Sunday, January 30, 2011

Broken Valentine by Cynthia Sax

Broken Valentine

by Cynthia Sax

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-504-4

Genre(s): Urban Fantasy

Theme(s): Valentine's Day, Seasonal Themes, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures

Length: Hot Flash
Sometimes to get what you need, you have to break all the rules.

Cupids are the Fey world's mercenaries. These elite archers are assigned targets by love Fairies. Cupids then shoot the unsuspecting humans with love arrows. They don't question their assignments. They don't deviate from their targets. They complete their jobs and collect their pay.

Until one Cupid changes everything.

The top Cupid, Garvin, is fed up with easy assignments. He wants a challenge. After one random shooting spree, the scarred warrior gets what he wants. An angry and sinfully sexy love Fairy is given the task of supervising the bad boy archer. She will soon discover that breaking the rules is contagious.

Broken Valentine

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.

"Which one of you asswipes paired a professional assassin up with a Sunday school teacher?" Val's irate voice carried over the murmur of the happy hour crowd. Garvin's bow wielding brothers-in-arms swiveled on their barstools to face the angry love Fairy.

Garvin didn't move, refusing to acknowledge her presence. He stared stubbornly into his glass of whiskey, well aware that ignoring Val would piss her off even more. Her cheeks would flush with passion. Her pink eyes would sparkle. That lush mouth of hers would flap. Only an encounter with his Val could pierce this damn eternal boredom.

He heard the tap, tap, tap of stilettos on the hardwood. "It was you, wasn't it?" Her rose blossom scent swirled around them. Garvin inhaled, taking that piece of her deep within him.

She knew he was the guilty archer. He was the best, he was the baddest, and he had demanded exclusive rights to all of Val's assignments. No other Cupid would mess with that claim. "Move," he growled at the winged man sitting on the barstool next to him. The seat squeaked as Brown hustled to do his bidding. "Val." He slapped the warm vinyl circle.

Her full mouth pressed into a thin white line. "If you think I'm going to --" The words stopped as he scooped her up and plopped her down on the barstool. She weighed nothing -- his gaze lingered over her heaving chest -- yet that nothing was distributed nicely. She had big breasts, a narrow waist, and shapely hips. Her short, full skirt showed off her curvy legs. "Stop that." She batted his lingering hands away. Her pink ponytail bobbed with her struggle. "This is no time for games. You're in big trouble, Gar."

She was right. He was in big trouble, but that wasn't a new development. He'd been in big trouble since the first day they'd met. The introductions hadn't even been made before he'd kissed her -- a possessive, branding kiss declaring to the world she was his. When he was done with that inappropriate-for-work display, she had slapped him, equally as hard.

His fascination with her had intensified to the point that one sniff of her scent made his fingers twitch and his cock harden. "I asked you for challenging assignments." She hadn't taken him seriously, laughing at his request. He gulped a mouthful of the whiskey, relishing the burn.

"I worked for five months finding the perfect man for Marcie, five months." Her small fists pounded the bar top, making glasses jump. "You destroyed all that with one missed shot."

"One missed shot?" He glowered at her. "I don't miss, Fairy." He was the best. Didn't she know that?

"You..." Her mouth dropped open. He longed to kiss those lips shut. "You bastard." She burst into motion, flailing her arms like windmills, pounding his shoulder. "You did this on purpose." A flower blossom had more power than she did. "You... ouch."

"Damn it." He captured her wrist. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't allow her retreat. "Let me see." Her hands were red and raw. Garvin wanted to howl with outrage. "You little fool." He brushed his lips across them, trying to soothe her pain. "You hurt yourself." He kissed each pink fingertip. He explored her hand with his mouth, tracing every crease in her palm. He could nibble on her forever. She was so delectably soft.

She stared at him with wide eyes. "Gar, you're such an ass." She made her insult sound like an endearment. "You drive me absolutely crazy."

Saturday, January 29, 2011

COMING SOON! White Russian

Tiressa just wanted a drink. After weeks of lonely space, one breakdown after another, and delays of every kind, she just wanted to relax for a few hours while the nebula storm passed. When she orders a white russian straight up, she doesn't get what she expects.

Yuri Dubnikov was pleaaently surprised to land in the hands of such a luscious looking woman. It was still bad, but at least he had someone interesting to pass the time with. As a spy under a cover so deep, only the Supreme Commander of the military knew his mission. Convincing her he wasn't really as bad as it seemed would definitely take work.

Fortunately, she's as drawn to him as he is to her. Their chemistry, when they collide, will be explosive.

Chapter One
Tiressa stumbled into the dimly lit holo bar and collapsed into a booth. What a fucking day! Nothing had gone right. Absolutely nothing. Her ship had been grounded at Patmar Station because of a busted beacon lamp. When she finally did get clearance to leave, her power coil blew a ring. Now, the nebula storms had forced her to this back-space junk station with no end in sight. What the fuck else could go wrong? She just wanted to get back to Earth and civilization.
She flagged down the dark-haired waiter, who tried to ignore her. "Look, I'm tired, and all I want to do is get back to Earth. I'm seriously PMSing and I've had absolutely no chocolate or caffeine for the last twenty solar days. Do not make me ask you twice to get your ass over her and get me a drink."
That changed the little man's mind. In a hurry.
Tiressa wasn't a small woman by any means. She stood five-nine and, though lean, carried a fair amount of muscle. She looked like a space marine and had the temper to match, but in reality, she was glorified delivery girl. Suited her fine. She was the only cargo tech in the whole damned company who hadn't been jacked at least four or five times. Hell, she hadn't been jacked even once. The only pirate who'd tried got to sample his own balls.
After that, word got around, and everyone pretty much left her alone.
"What'll it be?" The lanky waiter might have finally stopped at her table, but it was far from a willing gesture.
"White Russian. Straight up."
The man stopped in mid-movement as he tapped her order into his tablet. "Did you say, 'White Russian, straight up?'"
Tiressa had to clench her fists to keep from scratching the poor bastard's eyes out. "Did I stutter or something, or are you hard of hearing?"
"No, ma'am." His tone was suddenly respectful, and his body language screamed fear. Finally, something in her tone had made him take her seriously. Maybe this day was getting better. "I just didn't expect a woman to… err… order… such a… err… drink." He stammered all over himself, but Tiressa didn't care. Something in the back of her mind prickled, but she ignored it. If he brought her alcohol, she didn't really give a fuck.
Instead of replying, she just gave him her best icy stare, and he scurried off. Sitting back with a satisfied smirk, Tiressa crossed her legs and looked around her. The place was practically deserted save for a couple of human attendants and several bots to clean tables. The latest news feeds scrolled along the top of the bar, and holo images of fugitives and criminals danced across the banner. Including the announcement of the capture of the Yuri Dubnikov.
Tiressa was never one to be intimidated by anyone, but she had to admit, knowing Dubnikov was behind bars was a relief. His reputation made her hair curl. He was wanted for so many crimes, the list ran the length of the ticker several times. Rape and murder were only minor infractions, if the news could be believed. Crimes against humanity, genocide, and the destruction of vital trade routes using deadly means were just a few of the capital crimes he was charged with. How much was actually true was anybody's guess, but Tiressa felt safer knowing she wouldn't run up against him on one of those sabotaged trade routes.
Everything about the man sent shivers down her spine. Looking at his image on the news, she wondered how he'd managed to stay in hiding as long as he had. Nothing about the man was mundane. He stood out in a crowd like a beat dick. Exceedingly tall and muscular, he stood at least head and shoulders above everyone around him, no matter where he went. His skin was pale, but not so much that his dark blond hair gave him a washed out appearance. Angular features made his face seemed chiseled out of stone. One couldn't call him handsome by any means, but he definitely wasn't someone who blended in with his surroundings. Nor did he seem like a man who'd want to sneak around wherever he went.
No. Dubnikov would blatantly flaunt himself out in public just to prove he couldn’t be caught. Tiressa could tell by the defiant way he boldly looked directly at the camera, not bothering to try and shield himself as so many do when caught. The smirk made Tiressa feel as if he were playing a joke on everyone, that they hadn't so much caught him as he'd let himself be caught.
Not a pleasant line of thinking as far as Tiressa was concerned.
She needed that drink. Yesterday.

