and this time when he kissed me, he was serious about it.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Wolf Mates Collection by Dakota Cassidy

Wolf Mates (Collection)
by Dakota Cassidy

Cover art: Sahara Kelly
ISBN: 978-1-60521-686-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense, Humor & Satire
Theme(s): Werewolves, Shapeshifters
Series: Wolf Mates
Length: Collection
Page Count: 347


Derrick Adams is not happy. His pack of werewolves isn't like all the others...
Derrick's brother Max found his lifemate in the pound, he has a cousin who's a vegetarian, and Xavier Wolf comes from a pride, instead of a pack. Lassiter Adams isn't exactly what he seems, either. Neither is his parakeet!
Now Derrick has a lifemate of his own -- and she isn't barking. You'll laugh, you'll sigh, and you'll need a fan, because these stories are exceptionally hot!
This collection contains the previously released novellas An American Werewolf in Hoboken, What's New Pussycat?, Moon Over Manhasset, and Ruff & Ready. This collection is also available in print!
Wolf Mates (Collection)
Dakota Cassidy
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Dakota Cassidy
Excerpt from What's New Pussycat?

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.


"Do you see?" Derrick Adams hollered as he held up the cat carrier, thrusting it in his brother Max's face. A black paw, claws unleashed, reached out to swipe at Max's face. Max reached his finger into the carrier's front. "Hey, kitty..." he cooed, making an irritating clicking noise with his tongue.

The paw reached out again, unsheathing its claws once more, and the cat carrier hissed. Max jumped back as the cage rocked in Derrick's hands.

Tell me, foolish one, what makes humans believe that we kitties enjoy a finger shoved in our faces? Bring it here, boy-toy. Lemme show you what pretty teeth I have...

Mortals were so unbelievably stupid, especially male mortals. Even if they were good looking, Martine Brooks thought. She felt the hair on her back lift in irritation as the silly human tried again to soothe her with a finger that might result in a bloody stump if he didn't back off.

He stuck his handsome face in the opening of the cage and purred at her. Martine yawned.

If only you knew how desperately stupid you look. Max, is it?

However, in order to keep from blowing her cover, Martine had to play the game. She'd yet to figure out what she was undercover for, but whatever. She only knew she shouldn't shift and she sensed that, even if she didn't know the reasons why. It did, however, mean something was preventing her. Be it intuition or premonition, she just knew her best bet was to remain in her cat form. At least for now until she could figure out what in all of creation she was doing here. Martine prepared for a good howl, thus indicating that the pretty boys should go away and leave her the hell alone while she waited to be set free and get some wide open space to shift in.

This time she got closer to the cage opening and howled for all she was worth into Max's face. As pitifully as her vocal cords would allow, just like she'd seen other cats do on Animal Planet.

"Maybe you should take her to your place and let her out of the cage, Derrick?" the pretty dark-haired girl said as she winced.

Well, duh. Very astute. A good stretch was just what she needed. She'd suffered as much indignity as one girl could handle in a lifetime.

The man named Derrick shook her cage. "Be quiet, would you! God," he complained, "she could wake the dead. So, Max, what do you intend to do about this?"

Max shook his head and slapped Derrick on the back. "Nothin' I can do, Derrick. Your prophecy is your prophecy. You know Eva's chicken soup."

Yes, it was good for the soul, wasn't it? What prophecy? Martine wondered.

Derrick held up the cage again. She really wished he'd stop rocking the damn thing. A hairball was bound to hurl from her throat at warp speed if he kept this up.

"This -- this -- is my prophecy?" Martine heard Derrick yell, disbelief lacing his tone. "How in all of the animal kingdom can this be my prophecy?"

Max shrugged his shoulders and the pretty dark-haired woman spoke again. "I didn't believe it either, Derrick, but who can say when you'll find love -- or with whom?"

Love? Um, no, no.

What was this, Mutual of Omaha? No love. Martine needed to get the hell out of this damn cage and shift so she could get the frig away from these people and their wing-nut prophecies. She believed in spells and stuff. No prophecies.

"Well, Derrick," Max said. "Guess what? She's all yours. Eva hasn't been wrong so far. Now go away. I have pups to make." The dark-haired woman giggled, rather flirty and stupid if you asked Martine.

But NO ONE was asking the cat.

"My lifemate is not a Goddamn cat!"

Whoa... stop right there, hot stuff. Lifemate? Did these people dig into the catnip or what? She didn't have a lifemate. Martine belonged to a warlock and had for many years now, cursed to spend the rest of her life at his beck and call. Oh, Escobar was just gonna love this. She was Escobar's familiar and he wasn't going to be too pleased about this little turn of events.

