Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Razor's Edge: Dark Veil by Charisma Knight

Razor's Edge: Dark Veil
by Charisma Knight

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-915-8
Genre(s): Razor's Edge Press, Paranormal, BDSM
Theme(s): Interracial/MultiCultural, Vampires, Dark Desire
Length: Hot Flash


Apologizing to Josef was the easy part. Becoming a human sex slave to a sex-crazed vampire? That was a challenge, one that Samira Dupree was sure she was up to. Would she be able to walk away from the demon with her mortal soul intact?

Monday, November 28, 2011

Faerie by Sharon Marie Bidwell

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-723-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Magic, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella

When Adam overreacts to his mother's matchmaking owing to stress, and insults an old friend, little does he know he's closer to the truth than he thinks. Calling Lane a fairy isn't the slight he thinks it is. Adam has very clear ideas concerning the type of man he's attracted to, and Lane isn't it.
Little does he know he's also goaded the other man into acting on feelings long suppressed. For both of them, what they feel during sex and afterwards brings more than a little magic into their lives. If they can survive their own mistaken beliefs and prejudices -- and outside threats -- they might just find something lasting together, and Adam might have to change his mind over the importance of physical attraction and what it means.
While Adam's shop burns around him, can he salvage more than the precious items for sale?

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Cirque Caprice: Ringmaster by Julia Talbot

Cirque Caprice: Ringmaster
by Julia Talbot

Cover art: Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-710-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense, Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Series: Cirque Caprice
Length: Novella

Amadeo may be the most charismatic ringmaster Cirque Caprice has ever seen, but security head Jon doesn't trust him. Jon knows too many of Amadeo's secrets. Amadeo knows he's changed, but he has no idea he has to prove it to Jon until it may be too late. Can Amadeo show Jon that a leopard can change its spots?
Cirque Caprice: Ringmaster
Julia Talbot
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Julia Talbot