Dragos 2: Scorched by Amber Kallyn

Dragos 2: Scorched

by Amber Kallyn

Cover art: Karen Fox

ISBN: 978-1-60521-509-9
Genre(s): Paranormal

Theme(s): Interracial, Shapeshifters, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures

Series: Dragos

Length: Novel
A rare Argentinean dragon shifter, Cynthianna "Anna" Hernandez has never known trust, peace or safety, not even by fleeing to the deepest wilds of Canada. When bounty hunter Garreth Dragos shows up during a blizzard, things get complicated as their inner dragons decide they're perfect for each other. Things get worse when the dark mage hunting Anna finds them, sending his creatures to return her to his evil clutches. He's willing to sacrifice anything and anybody to further his quest for power. Together, Anna and Garreth must trust in each other or all will be lost to evil.
Dragos: Scorched

Amber Kallyn

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 Amber Kallyn

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.

Snow. Everywhere. Garreth Dragos pushed through the clingy, freezing stuff. The ground had become hard-packed, knee-high drifts. Softer, yet still icy, flakes swirled in the air, unceasingly falling from a hidden sky.
Minutes, maybe hours ago, he'd lost the leather lace holding his hair tied back. Icy black strands tangled in his face, slapping his eyes.

His body had long ceased shivering, but still he moved forward, uncaring. There was a job to do. A traitorous criminal to bring in. She would face the council for unforgivable crimes.

Garreth clenched his fists, trying to push back the painful memories of his past. Of the people who'd committed similar crimes against his family. And like the one responsible for his personal pain, this traitor would be sentenced to a well-deserved death.

He inched through the whiteness, an ache spreading deep in his chest. Only a month ago he'd captured the one responsible for causing his family such agony. Now, that man was dead. Garreth refused to think about the fact that at one time, the man had been his eldest brother.

Those bonds were broken the moment the man killed their mother and used her magic and blood for dark purposes.

Shaking his head, he plowed on through the snow. His feet, freezing and wet, no longer burned. His chest expanded and a puff of smoke drifted from his nostrils. He was so cold he couldn't even shift into his dragon form.

Not that it was an option anyway. She would sense such a thing. The traitor was near. She must be. Garreth had it on good authority -- a snitch he could trust. At least, as far as someone living in a shady area of the law could be trusted. So he was doomed to continue walking through this frackin cold hell until he found her hideout.

Something buried in the snow caught his boot. Unbalanced, he fell forward, inhaling a mouthful of ice. He pushed up from the depression his body made, crawling to the surface and flipped onto his back.

Ice breached his thick, fur-lined jacket. Breathing heavy, Garreth stared into the moving whiteness. Snowflakes landed on his face and he tried blinking them out of his eyes.

In a minute, he would go on. But for now, he needed to catch his breath. It occurred to him that he should probably get up immediately. Being lethargic wasn't like him. But even his dragon, seeming far away and untouchable, only wanted to sleep for a while.

In the distance came a howl. More echoed around him. Wolves. They wouldn't dare approach, not once they caught his predatory scent. Assuming it reached them through the bitter air before they decided to take a bite.

* * *

Cynthianna Hernandez stared at the growling wolf on her cabin porch, his eyes flashing as he crouched for attack. "Silencio," she commanded.

Wolf whimpered, turning to stare at the trees around them, one paw on the wood, the other poised to dash out into the blizzard.

She sensed the presence of someone here as well as her companion did. That didn't mean she would foolishly dart out into the storm -- quickly becoming the promised blizzard -- to go find out who, or what, had come to the forest.

Anna clasped the oval locket dangling from the gold chain around her neck. She didn't have to open it to remember what her beloved padre looked like. Or his final words to her.

"Run. The master is after you."

Well, she'd done so. How much farther could a dragon run than the coldest reaches of Canada? At least here, the chances of bumping into his creatures were slim.

She hadn't even seen another dragon during her time wandering this cold, frozen place. Then again, dragons were creatures of heat. The cold hindered their abilities. Only the blood of her mama -- a rare Argentinean dragon, more magic than fire -- helped her function in this weather. Anna could call on those inherent abilities to protect her from the cold.

Most dragons were of European descent. Over the centuries, their magic faded, while their fire increased.

She had the best of both worlds.

And if a dragon would be hard pressed to survive, anyone estupido to be caught out in the fast approaching storm would soon be dead.

Howls erupted in the forest, less than a mile from her hidden cabin. Wolf whimpered again, inching forward. "You won't stand a chance against a pack," Anna replied, staring out into the white nothingness. "And anyone out there is none of our concern."

But a pang of worry crept into her chest. Could she really stand by and let someone die? Clutching her jacket tighter, she mumbled, "I'm el stupido."

Wolf yelped and trotted into the snow. Anna followed. He ranged ahead, doubling back every few minutes to point her the right way. Ten minutes later, the cold had bitten deep, crawling beneath her jacket trying to freeze her. She called to her dragon magic. Soon, warmth surrounded her, pushing back the cold.

The wind shifted, opening a slim curtain in the white. In front of her, Wolf stood over a body-shaped lump. He growled, snapping at three mangy, starved wolves. Their eyes glowed yellow, reflecting moonlight.

"Regresar," Anna commanded the wild beasts to leave. The three strange wolves turned their glares to her. "Regresar," she repeated, a low growl of her own escaping with the word.

One wolf barked, then as one, they turned and fled. Anna's wolf faced her, tongue lolling from the side of his sly grin. Then he began digging snow from the body.

"Whoever it is, they're surely dead by now." But she knelt down and pushed a thin layer of snow from the person's face.

Only to catch her breath. The hard, chiseled face seemed familiar. Black eyebrows framed slightly tilted eyes. She dusted off his tangled black hair, then moved to his broad chest. He breathed. Surprise almost made her jerk away.

Brushing a strand of her long, dark hair from her eyes, she stared at his wide mouth, the square jaw, the dimple in his chin. This couldn't be... No. Not her dream warrior. Just because he looked so like the few flashes she'd seen didn't mean anything. Her dream warrior was merely a figment of her imagination. This man was real.