"Wolves do not mate with cats!" Derrick roared and shook the cage again for emphasis. Martine's stomach lurched.

Wolves? Like woof-woof? Full moons and carnivores?

That was it. Martine couldn't stop the roll of her stomach. She heaved a long moment and then coughed, opening her mouth wide.

"And now, it's gonna puke," Derrick said sarcastically.

Ick. Martine gagged and finally relieved her throat of the ball lodged in it since this lunatic had stuffed her into this cage.

How's that for ya? A round hairball lay at her feet.

Whew, that was better.

Unattractive, but better.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Fire and Ice Collection by Alecia Monaco

Fire and Ice (Collection)
by Alecia Monaco

Cover art: Zuri
ISBN: 978-1-60521-697-3
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Ménage, Vampires, Shapeshifters, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Length: Collection
Page Count: 157

Fae, vampires, a werewolf, an ice maiden, and a banshee collide in this collection of Celtic tales.
Cabin Fever: There's trouble brewing in the preternatural community of Snowfire, Alaska. The only way to stave off certain war is for the leaders of the weres, witches, and vampires to form a sexual triad. When these three hit the sheets, cabin fever is the last thing on their minds!
Ice Maiden: When Sebastian creates an ice sculpture, he makes an ice maiden whose frozen beauty surpasses his wildest dreams. He begins to wonder if the perfect woman might be a reality, after all. That is, if he can keep her from melting away when dawn falls...
King Jack's Ball: All Hallows Eve... destined to be yet another humdrum event among the Court of the Dark Sidhe, until a whisper of magic touches the party goers. Can a spell cast by the legendary pumpkin king evoke sizzling passion between a blood fey and a Sidhe princess?
Kiss of the Fairy: Siobhan, the Irish Love Fairy, makes matches for Irish people everywhere. When Patrick O'Neil turns out to be matchless, Siobhan must assume human form and find out why Patrick seems destined to be single. There's more to the story than she ever imagined...
Romancing the Banshee: Aisling is a banshee, one of the Celtic fairies in charge of sounding the death call for mortals. But the sexy mortal in question happens to be immune to Aisling's death call. The passion between them seems unavoidable. But who wants Declan dead -- and why?

Fire & Ice (Collection)
Alecia Monaco
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Alecia Monaco
Excerpt from Cabin Fever

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
"I take it you all understand why you're here." Torngasak stroked his long white beard with a frail hand.
Aurora Tabor gave the wizard a cautious glance before turning to the two men opposite her. The hungry expression in their eyes was enough to tell her everything she needed to know and more. "Yes." She nodded slowly. "I think we're all clear about our mission here."
"Good." Torngasak cleared his throat. "The preternatural community is counting on the three of you to form a triad tonight." The ancient wizard inclined his head toward Amal. "The full moon is only one night away, so your pack will be one day away from shifting." Torngasak's gaze moved slowly back to Aurora. "The timing is very important."
Isn't it always, Aurora thought, trying not to roll her eyes. As high priestess of the ice witches, it was her job to form an alliance with the local vampires and shifters.
Unfortunately, the only way to create a triad of power was through sex.
A three-way, to be more specific.
"You will all three be locked in this cabin until just before dawn." The wizard looked at his gold pocket watch. "That should give you plenty of time to complete your task." He glanced at the vampire across from him. "As you are a daywalker, there's no need to worry about exposing you to the sun?"
Ellis nodded his head. "Correct."
The wizard sighed. "Then I leave you three to your mission."
With a click of the lock, the wizard shut the door, trapping the three of them in the mountain cabin together for the night.

Monday, December 19, 2011

White Hot Christmas: Christmas Stalkings by Cassidy McKay

White Hot Christmas: Christmas Stalkings
by Cassidy McKay

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-740-6
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: White Hot Christmas
Length: Hot Flash

What's a Christmas Elf to do when he wants to sex up the North Pole a bit? Make adult toys, of course!
When Henry's Elven magic goes awry, Santa's workshop will never be the same.
White Hot Christmas: Christmas Stalkings
Cassidy McKay
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Cassidy McKay

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.

Henry peered out from behind a cup on Abby's bedroom dresser, one that held mismatched earrings and shiny rocks and all the girly do-dads she'd collected over the years.
A well-worn letter in a torn, hand-written envelope stuck out from underneath a gaily painted tray, shoved there as if hidden in a moment of frustration. Curious, Henry eased it out, pausing when the woman's light snore echoed from the bed. He read the short note in the light from the window.
Abby, it's over. I'll be spending Christmas with my new girlfriend.
Sorry for the short notice.