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

"No. No, I don't think his background check was as clean as you..." Jon trailed off, listening to Jake, the head security man for the corporation. In other words, his boss. He paced, the confines of his makeshift office seeming far too small. "No, it's just dodgy, is all. Nothing I can actually use. Sure. I'll keep an eye on him."
The hair rose on the back of his neck, and Jon turned to see Amadeo Perralo standing behind him. He held up a finger, trying to ignore the heat crawling up the back of his neck from being caught talking about the guy, and from how hot the man looked today.
"Okay. Yeah. No, I'm sure you're right. Bye." Jon hit the end button on his phone. "Can I help you?"
Amadeo sure tried to stare him down, strong jaw set, almost black eyes full of fire. "I certainly hope so. Why won't you sign off on the stage design?"
"It's not safe." While Jon did have reservations about the safety of the design, his main problem was Amadeo. The man posed far too much of a security risk. When someone ran away to join the circus, Jake might be not be too concerned with background checks, but Jon disagreed. A ringmaster had access to every part of the show. Amadeo should have check out more or less clean, but Jon knew things about the man that no one else seemed to care about. Jon didn't like secrets. No matter how attractive the package they came wrapped in.
"It's perfectly safe. This isn't the days of the old elephant and bear circus, my dear."
The patronizing tone made Jon grit his teeth. "Maybe not, but there are pyrotechnics and there's all sorts of equipment and shit. Those side-wing stairs..."
"Provide us with audience participation. You must leave them in."
"I must do what my boss tells me to do, and you are not him."
"That's pedantic bullshit."
Amadeo raised one jet-black brow. "I'm amazed you know the word."
"Oh, fuck you. You don't know squat about me." That did it; he was getting a hold of Jake again and telling him they weren't ready to run through their final dress rehearsal. He'd make a recommendation on Amadeo and then ask for a raise or a transfer. They didn't pay him enough for this constant aggravation. Amadeo was absolutely infuriating, from his complete resistance to paperwork to his penchant for hiring performers without consulting Jon first.
"Mmm. No. I'd do you, though."
Jon whirled to face Amadeo, his hands clenched into fists. "I swear to God, I am going to beat you to death."
"You're welcome to try." The evil gleam in Amadeo's eyes and the taunting grin on those pretty lips made Jon snap.
Jon actually took a swing at the man, a wild haymaker that was completely out of character for him, and completely at odds with his training. The blow connected, but not with Amadeo's face. Instead, his fist slapped against Amadeo's palm.
"Temper, temper," Amadeo murmured. "Very sexy."
"You -- I..." Jon was going to explode. He didn't trust this man, didn't like him, and he hated to admit it, but right now he wanted Amadeo sexually in the worst way.
"You and I, indeed. A very nice picture."
"Okay, I've had it. I am going to beat you until you can't see."
Amadeo kept the tight grip on Jon's hand, using it to draw him close enough that their chests touched. "Go ahead. Of course that's assault and will get you fired, but if you find it worthwhile..."
Jon's other hand moved before he even thought about it, flying in an arc toward Amadeo's face. He missed, which should have been impossible at that range, but it was almost like his hand had been deflected. Fucking bastard and his freaky "talent."
"I can think of so many uses for your hands, my dear. This is not one of them."
"You fucking -- mmph." Jon had no idea what he would have said, given the chance. Amadeo shoved the words right back down his throat, kissing him so hard he saw stars. His lips pressed back against his teeth, and Jon's eyes opened so wide with surprise that he could see every individual lash around Amadeo's eyes, could see the smooth texture of the man's skin, broken on his cheeks by dark stubble. Then he closed his eyes and let Amadeo have his mouth, opening up for the exploration. If he had been into purple prose he would call it a plundering.
He got his hands free, but instead of pushing Amadeo away, Jon clutched at the man's wide shoulders, his legs spreading so he could brace himself. His cock hardened, so fast it left him breathless and aching, his chest heaving with the need for air. The kiss eased just enough for him to gasp a few times, gulping in oxygen. Then Amadeo took his lips again, giving him no time to think. Thinking might be bad in a situation like this.
When they finally broke to breathe again, Amadeo reached down between them and squeezed Jon's cock through his black cargo pants. "Mmm. I knew you would be hot and hard. You taste like coffee and honey."
"Thanks for the color commentary." Christ, he'd lost his mind. Jon tried to get his hands to let go of Amadeo's shoulders, but it just wasn't happening. Traitor muscles.
"Are you the sort of man who doesn't like to talk during sex?" His cock got a nice hard squeeze. "I'm a talker, I'm afraid."
"I'm not having sex with you."
Amadeo pushed him back against the big desk he'd had brought in, the one luxury in his otherwise extremely mobile office. Folders, papers and what was possibly a stapler dug into Jon's back. "Oh, I disagree. In fact, I think we need to get started now."
"I don't think --"
Amadeo loomed over him, pressing down on his wrists, which were suddenly held captive in Amadeo's capable hands. "Don't think."

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Bunny Tails 5: Hare-Raising Finale by Camille Anthony

Bunny Tails 5: Hare-Raising Finale

by Camille Anthony

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-90521-706-2
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense, BDSM
Theme(s): Ménage, Werewolves, BBW
Series: Bunny Tails
Length: Novella
Page Count: 92

Vance is in the doghouse with Ouida. He's made a mistake that might cost him the love of his life. Just when he thinks things can't get any worse, an old enemy shows up, injuring his friend and his former Lieutenant Xen, and kidnapping their mate.
Vance has shown mercy before, but now it's time to bring the curtain down on this saga of vengeance. No matter what it takes, Vance is going to convince Xen to forgive him, get their mate back, and teach his enemy once and for all, it's a fatal mistake to mess with this Alpha's family.
Patrick Smith will soon learn werewolves have no enemies... because they eat them.
Bunny Tails 5: Hare-Raising Finale
Camille Anthony
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Camille Anthony

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.