And yet, heat spread through her body as she remembered her dream from the night before. How her warrior had loved her. Her gaze kept drawing to this man's mouth. Her breasts ached, wanting his touch.

With a snort, Anna ignored her growing desire for the half-dead stranger. At least he wasn't the master. Then again, if she ever caught that bastardo in such a vulnerable position, she'd be able to finish him off for good.

But neither was this man human. She bent near his ear, sniffing deeply. Shock coursed through her and she jerked back. Dragon. What was a dragon doing here?

Friday, January 28, 2011

Rough, Tough, and Tumble 1: Hung at Dawn by Kate Hill

Rough, Tough and Tumble 1: Hung at Dawn

by Kate Hill

Cover art: Zuri

ISBN: 978-1-60521-489-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Time Travel

Theme(s): Ménage, Shapeshifters

Series: Rough, Tough and Tumble

Length: Novella

Rough -- Sefu, a hunky pro fighter in the Aspectian arena where contestants battle in a variety of forms, faces death after being gored by his latest opponent.

Tough -- Tiago, a mysterious career criminal, awaits execution in a high security prison where his shapeshifting powers have been neutralized.

Tumble -- Zandra, a pleasure shifter who has mastered the art of seduction, entertains a dangerous client who wants more from her than sex.

Dr. Apriyn brings together these three seductive shapeshifters for a time travel experiment that hurls them into the old west where sex and violence reign supreme. While defending a town threatened by outlaws, the trio discover each other's talents, in bed and out.

Rough, Tough and Tumble: Hung at Dawn

Kate Hill

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 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.

Sometimes Dr. Apriyn focused so intently on his work that he neglected his baser needs. Just because he obsessed about his projects didn't mean he lacked the same sexual desires as other men. Today's passionate interlude was a necessary part of his plan, but he still enjoyed himself tremendously.

His post as a general medical examiner in the Aspectian capital city meant he had many opportunities to find the people needed for his experiment. He required three highly skilled Aspectians who were familiar with Earth languages and had strong survival instincts but lacked family connections or prominent positions in society. In short, he needed competent people who could easily disappear. That seemed impossible, but not if one knew where to look.

Dr. Apriyn didn't need pillars of society. In fact for the dark, perilous science he dabbled in, he required people equally dangerous, seductive and powerful.

Most people wouldn't consider a pleasure shifter for such work, but when he met Zandra last month, he knew she was perfect for the task. Further study of the young woman proved him right.

Now he stretched out on the satin covered bed in the pleasure house where she worked. He watched her comb her long, chestnut hair. He'd requested she keep her true form during their appointment, and she willingly obliged.

Here on the planet Aspectia, some inhabitants possessed the gift of shapeshifting. The planet was named for these magnificent beings called Aspectians. Dr. Apriyn, though born here, was a non-shifter, identical to an Earth human. Still his shifter cousins fascinated him.

"You told me what form you want me in," Zandra said, gazing at him through brown eyes trimmed with thick, dark lashes. Though she'd grown up on the streets, her eyes weren't hard like so many others Apriyn had seen. "And you asked me to brush my hair."

"You look beautiful when you brush your hair," he said. Nothing turned him on more than the sight of a naked woman brushing her long hair. He loved the silkiness of her tresses and the gentle bounce of her full breasts.

"What else do you want?" she asked.

"I want to touch you," he said in a husky voice. His heartbeat quickened and his cock swelled, poking against the red sheet that covered him from the waist down. He reached beneath and stroked himself, his gaze still fixed on Zandra.

"Here, let me help." She placed her brush on the night table and climbed beneath the sheets. Her lush body half draped over his, she used the sole of her foot to rub his calves while her hand curled around his cock. His eyes narrowed and his pulse quickened.

Zandra's thumb swept over his cock head and teased the ultra sensitive underside. As good as this felt, he wanted to touch her back. He hungered for sex, though as a non-shifting male he rarely nabbed the attention of other Aspectians. They generally preferred their own kind, yet here in the underground, pleasure shifters fucked anyone for the right price.

Dr. Apriyn had paid to use Zandra tonight, but she had no idea the bonus he would soon offer.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Solar Flare: Emerald Earth by Elizabeth Jewell

Solar Flare: Emerald Earth
by Elizabeth Jewell
Cover art: Angela Knight
ISBN: 978-1-60521-564-8
Genre(s): Paranormal, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Solar Flare
Length: Novella
Twenty-five years after its disappearance, the long-haul freighter Lightning Girl returns to Earth with only two passengers left alive. Ash and Trev were lovers when catastrophe befell the freighter, but after twenty-five years of solitude and starvation, things may never be the same between them again.

Solar Flare: Emerald Earth

Elizabeth Jewell

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 Elizabeth Jewell

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.

Cal Harper was five years old when the long haul freighter Lightning Girl disappeared. He remembered seeing the news story on Widenet one evening while he was eating chicken bites and macaroni and thinking it was the saddest thing he'd ever heard. All those people lost, so far from home, and probably nobody would ever know what had happened to them.

But life went on. He never completely forgot about the lost ship, but other things occupied his attention. School, music, girls. He earned a degree in journalism, fell in love with a woman, did a stint on a long haul freighter himself, partly to write about it, partly to stay with the woman.

Then he lost her, and space lost its appeal for him. He observed the news and wrote about it. He mourned. Sometimes, still, he thought about Lightning Girl. Sometimes, he still wondered what had happened to her.

* * *

The news came through on the press boards. Cal was at his desk watching Widenet to see how the competition was handling a recent story about a political scandal in Italy. He glanced to his left to look at the monitor where the press alerts were scrolling across the screen and saw the words out of the corner of his eye, but what he was reading didn't quite register until he turned back to his own monitor. Then, as it clicked, he turned back to the press alerts.

A vehicle drifting past the orbit of Pluto has been identified as the long missing Lightning Girl. No information yet on whether anyone remains alive aboard the freighter.

He felt his breath rise hard and high in his chest, his heart beating faster as he remembered that day when he'd seen the story about Lightning Girl's disappearance. Twenty-five years. What were the chances anyone would still be alive? Although there had been a vampire on board, he remembered.

Italy, he decided, could wait. This was his new story.

* * *

Trev was worried about Ash. He'd been worried for so long it had become a constant background hum, a slow buzz of anxiety that colored every moment. Even when he slept now, as deeply as the daysleep took him, he felt the tension, and it leached its way into his dreams.

Twenty-five years. Ash had been a vampire for twenty-five years, and at no point during that time had he been able to function with full nutrition, full rest, or any of the things he needed to understand and control the vampire nature Trev had conferred on him.

Sometimes, looking at Ash's haunted eyes, the way he flinched now whenever he left the compact solitude of his tiny sleeping berth, Trev wondered if he should have just let Ash die.

But then he would have been alone the last quarter century, facing the same kind of deprivation and flying in silent solitude into the dark.

He'd done it before. No vampire lived as long as Trev had without experiencing at least one long bout of solitude and starvation. It was one of the many dangers inherent in immortality. Once he'd spent six months buried when the building he'd been in had collapsed in an earthquake.

But Trev had been two centuries old when that had happened. He'd been familiar with his systems, with his body, with his hunger. Ash had none of that. Ash had plunged directly from human to vampire. Silent, isolated, starving vampire.