It was dated December 24th, two years ago.
"Damn, that was harsh. Merry fucking Christmas." Henry dropped the letter and looked around, enjoying his new tiny size and comparing his working parts, in true manly fashion, to objects around him. Unfortunately, having a large penis in comparison to a push pin wasn't very good for his ego, so he jumped down and zapped himself back to his normal size.
Looking for anything to indicate there was a man in her life; he checked the bathroom and the closet. After reading the letter, he suspected there probably wasn't, but better to be sure.
A dusty box of condoms and an abandoned container of birth control pills were the only evidence of a sex life he came up with, other than a well-read magazine full of muscled men in tiny thongs that didn't even cover their asses.
Curious. Human men were clearly built different than Elves. From what he could see, those thongs wouldn't hold anything big enough to keep a gnat happy, but to each their own. She seemed to like what she saw in the magazine, so that was good enough for him.
"She's even lonelier than I am. She can definitely use some of my purple Christmas magic. Making her happy should score well for me getting back to the North Pole."
He headed for the dining nook and did a big purple whammy on the socks. Surely the magic would work right this time. After all, he wasn't including the Pulsating Purple People Pleaser, or the Anatomically Correct but Politically Incorrect Mistress Matilda statue in this woman's Christmas stockings. Those both needed more work before they were ready to try out on the public again.
This, now... this was just a little innocent magic to help a lonely girl for Christmas. His special stocking stuffers would fulfill her every desire and she'd be happy again.
With his pinkie in his ear, a grab of his ass and an awkward double twirl to the right, he vanished from sight before the pedestrian whistling for a cab outside woke her.
* * *
Abby stumbled into the kitchen for a drink without bothering to turn the lights on. The ambient glow from the streetlight was usually enough for her to find her way. Yet tonight, the glow was absent.
Maybe it's cloudy outside.
She felt her way along the wall and crossed the dining room toward the kitchen, only to run into a solid wall where there shouldn't be one. Abby stuck out her hands, and felt... skin. Warm, solid, muscled, skin, dusted with hair.
Male skin.
She screamed, prompting another warm, solid, muscled male body to slide behind her, his hand gently covering her mouth. She was bracketed by them in an almost naked Abby sandwich.
No way, Jose! I've seen this kind of movie too many times. I'm not gonna end up on the wrong side of a slasher film with screeching music after letting some strangers feel me up.
The man in front of her framed her face with his hands as if he wanted to kiss her, so she placed her palms on either side of his waist as he drew near, pulling him just a little bit closer.
The guy in front of her went down with a whimper, her sharp knee right on target. She flung her head back toward the man behind her, hoping he was close enough and short enough for her skull to hit him in the face.
She was correct on both guesses, and the second man went down. Abby ran for her cell phone and the front door, dialing 9-1-1 as she fumbled with the locks.
The phone went dead. Dropping the useless thing, she undid four of the locks by feel before she heard the men stirring. She shot a glance behind her and doubled her efforts, only to find all the locks re-secured when she turned the light on. "Holy crap! What the hell is going on?" I know I undid those locks. I've done it a thousand times.
"We're your Christmas presents, Abby." A man's pained voice sounded from the bodies she'd left near the kitchen.
Abby turned toward them after glancing again at the dead cell phone. The locks, she couldn't explain.
The men rose shakily, helping each other up. Two nearly identical "steaming hot, muscled hunks of love," her girlfriends at work would call them. She could easily imagine her friends pushing each other out of the way to shove crisp dollar bills down the men's tight, brightly colored little thongs. Thongs in Chicago in December? Oh no. "Uhm... you said you were my Christmas presents?"
They nodded in tandem.
"Did Mandy and Kim send you? I told them not to get me anything for Christmas, damn it!"
The men shrugged, and the one with the bloodied nose pulled a towel away from his face. "We don't know who sent us, Abby, just that we're here to grant your every desire."

White Hot Christmas: Emmy's Wish by Ayla Ruse

White Hot Christmas: Emmy's Wish
by Ayla Ruse

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-721-5
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Magic, Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: White Hot Christmas
Length: Hot Flash
Page Count: 29

Hey Santa,
This year, I want a BIG, real live man as my present. In case you aren't sure what I mean, I want BIG, um, male parts. I'm willing to negotiate to have him only one day -- preferably Christmas Day.
Your ever faithful worker ~ Emmy.
White Hot Christmas: Emmy's Wish
Ayla Ruse
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Ayla Ruse

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.