"Xen, we need to talk. Privately, please."
The black wolf turned to face me, ears perked forward, questioning glance sharp. I knew the tone of my voice gave me away. Without a word, he shook himself, shifted to Skin guise and pulled on some clothes, and slipped on shoes. With a quiet yip to alert Brax and Usher, who were watching a movie on low, so as not to disturb a sleeping Chase, we left the apartment.
"What's up?" We'd barely cleared the walkway leading to the complex's enclosed garden area before he'd launched into his questioning. "There's not much we couldn't share with Brax and Usher, but it's not them so much as Chase might overhear. I figure it has to be personal, and that means something to do with Ouida."
I sighed, dreading his reaction, but I had to set things right with him. The only way to do that was to just come clean. "One of the pups Ouida is carrying is yours. Somehow, you managed to bond with her even though she'd already bonded with me."
Xen froze in place. The astounded look on his face would have been comical if this situation hadn't been so serious. At his side, his hands bunched into fists. The tension radiating throughout his body was evident by the bristling fur at his ruff, only partially hidden by his shirt collar. His voice came out more like a growl. "What are you saying?"
"You've felt it all along. The connection between the two of you is too strong to ignore. That's why you sent her a phone to stay in touch, knowing it was against our laws. And it's why she refused to give that phone up, even when I demanded it of her point blank. It's why you haven't been able to take another female all this time. You get blue balls whenever you think of her, but the minute you try to fuck someone who's not Ouida, you go limp as a noodle."
Xen started shaking. "How can you know that? Have you had Brax and Usher reporting on me?"
I shook my head. "Nothing so convoluted. I know because I'm the same. No other female interests me. Even when I wasn't fucking her while she healed, I couldn't even think of another, of easing my needs with someone not Ouida, without losing whatever erection I had."
Xen looked away. "I've tried to get her out of my head. I swear I've fought my desire for her, knowing how dishonorable it is." He turned back, met my eyes. "Your friendship means the world to me. I know there's no way we could ever be friends if I tried again to take her from you, and if I was inclined to try, Ouida's made her choice clear in that matter. So why are you telling me this now?" His brows drew together in a frown. "Come to think of it, why are you only just now getting around to telling me this?"
"Because I've only just become aware of it. No." I stopped, refusing to continue wallowing in the lie. "That's not wholly true. I've known for some while that one of the pups was yours. How could I not? I was prepared to raise it as mine."
"And you didn't think I had the right to know a child of my lineage had been created?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off a headache. "Xen, I acknowledge I was wrong in my actions. I've made more mistakes than I can count, so can we save the recriminations for later? Let me just get through this as quickly as possible."
He strode away from me, causing me to lengthen my stride to keep up. I grabbed his arm, forcing him to face me once more. "Damn it, Xen, do you think this is easy? Ouida is my mate. She is bearing my pup. Yet when we last communicated mind-to-mind, I saw the bond she shares with you, shining as bright as the one stretching between her and I."
Xen's eyes were bright with tears, his face wet where they trailed over the sharp blade of his cheekbone. "I've felt her, here." He thumped his chest, continuing to speak through his tears. "Every single day since I parted from her, I've suffered a constant ache because I couldn't be with her. I'd see something beautiful and turn to share it with her, and she wouldn't be there." He drew in a deep breath as he turned away, hiding his face if not his emotions. "I hate you, Vance."
I didn't blame him. I also didn't believe him. We had too much shared history between us. We had Ouida between us. "You're going to have a problem living with me if that's true."
He spun back around, expressions chasing one after another across his face, hope the uppermost. "Living with you?"
"I've spoken with Ouida. She's willing to accept both of us as equal mates, if you and I can come to an agreement about it."
Xen looked skeptical. "It's a common practice during the Fertility Festival, but to share a mate when the festival is over? It's never been done."
"We don't know that. All we know is this pack's tradition, and we've both learned recently that our pack does not make up the whole of our people." I stepped into Xen's personal space, grabbed his forearms. "If we're willing to do this, willing to make this arrangement work, then no one has the right to dictate how we choose to live." I smiled. It was a baring of teeth the other wolf recognized for what it was: a challenge. "Since when have we followed? We've always led. Why change now?"
"Are you really willing to do this, Vance? You're okay with sharing Ouida with me?"
He doubted my sincerity and I didn't blame him. "At first, I confess I felt some resentment, but no longer."
"What changed your mind?"