When they'd made the decision -- under duress, soaked with the fear of imminent death -- they'd had no idea they'd be alone this long. Trev had suspected it, or at least had known somewhere in the back of his mind it was a possibility, but the need to stay alive, to keep Ash alive, had overridden caution about what might happen.

Vampire as he was, Trev was still in many ways human.

So was Ash. In many more ways. And that was what made it all so hard.

Trev had been in the engineering section when they first entered a space where the stars seemed familiar. He'd stared at the readouts for a time, looking at the numbers, at the graphical representations of the space they'd entered. The twinge of recognition at the back of his skull made him squint more closely, and finally made him get up, leave engineering, and go to the bridge.

They'd had the baffles closed over the main viewscreen for a long time. Years, maybe. Trev wasn't sure. An irate screeling noise rose from them when Trev activated the switch to open them.

They opened, though, slowly and ponderously and with great protest. Trev settled down into the captain's chair and stared out at the vast black.

A vast black spread with stars he knew.

Something tight and hot inside him loosened. For a long, suspended moment he thought he might weep. Then he blinked, and smiled, and went to tell Ash.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

New Reviews for Changeling Press 1/24/11


New Reviews for Changeling Press 1/24/11

Congratulations to Cynthia Sax, Faith Talbot, Sierra Dafoe, Sarah Black and Madeleine Oh!

Reviewed by Ebook Addicts

Badge Bunny is well written, imaginative, fast paced and so quirky I believed every delightful second of it.

Four Hearts from The Romance Studio

What an enchanting thrill ride of a story this one is. The dynamics between the three main characters are intriguingTheir story was very emotionally gripping.

LIFE'S A BEACH by Sierra Dafoe
Four Cherries from Whipped Cream Reviews

I especially loved the description of Lily's pool side encounter. It was so hot, even a dip in a cold pool, if I had one, would not have brought down my temperature.

Four Cherries from Whipped Cream Reviews

I love stories about people finding each other despite the odds. Add in a couple of flopsy, mopsy puppies and you've really got something. It left a smile on my face.

Five Blue Ribbons from Romance Junkies

a fun sexy story that proves there's no expiration date on BDSM love and games. Madeleine Oh brings these characters to life.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Wolf Hunt Collection by Marie Treanor

Wolf Hunt (Collection)

by Marie Treanor

Cover art: Sahara Kelly

ISBN: 978-1-60521-500-6

Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Collections

Theme(s): Werewolves

Length: Collection

Who’s hunting whom?

A man wakes up naked and alone in a city doorway -- with no memory of how he got there or who he is. For journalist Rose Winter, a wolf story begins to converge with the sexy naked man she’s trying to help. And a chain of events is set in motion that may change Earth’s future…

Human-wolf hybrids, created by a top secret government project, have been released into the world to find and destroy alien infiltrators. But once these soldiers begin to think for themselves, their missions are complicated by attraction, sex and divided loyalties.

Publisher’s Note: This collection contains the previously released novellas Wolf Hunt, Forest Wolf, Cry for the Moon, and Galactic Wolf.

Wolf Hunt (Collection)

Marie Treanor

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 Marie Treanor

Excerpt from Urban Wolf

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, what's going on?"

The female voice seemed to cut through his skin. Clear, brisk, curious, with a warm pitch that spoke straight to his cock. Or would have, had that organ not been so shrivelled with rain and cold. A ripple moved through the hostile crowd. Voices muttered and he had to strain to catch the words.

"I know her. I'm sure I do."

"Who is she?"

"She's that girl on the newscreens. Shit, she's probably got a camera. I'm off..."

Threatening arms in the crowd lowered. Stones dropped casually on the ground with a scattering of dull thuds and several people drifted away.

A young woman emerged from the dispersing crowd, pushing down a rain hood to reveal luxuriant long hair of a bright and rare shade of amber, falling around a face that he supposed was beautiful. Certainly, her bone structure was exquisite, her lips full and tempting, her eyes large and brown...

But it wasn't her beauty or her melting eyes that truly caught his attention. It was her smell. Frowning, he tried to place it. Did he know her? Surely that scent was familiar... Something about it filled his mind with visions of naked, sweating bodies, mainly his own and hers.

She came to an abrupt halt and stared at him. Oh yes, she was highly fuckable, and yet, stronger than his upsurge of unexpected and inconvenient lust was the desire to put his hands around her elegant, swan-like neck and strangle her.

He flexed his fingers.

The older woman was explaining. "Art found him asleep in his doorway when he came home from night shift. Must be a drunk or a down-and-out, some kind of pervert too. Look at him!"

After her first flickering glance, the newcomer seemed to be rather determinedly focusing on his face. "He must be freezing," she said unexpectedly. In an instant, she'd stripped off her raincoat, revealing an orange bodysuit that seemed to match her hair, and bright, chunky beads around her throat. She advanced upon him.

He fell back, giving ground before her as he hadn't before the stone-throwing mob.

She paused. "I won't hurt you. What's your name?"

His throat closed up. Panic threatened to resurface. Her eyes searched his. Every hair on his body stood up in alarm. Though he'd no idea who she was, either, his every instinct was against trusting her.

"Where does he live?" she flung over her shoulder.

Silence and a few shrugs. "Why's he scared of her?" someone muttered.

Scared? Was he? Forcing himself, he stayed still when she took another step nearer to him. Maybe. But it felt like a powerful tug of lust. Mixed with an equally strong urge to exterminate her.

"He's not scared of her," answered another voice with a definite snigger. "He likes her."

She heard them. He could see it in the color soaring into her neck and face. He even admired the way she deliberately didn't so much as glance at his growing cock. And yet it didn't embarrass him. Perhaps he was an exhibitionist after all.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Phantasmagoric Feast by Kate Steele

Phantasmagoric Feast

by Kate Steele

Cover art: Reneé George

ISBN: 978-1-60521-562-4

Genre(s): Paranormal

Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian

Length: Novella

Plagued by self-doubt and to prove, if only to himself, he can be a bold man of action, a slightly inebriated Toby Heaton decides on a reckless course of action. Walking into Mausoleum -- a bar known to be owned and operated by a clan of vampires -- he offers his virgin throat to the biggest baddest blood-sucker in the place... too bad his offer falls flat. At Mausoleum, a human freely supplying a vampire with blood is a nightly occurrence. Still, all is not lost.

Taken under handsome bartender De's wing, Toby is about to embark on a surreal journey. One filled with pleasure and pain. A journey fueled by blood in which he will learn his true worth.

Phantasmagoric Feast

Kate Steele

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 Kate Steele

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 guy walks into a bar," Toby mumbled, following his words with a drunken snicker. He stumbled across the threshold then froze. "But he never thought he'd see something like this." Blinking to clear his drink-befuddled vision, he stared around the room in appalled fascination. Mausoleum -- the much touted vampire bar -- was so much more than he'd expected.

Rather than a dark and noisy, garishly decorated room with neon lights and loud music, this place was an elegant and tasteful monument to the hereafter. Designed with its namesake in mind, the interior of the building resembled an elaborate and ornately decorated tomb.