Emmy woke up Christmas morning hopeful, excited, and with eyes squeezed shut. She took a deep breath and peeked to her right.
Damn. No hulking male. Instead, there was a shiny little golden bell resting on the pillow next to her head. "Thanks, Santa," she mumbled as she picked it up and gave it a little shake. Its tune spread high and bright through her room, and Emmy sighed. In truth, she wasn't surprised to find her bed empty -- again. Hopeful, but not surprised.
"No sense staying in bed if it's empty." Determined to enjoy her Christmas day, she climbed out from under the red satin sheets, naked -- ever hopeful -- and rummaged through the top of her messy bureau. Finding what she wanted, she picked out a shiny red and green twisted ribbon, which she threaded through the bell. She hung this around her neck, admiring how the bell rested perfectly in the shallow valley of her breasts.
She tapped the bell, smiled at the pretty tinkling sound, then cupped her small breasts and flicked her nipples. "Sorry, girls. Looks like we're flying solo again this year." Shrugging her shoulders, she bounced out of her bedroom.
Her destination: the kitchen, and breakfast. Even though it was still early and not much sunlight filtered in, she didn't turn on her lights. She'd decorated the high, open beams throughout her cottage with bright, twinkling, multi-colored rope lights, lending a festive glow throughout her home. Dancing a little to make her bell sing as she made her way into the living room, she didn't pay attention around her, and her leg banged against something solid.
Off balance, she fell over the obstacle and landed hard on the floor.
"Mmm, Merry Christmas to me," a low, male voice resonated through the room.
Emmy froze with her forearms on the floor, and her waist caught over what she quickly realized was a male leg.
"Does that sweet ass come with a face?" the voice inquired seductively.
Her initial embarrassment fled and excitement poured through her. She pushed up to her hands, turned her head and became speechless at the sight of the male draped across her couch. As she looked up his length, his clothing stood out first. His pants and shirt shimmered a blue and white blend that reminded her of the frozen lakes out back. She smiled at the bulge growing under his pants, but moved her gaze up to his face. His dark skin stood out starkly against so much white. It was difficult to pinpoint under the glow of the lights, but she'd put his coloring at a light smoky gray. Like the first shadows to fall at dusk. His white hair was long, thick, and shaggy -- not in a derelict way, but more of a blending in with nature kind of way.
She stopped breathing when their gazes locked. His eyes were white, with icy blue irises and a brighter starburst of white for pupils. He tilted his head and her gaze averted to his pointed ears. Elf's ears. It couldn't be. "You're an Elf?" she asked incredulously.
He nodded. "I'm a Border Elf."
"The ones that protect and patrol the North Pole? I'd heard you guys were ugly."
The Border Elf laughed out loud.
"You are definitely not ugly," she said hurriedly, teetering on his leg as she worked herself upright. Once on her feet, she didn't stay there for long. She crawled right up and over the male and straddled his hips as if she'd done so a million times before.
"Whoa." He grinned. His blinding smile dazzled her. "What's this about?"
"Santa sent you, right?"
"He did. He told me he had an Elf who wanted to play with a Border for a day."
She clapped her hands and, raising her head, whispered, "Thank you, Santa." Looking back into the arresting face of the male underneath her, she said, "You're my gift. I get to play with you all day!"

White Hot Christmas: Stripping Christmas by Zenobia Renquist

White Hot Christmas: Stripping Christmas
by Zenobia Renquist

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-716-1
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Interracial/MultiCultural, Magic, Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: White Hot Christmas
Length: Hot Flash

Alex thought she was going to a job. Instead she ends up marrying the heir to the title of Santa Claus. The vows have been said and cannot be taken back, even if Alex isn't the ideal bride Kris was hoping for to re-energize the powers of the House of Kringle. But Alex is about to teach him that being a little naughty -- or a lot -- can go a long way.
White Hot Christmas: Stripping Christmas
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Zenobia Renquist