Monday, November 21, 2011

Paranormal Mates Society Vol II by Isabella Jordan, Kyla Logan, Michelle Hoppe, and Lia Connor

 Paranormal Mates Society Vol. II (Collection)
by Isabella Jordan, Kyla Logan, Michelle Hoppe and Lia Connor

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-684-3
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Shapeshifters
Series: Paranormal Mates Society Multi-Author
Length: Collection
Page Count: 275


Paranormal Mates Society, where finding the love of your life is supernatural, super easy. Long to soar to the heavens with the match of your dreams? Log on to ParanormalMatesSociety.com!
A snowleopard finds her werewolf and hopes he's not a killer, a mer finds love with a selkie seeking a mate, a daughter rebels and sparks fly when the man of her dreams steps off the screen and swims into her life, a sailor, lured in by the song of a siren, finds himself ensnared in a life and a love that never ends -- it's Satan's own online dating service, and chaos has never been quite this hot!
Paranormal Mates Society Vol. II
All rights reserved.
Excerpt from Sea of Love by Kyla Logan
Copyright ©2011 Kyla Logan

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.
Even though she was expecting the ring on her phone, she still jumped when it rang. Answering, she closed her eyes, waiting for the first sound of his voice.
"Danara? It's Taine."
Neptune, he did talk like Sean Connery, but oh so much more sexy. She felt a wave of sensation run through her body and the flush of moisture in her pussy on hearing his voice.
"Danara, are you there?"
Opening her eyes, she met his and answered his question with a shaky smile.
"Yes, I am here I was just..." She broke off unable to say anything more. She reached up with her hand and gently touched his face on the screen and heard his indrawn breath. This was an amazing experience, seeing him and talking to him at the same time. Thousands of miles apart.
"I know, love. I know. I can't believe that I have finally found my mate," Taine whispered in her ear. "You do feel the same, don't you? I'm not the only one who is sure that..."
"Of course I feel the same. I've never reacted this way before with any man," Danara cut in, pleased that he felt as she did. "It's just that this was so unexpected. And to hear your voice, well, it sent flutters down my body." Blushing, she stopped before she completely embarrassed herself.
"I'm sitting here very uncomfortable, so knowing you feel the same doesn't make me feel so bad." Taine laughed in her ear.
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry." Danara wasn't sure what to say to him after he admitted to having a hard-on at the sound of her voice. Well, she could ask him to keep talking while she masturbated, but she was too shy to suggest that to him!
"It's not your fault, little one. Just the way my body is reacting to yours. There's nothing we can do about it. Unless..."
Danara waited for Taine to continue, but she already knew what he was loath to put into words for fear she would be insulted. After all, he didn't know her, not really. He just recognized her as his mate. She decided she would be the one to make the first move.
"Watch me, Taine. If this is not what you meant, let me know immediately," Danara whispered huskily, then stood up and started to unbutton her dress.
Hearing the groan in her ear told her she hadn't misunderstood what he wanted. Slipping the sleeveless dress off her shoulders, Danara let it slide down and off her body, then sat back down and waited for his reaction.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Shadowed: Frenzied by Kate Hill

Shadowed: Frenzied
by Kate Hill

Cover art: Zuri
ISBN: 978-1-60521-735-2
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Dark Desire
Series: Shadowed
Length: Novella
Page Count: 89


Every new soul deserves a chance.
Born of two demons, Michael was smuggled from hell by an angel of mercy and raised on Earth. Aware of his parentage, Michael is torn between his desire for a normal life and his demonic nature.
Rich and sinfully sexy, he has cut himself off from relationships other than physical, satisfying his carnal needs by using an escort service that caters to strange and sometimes supernatural clientele. When one of his favorite escorts is brutally murdered, Michael uses his demonic skills to find her attacker, but someone believes he is the one to blame.
Britt is determined to bring her sister's murderer to justice, even if the police can't due to his airtight alibi and a lack of evidence. She knows Michael is to blame and goes undercover as an escort to prove his guilt and mete out punishment on her own, but can a woman with a lack of sexual experience convince a lustful demon she's for sale? More important, can she keep from falling in love with a man torn between good and evil?
Publisher's Note: Kate Hill's series Mate Marks, Mate Marks Cursed, Prowleryns, Inked, and Shadowed all share the same world and some of the same characters.
Shadowed: Frenzied
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.