Majestically posed on tall granite bases, a pair of dogs with multiple heads guarded the entrance -- Cerberus memorialized in stone. There were pairs of strategically placed pillars in each corner of the cavernous, square interior and four more formed a counter square farther in toward the center of the room. On the walls, carved cornices accented decorative friezes rich with sculpted figures of ancient Greek design. Here and there, in recessed alcoves, elegant flower arrangements stood in solitary splendor, the bases of the urns that held them, draped with black satin.

There was loud music as expected, but the lighting was atmospheric and shadowy rather than flashy or neon. It was directed to soften the stark angles of marble and granite used in the room's layout. Booths and tables constructed of heavy, dark wood inlaid with black granite, and with seats and backs padded and covered with black leather, were arranged in groups around the pillars. Each grouping formed an isle unto itself and between these islands most of the patrons gathered. They ebbed and flowed from the central dance floor to the densely packed seating area of their choice, and it was they -- the out-of-the-ordinary clientele -- who truly grabbed Toby's attention.

Everywhere he looked were people dressed in black goth garb. Leather and lace and every fabric in between studded with glittering silver... or so it seemed at first. The more his gaze wandered, the more he noticed splashes of color amongst the funereal black and as he studied the scene, he realized something. Those who stood out so singularly, conspicuous by the lushly tinted shades of their clothing, were the center of attention. From each colorful hub radiated a pool of darkness, crows vying for the attention of a peacock.

Pleased by this semi-poetic analogy, he searched for and found the bar, made a beeline for it and hauled himself onto a stool. Catching the eye of the bartender, he offered a tipsy smile. "Hi there."

"Hello," the man replied as he came to stand before his new customer.

Toby's awareness perked up at the smooth baritone of the man's voice, and he nearly shivered in the wake of the piercing eyes expertly perusing and sizing him up.

"Are you in the right place? After Hours is across the street."

Absorbed in staring at the man, Toby managed a distracted, "Hmm?"

Indicating Toby's suit and tie, he elaborated. "Businessmen. They usually gather over there. It seems more your type of place."

Following the direction of the finger pointed at him, Toby glanced down at himself then back at the bartender. "Oh, I see what you mean. Actually, I just came from there. You prob'ly can't tell, but I've already had a drink or two."

"Hmm. Frankly, I thought that might be the case."

"Shhh. Don't tell anyone else." Toby tried to give him a conspiratorial wink, but found more than an owlish blink beyond his capacity. Undaunted he continued. "But you know, you're not exactly blending either. You're wearing purple," he stage-whispered, eyeing the man's shirt. It was a button down style, which he wore quite casually with the top two buttons undone, the tails out, and the sleeves rolled up.

"You mean I should be wearing black?" the bartender asked, and the smile he employed was so engaging Toby was momentarily stunned.

Being half snockered he'd failed to notice the full extent of the man's appeal. Here was a man far and away from ordinary. His were the kind of looks that invoked sighs of longing from some and unadulterated envy from others. His black hair of medium length -- parted just slightly left of center -- was swept back with just a few strands teasing the gently curved plane of his forehead. Neat brows presided over a pair of deep blue eyes. His nose was arrow straight, his lips full but masculine, his jaw line sharp. Six feet tall or thereabouts, his upper body, showcased by the tailoring of his shirt, appeared to be fit, his chest firm, shoulders broad, and waist trim. His forearms, exposed by his rolled up sleeves, were well defined, and his hands were large with long and what Toby was sure were gracefully competent fingers.

"Um... black? Yeah, I guess," was Toby's tardy response. Under normal circumstances he'd have found talking to such a good-looking man intimidating, but being under the influence had some advantages after all. "I would have thought your boss would want you to blend in more."

"Not really. He's easy-going about that kind of thing. Speaking of atmosphere, what brings you to a place like this... not that you're unwelcome."

"Thanks, I appreciate that, 'cause you see" -- Toby leaned forward and lowered his voice -- "I'm here on a mission."

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Vaaden Captives: Susan by Jessica Coulter Smith

Vaaden Captives: Susan

by Jessica Coulter Smith

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-563-1

Genre(s): Sci-Fi

Series: Vaaden Captives

Length: Novella

Susan St. James has lived a hard life. The men she's known have proven themselves to be faithless liars, manipulators, and even abusive at times. When she's taken captive and transported to Vaaden, a planet in another galaxy, she figures not much has changed for her. Sylon, a male Vaaden warrior, comes to the holding cell to claim one of the slaves for his own. He chooses Susan, liking her willingness to please him. It doesn't take long for Sylon to realize his captive is passionate and full of vivaciousness. However, Sylon has a temper, and after Susan is injured, he realizes that she means more to him than she should.
Vaaden Captives: Susan

Jessica Coulter Smith

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 Jessica Coulter Smith

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'd been held captive in the dank holding cell on Vaaden for far longer than I liked, so I was pleased to see the Vaaden warriors. My cellmates quaked in terror next to me and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. It was doubtful either of them would make it on this harsh planet. Thanks to the translation machine on the wall, I'd heard enough talk to realize we would be sold either as sex slaves or prostitutes. Honestly, considering some of the guys I had dated, being a man's sex slave didn't bother me, especially if there was a chance I would be taken care of.

The first man stepped into the cell, a good six inches taller than my five-foot-six frame. He wasn't as tall as the other two. His eyes were the color of a sunset and seemed to burn into me. Neatly brushed chocolate hair framed his face, and his features were pleasing; his full mouth was kissable. His skin was a dark bronze and I wondered if he worked outside.

He quickly dismissed Sorcha and Enid and came to stand before me. Reaching out, he fondled my breasts with his large, warm hands, and I felt my nipples pucker in response. He seemed to be satisfied and shoved me to my knees. I knew what he wanted before he asked and I shivered in anticipation. He unfastened his pants and his large, thick cock sprang free, just begging for attention.

"Suck me," he commanded.

I licked my lips and leaned forward, taking him into my mouth. I sucked and licked him, enjoying myself immensely. When he was close to finding his release, he grabbed a handful of my hair and shoved himself further into my mouth. I felt his warm cum shoot down my throat.

"Swallow it all," he said roughly.

I was only too happy to comply. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sorcha watching with a mixture of horror and fascination. If my mouth hadn't been full, I would have grinned. I wondered what she would think if she knew I'd practically had to whore myself out to keep a roof over my head and food on the table. A line of drug dealer and alcoholic boyfriends had littered my past. Apartments infested with roaches and rats were the norm for me. I'd definitely been in worse situations.

When the Vaaden was finished, he fastened his pants and hauled me to my feet. Facing the guard, he said, "This one is mine."

The guard looked at me. "Is that what you want? Or would you prefer a life serving many?"

"I'll go with him." I felt like saying duh! What woman would prefer to be fucked by hundreds instead of belonging to just one guy?

The guard nodded and motioned for us to leave the cell. The ground under my feet was rough and cold, but I didn't care since I was free from that wretched cell. Outside, the double suns shone brightly, nearly blinding me. I winced and covered my face as best I could. Sensing my distress, my savior lifted me into his arms and carried me the rest of the way to my new living quarters.

When we reached my new living space, he set me down on my feet once more. The door opened with a whoosh and he ushered me inside, and then flipped a switch inside the door I had learned activated the translator.