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

A red limo. Not just any red, Christmas red. Very appropriate for the season. The man standing beside the limo wore a green chauffeur's suit with an Elf hat and pointed ears to finish off the look. If he were three feet shorter, he would have been perfect for the motif.
He caught sight of her staring at him and bowed. "Miss Alexanna Laurel Ford?"
She nodded. "That's me."
"I am No'l, miss. I have come to retrieve you." He opened the door as he held out his hand to her.
Alex let him guide her forward into the limo. She'd never had anyone hand her into a car before. It was a novel experience. She pulled her long coat in after her and got comfortable.
"Ready, miss?"
No'l closed the door gently, went to the driver's seat and guided the limo onto the highway.
Alex asked, "How far are we going?"
"The North Pole, miss."
"Cute. Now where are we really going?"
No'l glanced over his shoulder at her quickly. "I... I'm not sure what you mean, miss. I have answered your question."
"Okay." She settled back, prepared to play along. She had her cell phone with built in GPS and personal locater if this job turned sour. Her little purse also had a mini baton and a very sharp metal nail file. She hoped she wouldn't need any of that but was happy she had them.
They only drove for twenty minutes before No'l stopped the limo in front of a grand hotel that could only be described as a winter palace. It had to be at least ten floors of white brick that glistened in the setting sunlight. Something else that was very appropriate for the season.
She didn't remember there being any hotels like this in her area, though. Before she could open the door to get a better look around, No'l opened it for her and offered his hand. She took it and stepped out into snow.
Snow crunched under her shoes. The walkway where she stood had been recently swept, but the lightly falling snow had started covering it again. Around her as far as she could see was a vast snowfield. She looked around for buildings of some kind and saw nothing.
A faint twinkling made her look up. She stared with wide eyes at the shimmering Aurora Borealis. "No way," she whispered.
No'l bowed to her and said, "Welcome to the North Pole, miss." He led her through the large double doors of the winter palace to a grand foyer where ten women dressed in green maid outfits waited. Like No'l, each of the women had pointed ears. Gesturing to the ladies, No'l said, "These ladies will be your maids. They will help you dress for the evening."
"Okay." Alex didn't know what they were putting her in that she had to have help getting it on, but she was willing to continue playing along.
Three hours later, Alex stood in front of a mirror, staring. She barely recognized herself. Her microbraids had been put into an up-do with a few braid strands pulled free to frame her face in spiral curls. A thin, silver circlet around her head held a dangling ruby that between her light brown eyes. Matching teardrop rubies graced her ears.
The kicker was the wedding dress. That was the only word to describe it. It had a halter-style top with a flowing skirt that brushed the floor. The dress was all white, like a wedding dress, except for the red trim lining the neckline of the halter and the red lace border trimming the hem of the skirt, which trailed two feet behind her.
She wore red slippers but couldn't see them in the mirror. What she could see almost brought tears to her eyes. She had never worn such a beautiful dress before. And she didn't normally like wearing white. It made her dark complexion look ashen. This dress, however, made her brown skin look like it was glowing.
One of the maids walked up behind Alex and held out a large, cascading bouquet of red and white poinsettias. "It's time, miss."
Alex followed the maid to the door where No'l waited for her. He offered her his arm and took her down in the elevator to the second floor. They exited to the melodic sound of a piano playing Carol of the Bells.
Everyone in the large room faced the elevator. Alex knew she had to look spooked, but she couldn't help it. This really looked and felt like a wedding. This was a bit much of a production for a night's entertainment. She'd heard of a few of the other girls having weird clients, but never someone doing a mock wedding.
No'l walked her down the aisle toward the man who awaited her at the altar. He stood there alone, though. There was no best man or priest. At least they wouldn't take this make believe wedding too far.
That helped Alex relax, and she smiled. It wasn't that hard to smile, considering every step took her closer to a very handsome man. He must be her patron. He stood tall and serious, waiting for her.
His platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Since he stood sideways with his face turned toward her, Alex could see the ponytail reached past his shoulders. Like the others, he had long, pointed ears. Unlike the others, his ears extended higher, almost to the top of his head. It was a very dramatic effect.
His toned body was dressed in a full-length red Mandarin collar tuxedo. The jacket of the tuxedo brushed the tops of his knees and was left open, revealing his white vest and shirt. Red slacks and shiny black shoes finished the look.
As she drew closer, Alex saw more details of her eccentric patron. His chin sported a thin platinum goatee that traced up the edges of his jawline, and his eyes were a stunning shade of true blue.
No'l stopped one step away from the man, who stood a full head taller than Alex. She smiled up at him. No'l took Alex's hand from his elbow and held it out to the man at the altar.
The man said as he took her hand, "I am Kristijonasario. I bid you welcome to my home, Alexanna."

Sunday, December 18, 2011

All I Want for Christmas by Shelby Morgen

Spotlight: All I Want for Christmas
by Shelby Morgen

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-59596-084-9
Genre(s): Action Adventure/ Suspense, Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary)
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Dark Desire
Series: C.H.A.S.E.
Length: Novel
Page Count: 95

The wrong place.