Northlight Brook, Maine
Marla's tongue rolled over Michael's cock head, then tickled the ultra-sensitive underside. She licked the shaft as if it were a favorite treat, then engulfed the crown, drawing it deep into her hot, wet mouth.
Staring at her through half-closed eyes, Michael fought to control his inner demon while still enjoying her carnal attentions. "Use your teeth," he said, his voice almost a growl.
She did as he asked, raking her teeth along his shaft.
"Harder! And use your nails. You know how I like it."
Moaning softly, she lightly bit his cock and scraped her nails over his inner thighs, almost drawing blood. Michael groaned and closed his eyes. Pleasure and pain. He would never have one without the other. He just wasn't built that way. No one could truly accept his unleashed passion, so he needed to control the beast with pain while his bedmates fucked the man.
She wasn't biting quite hard enough, and her skilled tongue teased him to the brink. He burned and ached all over. To satisfy his demon, he reached into the leather box resting on the bedside table and tugged out a long, sharp needle. He closed his fist around it and gasped. Hot blood smeared against his palm.
"Michael." She lifted her head. A flash of concern passed through her light brown eyes. "Don't."
"Climb on," he said. "Do it. You want it. I can tell."
"Yeah, I want it."
The aroma of her juices and her floral perfume filled the room, spurring on his almost uncontrollable lust.
She straddled him and her satiny ass brushed against his rock-hard cock. Grasping his shaft, she adjusted her position and guided his cock head to her pussy. She was so fucking wet and hot that he slid in easily. Arching her head back, she moaned again and her muscles squeezed him in deeper.
Michael reached for another needle. He took her hand and curled it around the long, slender piece of metal, then wrapped his fist around hers and guided her hand to his chest.
"Please don't," she said.
"You specialize in pain. The flogging was fantastic."
"One of these days you're going to go too far and I don't want it to be with me."
"There's no such thing as too far. Not for a guy like me."
"Dude, you're flesh and blood, you know. Michael!" she snapped when he forced her to rake the needle across his chest.
He drew a sharp breath and smiled. His hips lunged upward, his cock thrusting deep inside her, rubbing and teasing her.
Marla's eyes closed halfway and she rocked her hips. "I love it when you fuck me," she said.
"I'm sure you say that to all the guys."
"Yeah, but when I'm with you I mean it," she panted, then leaned down and bit his lower lip in a way that drove him crazy. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her hard. Marla tossed the needle aside and caressed his chest.
She grasped his nipple rings and pulled them.
More pleasure-pain tore through Michael and his heart pounded. He tore the needle from his hand, grasped her waist and pushed her onto her back. Covering her mouth in a plundering kiss, he filled her with his cock. Her soft belly rolled upward, pressing against his muscled stomach.
"Hold me," he said. "I want to feel you, Marla. Dig your nails in and show me how much you love it when I fuck you."
An almost pleading look in her eyes, she shook her head, but he kissed her hard again and thrust faster, his cock rubbing her to the edge.
He paused, his hands braced on either side of her head, his breathing ragged. "Give me what I want and I'll give you what you want..."

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Immortal Steps by Kira Stone

Immortal Steps
by Kira Stone

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-729-1
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella
Page Count: 78


In the modern age, Vampirism is a newly identified medical condition, but Kyle's old school. He is trained to protect the unturned from the greedy Hunters who would sell them on the black market -- one piece at a time.
Tain, a renowned celtic dancer, has bitter memories of his first crush -- the trainer who left him without a word. For years he's flung himself from one brief romantic encounter to another, the subject of tabloid gossip and speculation, always insisting he's not gay. When Kyle, Tain's old mentor, comes back into Tain's life, the last thing Tain wants is to give the man, or the vampire, a place in his heart.
Kyle vows to keep Tain safe, even if he has to do it from a distance. He's got to regain his protégé's trust if they're both going to stay alive. That is, if Tain's emerging vampiric powers don't kill them both first.
Immortal Steps
Kira Stone
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Kira Stone

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.