The apartment-like space was on the plain side, but seemed functional. Honestly, it was better than some of the places I'd called home. If I didn't have to share my bed with rats or bugs, it was a step in the right direction.

"This is your new home."

The snarky side of me wanted to say something bitchy, but I refrained -- barely.

"My home? Not your home?"

He shook his head. "My home is with my wife."

Well, hell. It figured I would have to share him. That didn't sit well with me, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. I'd hoped to have him all to myself. He was a nice-looking guy and I'd wanted things to be different. My previous boyfriends had all cheated on me. Of course, on a planet where I was just a slave it had been silly of me to think that perhaps my owner might belong to me and only me.

"So, if you live with your wife, how often will I see you?" I asked as I looked around.

He leaned against a wall and watched me. "Often enough."

Friday, January 21, 2011

How Not to Date a Fae by Stephanie Burke

How Not to Date a Fae

by Stephanie Burke

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-553-2

Genre(s): Paranormal

Theme(s): Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay and Lesbian

Length: Novella

After lies, deceit and betrayal drive Ario from the only home he knows, he is determined never to look back, to dissociate himself from the people who made his life hell, and to never use magic again.

But as the saying goes, Man plans, the Gods laugh -- and they're chortling over this one.

In his new home in Ireland, Ario suddenly finds himself plagued by pixies, magical tombs, and a man so different from any other he's ever known that their coming together can't be by chance.

Cailte was one of the Finnian army, Finn McCool's right hand, and after waking from his centuries-long sleep, the large warrior found himself at the mercies of a different time and of a man unlike any other.

Their pairing might be ordained by fate, but it's up to them to forge a bond to protect them both when Ari's past threatens to destroy them both. Together they might be powerful enough to defy the gods, and maybe Ario will learn that dating a Fae isn't so bad.

How Not to Date a Fae

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.

Ario moaned, his head flying back, his shoulder-length black hair falling to frame his face in ebony locks of silk. Sweat lent his body a golden aura that was picked up and reflected in the light of the five candles that lit his darkened bedroom, creating a spotlight for a one-man show that no one would ever see.

Or so he thought.

He squeezed his eyes shut as his arousal and loneliness seemed to fill his chest. He concentrated on one and pushed the other away, his hand pulling ever more rapidly at his hot, throbbing dick, which had been in an unusual state of arousal all damn day.

Nothing he did made his dick behave -- not the cold showers, not the hard, backbreaking labor, not the thought of all he'd left behind to venture here into the wilds. Nothing worked, so he was forced to resort to one of his most hated and beloved activities.

A sobbing cry left his lips as he rose to his knees, his thighs spreading wide as he pounded away at his dick. He ran his free hand over his chest, pulling at his nipple rings, hissing as the small pain drove him closer to what he desired but not far enough to topple him over the edge.

He tugged harder, almost angrily, and his dick got harder, the precum flowing more furiously, but he was no closer to release. He was almost sobbing as the tension built with no release in sight. He was afraid he would go mad before he obtained his elusive orgasm.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing and falling with the sweat that freely fell from his body as his hand released his balls -- and then it struck.

Combined pain and pleasure, the ultimate agony mingled with the ultimate ecstasy. The electric sensation ran through his body; he lost all control and fell to the damp sheets below him. The screams that tore from his mouth were both rapturous and agonized as he sobbed out his body's release.

"No more," he gasped between sobs as the sensitivity in his body began to decrease, as his screaming nerves subsided into the soreness that would plague the surface of his skin for days. "No more."

"No more," a small voice promised as its owner leaned against the window. Eyes no larger than copper pennies gleamed with determination as tiny hands pressed against the glass. Then, quick as a flit, the tiny being was gone, its silvery gleam lost in the night sky, like so many dancing fireflies. It had work to do. The decision had been made.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

New Reviews for Changeling Press 1/17/11


New Reviews for Changeling Press 1/17/11

Congratulations to Cat Marsters, Julia Talbot, Belinda McBride, Sharon Maria Bidwell, Selena Illyria and Brannan Black!

DREAMING OF YOU by Cat Marsters
Four Cherries from Whipped Cream Reviews

[I was] hooked from the prologue. It's such a seductive addiction that it is easily and pleasurably read in an afternoon.

JUST SEMANTICS by Julia Talbot
Reviewed by "You Gotta Read" Reviews

This is erotica at its best. This story makes an excellent before bed read.

Five Cherries from Whipped Cream Reviews

I could go on and on, about how much I love this book. Belinda McBride takes you on a mindblowing ride that you simply have to experience for yourself.

MAROONED by Sharon Maria Bidwell
Four & ½ Cherries from Whipped Cream Reviews

The gradual seduction was quite hot and yet tender. The best thing I liked about this story is how love really can occur anywhere and with anyone.

TARTAN MATE by Selena Illyria
Four Cherries from Whipped Cream Reviews

It was a ton of fun to read and I had a great time watching Katherine bring Iain to heel. Tartan Mate appealed to me on many levels.

Four & ½ Cherries from Whipped Cream Reviews

I was caught hook, line and sinker and enjoyed the ride through and through. Brannan Black weaves a great tale with fantastic characters full of emotion and depth.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Stranger than Fiction by Silvia Violet

Stranger Than Fiction

by Silvia Violet

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-542-6

Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Vampires

Length: Hot Flash

Vivian's characters have often talked to her in the past, but never like this. Niall, the vampire hero of her current story, is invading her dreams and pestering her every waking minute to finish his story. He feels so real that she begins to wonder if she's losing her mind. After an amazing, erotic dream, she wakes with bite marks on her neck. Has locking herself away with only her stories for company finally driven her mad or could Niall possibly be real?

Stranger Than Fiction

Silvia Violet

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 Silvia Violet

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.

Vivian's heart pounded. Was he going to kiss her?

Niall wrapped one of her curls around his finger and tugged gently. Come here.

She forced herself to raise her gaze from his full lips. His rich brown eyes burned with heat. Her breath caught. She couldn't look away. Never look a vampire in the eye. Wasn't that a rule?

That's a myth. We don't need eye contact to touch your mind.

His voice inflamed her, sending electric current through her body. Her pussy tightened with painful need. She was wet and ready, and all he'd done was look at her.

He smiled at her, and she feared she might combust. His thick, dark hair and pale, smooth skin made him look as seductive as any movie vampire. She reached up, sliding her hands into his hair, needing to confirm that it felt as silky as it looked.

He groaned when she touched him and leaned down. Closer... closer. She felt as if the world were moving in slow motion. Then his lips touched hers, and she felt his need as strongly as if he'd poured it into her.

You taste so good. He licked and nibbled at her lower lip with agonizing meticulousness. She wanted more.

She slid her hands down his back and cupped his buttocks, pulling him to her. He growled and deepened the kiss. She rubbed against him, reveling in the hardness of his cock against her belly.

His lips grew more demanding. She slid her tongue into his mouth, wishing she had the courage to slide it along his fangs and see what the taste of her blood would do to him.

He broke their kiss and nibbled the side of her jaw. Then his tongue caressed the side of her neck. Her heart hammered against her chest. He was going to bite her.

Suddenly, he pushed her away. His eyes were dark, filled with hunger. His breathing ragged. I can't. Not now.