Candy Nelson has wandered into a nightmare -- a slave auction in Southeast Asia.

The wrong time.

Things like this don't happen -- not in the twenty-first century.

One wrong move could get her killed.

One woman. Alone. She isn't supposed to be here. She needs to get out. Now.

But from across the room, a man raises his head, and his eyes meet hers. And Candy knows she'll do whatever it takes to buy this stranger his freedom. Though setting him free is the farthest thought from her mind...

Publisher's Note: All I Want For Christmas is book one of the C.H.A.S.E. Series, available in collection as Plain Brown Wrapper (C.H.A.S.E. Collection) by Shelby Morgen.
C.H.A.S.E. 1: All I Want For Christmas
Shelby Morgen
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2004 by 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.

2:45 PM Friday, 17 December 2004
A dilapidated warehouse somewhere in Malaysia

The gavel hung in midair while the auctioneer waited. Nothing. At last the German turned away, his nostrils flaring in anger as he shook his head.

"Sold!" The gavel banged on the rickety wooden podium, echoing through the room. All other sound ceased. "To the lady in the white suit."

Candy finally remembered to breathe. The auction workers brought her purchase to her, and Candy handed over a stack of American dollars.

Now what?

She turned to face the incredible hunk standing before her.

Good Lord. What had she done?

1:15 PM Friday, 17 December 2004
Singapore Changi Airport

Candy ran for the cab pulling up in the loading area, but before she could flag the driver down, he was gone. "I hate Christmas!"

She dropped the handle of her rather unwieldy luggage cart. Predictably, it collapsed, raining suitcases across the sidewalk. She jammed the toe of her black leather pump into the nearest bag. Ouch. Shit. That was stupid.

Lord, she was tired. Airport security was so tight now it had taken her over an hour to get through customs.

She was going to be late.

Candy hated being late.

Goddamnit. She watched yet another taxi drive away. I shouldn't even be here. Any of the junior attorneys could have handled the job, but not even an all-expense-paid trip to Singapore could get anyone else to take an out-of-the-country assignment over the holidays.

Well, she would have been just as alone back in New York. No matter how you looked at it, the holidays sucked.

It wasn't just Christmas. Her birthday fell on December 25th. The worst part was her parents had wanted a Christmas baby. But now they were gone, and there was no one around who would even remember it was her birthday, let alone go out of their way to make the day special for her.

Time, as Richard would say, to move on.


The thought of Richard gave her enough energy to pick up her suitcases and search for a cab.

Funny how Richard and asshole just naturally went together.

She'd bet a hundred dollars it was Richard-the-asshole who'd screwed with her flight schedule. She should have landed last night, just before midnight. Instead she'd ended up on the later flight with a plane change at LAX. Twenty-nine nerve-wracking hours after taking off from BWI she was finally in Singapore. It wasn't even about the money, though he'd probably saved a grand on the tickets. No, it was about keeping her under his thumb.

Screw you, you sanctimonious bastard. I will not miss this auction, damn you.

A cab pulled up to disgorge a touristy looking couple overburdened with packages. "Taxi!" Candy screamed. Jerking hard on the handle of her luggage cart, she raced for the cab, waving madly at the driver. "Taxi!"

This driver actually came around to help her with her bags. Maybe her luck was changing. While the driver piled her luggage into the trunk, Candy poured herself into the back of the cab, ready to pass out. She'd dressed for winter in New York, not the warmth of Singapore. "The Mandarin Oriental, please."

"Shiok, lah?"

He didn't speak English? Well, that was just great. Lah she was pretty sure meant yes in Malay, but shiok she didn't have a clue about. She held out her confirmation email and pointed to the address.

"Lah," the driver agreed. At least she hoped he was agreeing to take her to the hotel. He wasn't her idea of a hot date. Once he got started, he chattered non-stop, waving his hand at various buildings as they wound their way across town. Blah, blah, blah, blah

Candy closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. The light breeze brought the smell of the ocean in with it. The Mandarin Oriental, Singapore, sat right on the bay. She'd have breakfast tomorrow on her balcony, overlooking the Keppel Harbour, in an opulent and exclusive hotel, newly remodeled.

The Mandarin Oriental was one of the few luxuries she permitted herself. After all, it was... appropriate. It fit the corporate image. The concierge knew her by name. There would be stationery in the drawer with her name printed on it. Room service would have a double espresso sent up precisely at 7:00 AM, with the New York Times, delivered in English.

All that luxury came with a price, and Richard-the-asshole was picking up the tab. She reminded herself to order room service more often. Would serve him right if she'd brought along an "assistant" and charged the entire trip for two off to her expense account.

She would have, too, if she had an assistant. But that was his department. Bastard.

The driver pulled to a stop in front of the Mandarin Oriental. Candy gave him a twenty-dollar tip to wait while she checked in. She'd put that on her expense account too. It was Richard's fault she was late.

This was her time now. Visions of crisp silk and aging bisque brought a smile to her lips. She didn't bother to follow her bags up to the suite. They'd be unpacked by the time she returned. If the driver hauled ass and it wasn't too far away she could still make the most important part of the auction -- a dozen late 1800's vintage Bru Bebes, all from the same collection, all pristine, with their original boxes. Too bad she couldn't afford all of them, but even she didn't have that kind of money. At least not on her, in cash. Unless they went very, very reasonably, she'd be doing well to manage one...

The cabdriver shook his head adamantly when she showed him the Web page she'd printed out. "Sotong! No woman! No go! Terok! Ulu, kayu, lah?"

No woman? What the hell did that mean? The auction had started over twenty minutes ago. She didn't have time for this. She waved the printouts at him. "Auction," she explained. She pointed to the picture of a little girl holding an antique china doll. "Auction. Antique auction. This address."

The man shook his head. "No go. Terok, ulu. No woman. No go."

Sweat trickled down her shoulders in an irritating and unbecoming fashion. Candy searched her phrase book impatiently. "Auction," she attempted in Malay. Assuming he spoke Malay. "Where I come from women go to auctions all the time. Alone." She tapped the face of her watch. "I'm late." She held out two more Singapore twenties.

Finally the man snatched the money from her hands, still muttering in a curious mix of Malaysian and broken English as he turned the key in the ignition. Candy smiled smugly as the cab lurched forward with a cough and a sputter.

After all, it was Brasden-Marten's expense account. She was here on company business. The American fifties stowed in her purse were her own, to be spent however she wished, and he couldn't say a thing. Not any more. Her "ridiculous hobby" was an asset he despised too much to even bother to get appraised.


She tried to focus on the joy of the hunt, the impending victory. Maybe if she closed her eyes, just for a moment while the cab took her across town… Maybe a tiny, short little power nap and she'd regain her equilibrium. Maybe...

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Sinful Wager by Alice Gaines

Sinful Wager
by Alice Gaines

Cover art: Angela Knight
ISBN: 978-1-60521-724-6
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Dark Desire
Length: Novella
Page Count: 70

Marty Davis takes a wrong turn in the casino called Pleasure Palace and winds up in a place where the machines pay off with hot sex and everyone wins. Turns out she's in hell, and Lucifer is the sexiest guy there. With all that going for the underworld, who'd want to go back to reality? She makes a deal with him -- if she can make him beg for the privilege of giving her an orgasm, she gets to stay on as his partner.
Lucifer doesn't need a partner, but this woman gets his libido hot and bothered, something that hasn't happened for longer than he cares to remember. Besides, her ideas for running the casino have the place humming. He takes her challenge and finds, to his chagrin, that he can't seem to win.
Sinful Wager
Alice Gaines
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Alice Gaines

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.