She tried to go to him, but her feet were glued to the floor. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't take a step. Niall's image started to fade.

No! Vivian's eyes flew open. She sat up with a gasp. Damn it!

Why did she always wake up before she and her fantasy lover could consummate their relationship? At least he'd actually kissed her this time instead of just talking. He did enough of that during the day while insisting she write down everything he told her.

She sighed. Speaking of writing, she should probably get up and get to work. But she permitted herself a few more moments to linger in bed reliving their first kiss. Even if it was a dream, it sure had felt real at the time.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Assassins in Lace: Impressions by Jocelyn Michel

Assassins in Lace: Impressions

by Jocelyn Michel

Cover art: Reneé George

ISBN: 978-1-60521-576-1

Genre(s): Paranormal

Theme(s): Vampires, Werewolves

Series: Assassins in Lace

Length: Novella

Vampire Chantel Mathis, aka Karma, is an assassin who always gets her werewolf. Tonight she's posing as an interior decorator applying for a position at Aubrey Enterprises. Her interviewer and mark is Ren Aubrey, the delectable CEO and owner. Though Ren plays the role of savvy businessman to perfection, Karma knows there's more there than meets the eye. This werewolf is really an assassin so deadly that the vamps have nicknamed him Slayer.

What Karma doesn't know is that Ren is exactly her type. Worse, he's onto her. So the moment he steps into the room, she struggles not only to keep her wits about her, but to keep her distance. It doesn't help that Ren is every bit as beguiled and perfectly willing for their business relationship to be much more. Will Karma be able to resist Slayer's many charms? Or will their night of passion turn deadly?

Assassins in Lace: Impressions

Jocelyn Michel

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 Jocelyn Michel

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

All of us vampires hated having the man on top -- top floor of the Aubrey Building in St. Louis, that is. The man? Ren Aubrey. Though humans called Ren by his given name, vamps knew him as Slayer, the ruthless killer who'd tracked down and murdered over fifty wily female assassins trying to murder him -- and in only six months. Why didn't we want him in that penthouse office suite of his? Too much daytime security to outsmart.

Oh, how the Assassins in Lace, as we called ourselves, wanted to snuff that guy. But no assassin, one of ours or not, had succeeded so far -- for several reasons. First, Ren wasn't just that guy. He was that shapeshifting guy, as in a crafty, ridiculously powerful werewolf. Second, deadly werewolf bodyguards -- we called them watchdogs -- protected him and his place of business during the day. Third, when he prowled the city at night, alone and deliciously vulnerable, he somehow stayed under our radar. I'd actually crossed paths with him once and only by accident -- just long enough to make a positive ID and be glad he hadn't seen me. Not that I feared him. I feared no werewolf. I simply had a healthy respect for this one's diabolical contribution to our rising death toll.

Thanks to a war that had raged for centuries, vamps and weres of all kinds hunted each other mercilessly. I often wondered what started the bloody feud and how we'd kept it and our very existence secret from humans. Hatred for the enemy ran rampant through vamp veins, thick as our crimson blood. We never questioned or resisted it. And even I -- along with an army of other vamps, both genders, embraced it. It was the reason I'd chosen werewolf assassin as my night job.

Because of my high success rate, my fellow assassins, who'd long ago given me the nickname Karma, nominated me to finish off pesky Ren Aubrey once and for all. I'd schemed for months and watched his every daytime move. I'd also researched him on the internet. After certain preparations, I made my first deadly move late one afternoon on a Friday in December. Yeah, vamps can survive in sunlight. In fact, we can even tan.

"I have a four-thirty appointment to interview for the decorator position," I said to the petite werewolf who served as receptionist.

My gaze swept the massive foyer of the Aubrey building, deeply shadowed by the setting sun streaming through the western windows. I eyed the décor with disgust. Though tasteful, it bored me to tears and screamed retro tacky. I assumed that Ren, who'd just inherited Aubrey Enterprises from his deceased father, wanted to modernize the place. I didn't blame him.

"Your name, please." Raquel, according to the tag pinned on her tasteless, low-cut blouse, disdainfully eyed my couture black business suit and my honey-blonde hair, twisted up and fastened with a diamond clip. Behind her stood an enormous watchdog.

"Chantel Mathis."

She looked down and checked my name off her list. "Mr. Aubrey is expecting you. Right this way, please."

My resume had earned me this interview; my smarts would ensure that I made it through alive. For starters, I'd drunk the blood of the were-panther I retired last night, something vamps never did. Drinking the blood of any were equated to drinking dog piss, in our opinion, but it did help mask vamp aroma for a couple of days.

In addition, I'd sprayed myself down with Beguiled, a perfume designed by vamps for vamps to help neutralize our distinctive scent. I also wore venom-infused lipstick and nail polish. On top of all that, I'd avoided the obvious clichés that set us apart: leather everything, stripper heels, too much cleavage. So many female vamps dressed to Goth extreme, a natural for flashy us. I never did... at least not when I hunted. Might as well have bloodsucker tattooed across my forehead, right?

As for my fangs, no one could control them the way I could. Fangs, like cocks, were reflexive, which meant they sometimes popped up at inopportune times. Mine never did.

In addition, I'd done my homework and probably knew more about Ren than he knew about himself -- his likes and dislikes, his vices, his haunts and his hideaways. This wealthy bachelor werewolf loved to party hearty, resulting in internet speculation and exposure. Apparently he could charm the habit off a nun. And though I'd never be one of those, I definitely had my work cut out for me. As for the actual business of Aubrey Enterprises, nothing I'd read anywhere so much as hinted at what it might be, so that remained an riddle I sincerely hoped to solve.

Instead of escorting me to the penthouse office suite, Raquel led me to a large conference room on the first floor. A watchdog accompanied us, but stopped at the door as I entered it and set my portfolio and designer bag on the rich mahogany table.

"Mr. Aubrey has another appointment at five. That only gives you a half hour with him which is why I tried to set up an earlier meeting time."

So she'd arranged the interview. "No problem. If I can't nail this account in thirty minutes, then I don't deserve it."

With a shrug and a dubious look, Raquel left.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

The Marker by Shelby Morgen

The Marker

by Shelby Morgen

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-575-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure

Theme(s): Dark Desire, Cougar

Length: Novel

1974: Peace, love, sex, drugs -- and murder -- at Commune in the heart of West Virginia.

Hope knew she should have killed Jesse the night he used her as his marker in a poker game with Spike. When Spike won that marker, he stole Hope's heart.

Spike wanted more than just a weekend with Hope. He wanted forever. That was more than Hope could promise. A man like Spike, a good man, would never understand the evil a man like Jesse was capable of.

1989: Now he's First Sergeant Sam Callaghan, and he's back.

When a chance meeting drops Fiona Donovan into the arms of Sam Callaghan, West Virginia State Police, their past twists in on both of them, threatening to tear apart their worlds, for better or worse.

Hope -- Fiona -- was the love of his life, the woman who can still rock his world with a single kiss. When he's around her, Sam forgets to think. But first and foremost Sam's always been a cop. If Sam discovers Fiona really did murdered Jesse, will he be able to arrest her? There are a few things in love's way -- like her dead husband's missing body, over a million dollars in cash, and the IRA...