Modern casino chips sure didn't make the satisfying clatter silver dollars used to. That didn't keep Marty Davis from ruffling her thumb upward along the pile in front of her on the bar. Thapthapthapthapthap over and over again until she couldn't stomach the sound any longer, so she spread them out in a precise line and scooped them up again.
Tim's hand came across the bar and down on hers. "Are you doing that to irritate me or yourself?"
"Both," she answered. "Is it working?"
"I can only speak on my own behalf," he said. "Yes."
"Make me a drink, will you?"
"Sure thing. What'll it be?"
She considered the question. The house wine they served in the casino sucked. The local beer was swill. The best bartender in all of Las Vegas, Tim could make eight-layer frappe things out of various liqueurs so sweet they'd give you cavities. None of that held any appeal.
"Mix me something strong enough that I'll go jump some guy's bones," she said finally.
Tim smiled and leaned over the bar toward her. "My bones are always available."
Indeed they were, as he made obvious at every opportunity. She'd normally take full advantage of such a thorough and considerate lover, but Tim had become too attached, and she'd had to break things off before he got hurt. He deserved kids and a picket fence, not a woman who bored as easily as she did.
Instead of waiting for her to make up her mind, Tim took the bottle of good Scotch from the shelf behind him and poured a generous amount into a tumbler. He set that and a cocktail napkin in front of her. "On me."
"Thanks." She lifted the glass in a toast and then sipped at the smooth liquor. Tim couldn't afford much of this stuff on his salary, and she normally wouldn't accept it from him, but she couldn't keep rejecting everything he offered.
"Quiet night?" she asked.
"Pretty much. I only had to call security on one rowdy drunk."
"What about him?" she said, nodding in the direction of a man sitting at the end of the bar. The guy wore a suit a bit too big for him and sat with his head in his hands, his fingers stuck into his fringe of hair. "Shouldn't you be getting him a cab?"
"He's just depressed," Tim said. "Lost a bunch of money."
Marty pushed the pile of chips toward Tim. "Give him these."
Tim's eyebrow went up. "That's a lot."
"I have more on this," she said, holding up the card the last slot had coughed out after she'd won a jackpot.
"Lucky night?" he asked.
"Just like every night."
Tim picked up the chips and headed toward the man with the bad clothes and the worse expression. She didn't catch much of the conversation, but the guy perked right up, lifting his head out of his hands and smoothing his hair into place. After giving her a thumbs-up, he climbed off his stool and disappeared into the crowd around one of the craps tables. That might have lifted her spirits if she hadn't known he'd piss all the money away again. By the time he did, she'd be gone from here one way or another.
Tim returned. "You made his day."
"I give him an hour before he's back and broke again."
Tim studied her for a moment. "You're really down, aren't you?"
She shrugged. "Not down so much as..."
Empty was more like it. A nice, long, miserable crying jag would feel pretty good, but she had no real reason for sadness.
"Things come too easy lately," she went on. "I landed the biggest account at the agency without even trying. I keep winning here, no matter what I play."
"Every man in the place has the hots for you," Tim said.
She wouldn't have brought up the subject and rubbed Tim's nose in it, but she'd had lots of opportunities in that department, too. She'd had enough lovers in the last month to fill an anthology of really naughty stories. Not a disappointment among them. The ones without huge endowments had all had skillful fingers and tongues. Others could go all night. An embarrassment of riches. All that ought to make her happy.
"Faust," Tim said.
She snapped back to reality. "I beg your pardon?" "The Faust story," he said. "You're living it."
"That's right. You're the literature major."
"That and bartender school got me this glamorous job." He extended his arms, gesturing around him.
"Tell me more about this Faust thing."
"Faust was a man, not a thing." Tim grabbed his cloth and wiped the top of the bar the way he always did when he either told a story or listened to one. "He had everything he could possibly want, but nothing gave him any pleasure."
"That pretty much describes me," she said. "What did he do?"
"The devil offered him a bargain. If Satan could show him something so beautiful he'd want to hold onto it, Faust would have to surrender his soul."
"How did the story come out?" she asked.
"Depends on whose version you're reading," Tim answered.
"I'm not likely to find anything so interesting as Satan here."
"The Pleasure Palace is a pretty big place. Are you sure you've explored every corner of it?" Tim asked.
"Enough corners." Tim had a point, though. The hotel/casino complex was one of Vegas's newest, biggest, and most luxurious, but it had the added cachet of having been built on the foundation of several older gambling houses. An intricate web of corridors went off in all directions beneath the massive building, ending abruptly in some cases. Rumors had circulated during construction about things workers had found in basements. All hype, no doubt, but few people could claim they had actually seen every square foot of the place. Lots of tourists came here specifically to explore, and none ever complained of being disappointed.
"You know I'm right, don't you?" Tim said. "Where are you going to find the devil if not in Las Vegas and where in Las Vegas if not here?"
"What the heck? It's too early to go home, anyway." She got off her barstool and picked up the ridiculously expensive Scotch. After downing it, she leaned across the bar to give Tim a quick kiss good-bye and then wandered off into the huge gaming area.
The usual chaos of lights and noises surrounded her as she went. After a while, it all blended together into a kind of sensory overload and from there into visual and auditory white noise. For a moment, Marty went adrift in it, losing her way among tables and machines she'd visited off and on for months.
Maybe Tim had slipped something into her Scotch. No, he wouldn't do that. He might ask and cajole to get back into her bed, but he'd never do anything underhanded. Still, something had knocked her off her bearings. Maybe she'd had some kind of reaction to the liquor.
After several seconds, the sensations faded, her mind clearing. She shook herself briefly, turned a corner, and found herself in a part of the club she'd never seen before.
As she glanced around, the feeling of newness grew even more pronounced and for good reason. She'd never visited an X-rated casino -- hadn't even known such a place existed -- but she stood in the middle of one now.