Publisher's Note: This title has been previously released and has been re-edited for release with Changeling Press.

The Marker

Shelby Morgen

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 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.

The asphalt felt slightly sticky with heat under his black oxfords. The air in the administration building was already stuffy, though summer wasn't officially here yet. Sam stood waiting at the front desk while the receptionist called for a junior officer who would escort him back to the operations building.

Brenda, his dispatcher, had asked him out a few weeks ago. A man couldn't help noticing how well Brenda filled out that uniform. She wasn't Hope, but she'd been there, been part of his life, every day for the last fifteen years. If she hadn't given up on him yet, Sam decided, he'd accept. Hell. Maybe he'd ask her. He wasn't getting any younger. Besides, there was that betting pool the squad had going. He wasn't supposed to know about it, but there was little in his barracks that escaped his notice.

"Can I help you, Officer?"

Sam pushed his smoke-colored sunglasses to the top of his head long enough to let his eyes adjust to the relatively dim interior florescent lighting. He looked down -- and down again.

The woman who stood behind the reception desk now had to be less than five feet tall. She stood admiring him with pale blue eyes that were just a little too friendly.

Where had she come from? How had she managed to simply appear right in front of him? He really was losing his edge. "I'm already signed in and stamped," Sam explained. He held out his fist so she could see the ink that looked like a temporary tattoo across the back of his hand.

Her warm appraisal made him uncomfortable, like a piece of meat in a butcher's display case. He always got a sick, guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach when women looked at him that way. He slipped his hand into his pocket, fingering a worn silver chain.

Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee...

He shifted his gaze away from direct contact with the woman at the front desk, studying the pictures on the wall behind her. Anything but meeting the woman's watercolor eyes. Anything not to encourage her.

The pictures held the usual faces. The Governor. The Commissioner of Corrections. The names changed from one institution to another, but the faces stayed pretty much the same. "Sam Callaghan, West Virginia State Police. I'm waiting for --"

Except that one. Sam stopped mid-sentence as his eyes scanned the picture again. Employee of the Month. "Fiona J. Donovan."

The woman blinked twice. "Excuse me?"

He was hardly aware he'd read the name aloud. Sam rallied himself, forcing his breathing back under control, willing his pulse rate back to normal. He turned his most charming smile on the little woman. Her badge said she was a unit manager. Doris White. "I'm waiting for an escort back to Interview, Ms. White, but I'd really like to see Fiona Donovan while I'm here if you could arrange that for me."

Doris studied him for a moment longer, her smile fading. "Fiona's in records, pulling some case files for me. I'll take you back."

Sam nodded curtly, dismissing the woman as if she didn't exist. Because, for him, she didn't exist. His mouth went dry. His chest felt tight, as if there were some great weight pressing on it. He slid his hand back into his pocket. Hail Mary, full of grace...

The hall seemed like the longest walk he'd ever taken. You're just imagining the resemblance. You've been wrong before.

The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women...

Why would she be here? He'd thought to find her in a restaurant, or a shop somewhere or -- or anywhere else. Anything but actually working in law enforcement.

Hope? A caseworker named Fiona Donovan? That can't be Hope. Not here.

Doris waved at a doorway where a sign on the wall said Records. "I'll be around the corner in the copy room if you need me," she offered.


His heart was beating so fast it was bound to explode.

Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.

He stood staring, drinking in the sight of her, waiting for her to feel his eyes watching, waiting for her to look up, recognize him, call his name.

Control. Get yourself under control. Slow, deep breaths. Can't let her see you falling apart like this.

Her name was different, her hair was shorter, just past shoulder length, but she couldn't change her face -- the face that had haunted his dreams. She looked a little older, naturally, but not so much older. Not as much older as he'd been feeling lately. She'd gained some weight, but only enough to give her curves a fuller, softer line. He'd have recognized her anywhere. His arms ached to hold her. He had to try three times before he could find the voice to speak her name.

"Ms. Donovan?"

Friday, January 14, 2011

Protect and Serve: Kitty Kat by Anne Kane

Protect and Serve: Kitty Kat

by Anne Kane

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-502-0

Genre(s): Paranormal

Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Men and Women in Uniform

Series: Protect and Serve

Length: Novella

Kat hasn't always been a stray -- but times are tough, and when she lost her job, her no-good boyfriend dumped her. Now she lives in a deserted basement and scrounges for food behind the restaurants in the better section of town, while attending school during the day.

Jake feeds scraps of his dinner to the fluffy little con artist from time to time as he walks his beat, and he can't get the sassy stray off his mind. He feels a strange affinity for the feisty little kitty so he decides to trap her and tame her. What he doesn't realize is that she's a shifter, and she'll con his heart right out of his chest.


Protect and Serve: Kitty Kat

Anne Kane

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2011 Anne Kane

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.

Jake hunkered down behind the glassless window, setting the cup of steaming take-out coffee down beside him. Stakeouts were nothing new, but this one was different. The suspect wasn't human; wasn't a suspect really. It was hard to believe that a hard-nosed, cynical Irish beat cop would go to all this trouble to capture one scruffy, ill-tempered scrap of a kitty cat.

He took a sip of the coffee, cursing under his breath when it burned his tongue. When he'd decided to go ahead with this scheme, he'd rigged a live animal trap from descriptions in a book he'd found in one of the old library buildings. Libraries were one of the first things to go when society broke down, but the books were still there, covered in dust and spider webs.

Bait was easy -- he'd been tossing scraps to the little feline for over six months now and he knew her preferences. Funny little thing, she preferred her meat cooked. Chicken, fried like they used to do it in those fast food places you saw on history shows, would draw her into the cage, and once the trap door shut, he'd have her. A soft thud alerted him and he stilled, his eyes narrowing as he searched the shadows of the deserted warehouse.

The little stray leapt into view from the top of a pile of dusty cartons. Her fur stuck up in unkempt clumps, affirming his decision to capture her for her own good. Once he got her home, he could look after her properly and put a little meat on her scrawny frame. Her attention flicked to the lump of chicken in the trap but she took her time, scouting the area first. Tail lashing back and forth, ears pricked forward on high alert, she stalked the perimeter of the warehouse space.

Jake suppressed a chuckle even as he respected the tiny creature's security precautions. Life had become much tougher after the collapse of the World Economic Council, and this was one of the roughest parts of the city. She might be small, but his soon-to-be little pet was a survivor.

Satisfied there was no imminent danger, the little cat padded toward the makeshift trap, her head tilted quizzically to the side. Probably wondering what this new contraption in her territory was and why it was there. Her nose twitched as she inched forward, stalking the chicken as if it were a mouse.

Jake held his breath as she entered the trap, her attention centered on the food. It seemed like forever before her entire body was inside the cage and the gate slammed down, ensnaring her just as she took the first dainty bite of the prize. Tiny as she was, the feline exploded into a snarling, spitting bundle of pissed-off fur, and Jake chuckled at the display of temper. He guessed she'd weigh less than ten pounds dripping wet, yet she acted as though she thought she were a full-sized tigress.

He unfolded himself from the chair and took another sip of his coffee. Now that she was secured, he wasn't in any hurry to face the little wildcat. Sauntering over to the trap, he stared down at his prize.