Alone, Kyle Lohan entered his private balcony at the Grampian Theater in Edinburgh, Scotland. As he sat down, the house lights dimmed briefly to signal a two minute warning before the show began. The box smelled faintly of sex, although he doubted anyone without a vampire's heightened senses could detect the erotic scent. Regardless, it was his own fault for sneaking in to watch rehearsals the previous evening. He'd been unable to resist tugging his cock in time with the heavy beat of the dancers as they practiced.
Okay, not all the performers excited him. Just one.
Tain O'Halloran.
Tonight Kyle had better prepared for the public performance, or so he'd thought. The quick release during his shower should have calmed his libido enough to sit through the performance without a hard-on. But as the first strains of a flute solo poured across the stage, the anticipation proved to be more than his body could resist and his cock rose to an aching fullness.
Tain. On stage. His stage.
How long had he waited for this? Worked for this? Dreamed of this? Sometimes it seemed like forever. And yet, very soon, the moment he'd been preparing for would arrive. One way or another, he would finally end his long pursuit.
He adjusted the fit of his tuxedo pants as the chorus sprinted across the stage. Their shoes hit the wooden floor in rhythmic, staccato beats, flirting with the notes. Kyle couldn't stop his own feet from scuffing against the floor in a pale imitation of the dancers' fancy footwork. Had his heart been prone to beat, it would have been racing as fast as the music.
A few more seconds...
Then, appearing out of a flash of light and smoke, bam! There he was. Tain O'Halloran. The male lead's long, sleek black hair floated behind him as he bounced in perfect synchronization with the little blond at his side. His grey eyes flashed with pure joy and a little arrogance. A smile curved his thin pink lips. And what that black leather did for his ass...
Kyle groaned softly as his cock twitched with longing, but he refused to slake his lust. Privacy wasn't an issue, even during a public performance. No, nothing mattered more than soaking up every moment of this night to tuck away in his memories. If the evening didn't go as planned, this could be all he had left to remember the talented young man come morning.
The first dance ended, and Kyle felt the tightness in his chest ease as Tain exited stage right. He'd reappear several times throughout the performance.
Kyle itched with anticipation for the next time, and the next... and the next... By the second act, Kyle could pick out Tain's unique sweat from the morass of odors permeating the air. The scent teased his cock like nothing else. His whole body tensed as he imagined jumping over the balcony's rail to land on top of the dancer's young bones, then fucking him to within an inch of his life, claiming him on stage for all the world to see.
Well, that's one way to announce that you're back in his life, Kyle thought with a rueful shake of his head. Definitely not one of your brightest ideas though.
If anything, such a bold, stupid move would get him thrown out of Tain's life for good. Kyle's goal was quite the opposite. If he had his way, nothing would separate him from Tain ever again.
The show ended with a roar of applause that pulled the dancers back on stage for a second encore. Vibrant and smiling under the lights, Tain looked like he could hold out for a third reprise if the director let him. However, the rest of the troupe wasn't fairing as well, so when the curtains closed again the house lights came up.
The show was over, but Kyle's performance of a lifetime was about to begin.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Dark Reign: Oathbound by Mychael Black

Dark Reign: Oathbound
by Mychael Black

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-707-9
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Dark Reign
Length: Hot Flash
Page Count: 24

Vaughn Burke is an Enforcer -- a werewolf working for Marcus Deleon and tasked to help their kind escape from the vampire Dalton Gray. When Marcus gives Vaughn a new case, it's not exactly what Vaughn expects.

Elian Levine is the guitarist for a metal band, but he has a secret no one knows. When he managed to escape Dalton Gray, he kept the truth hidden, even from his band mates. Now their need for a singer threatens to tear the lid off his closely-guarded past.
Dark Reign: Oathbound
Mychael Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Mychael Black

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

Elian Levine glared at the closed door where the latest loser had thankfully stepped through after a fucking awful audition.
"Dude, we've tried out every fucking singer in the city," Cole said as he set his bass down.
"I refuse to work with some half-assed idiot who can't be bothered to learn covers," Elian snapped. "If that makes me a God damned diva, so fucking be it!"
Behind his drum kit, Derick twirled a stick absently. "You're not a diva -- yet -- but Cole's right. We're running out of options. We've got gigs coming up, E."
Elian threw his hands up in the air, utterly frustrated. "Fuck it! I'll sing!"
"Uh, excuse me?"
He whirled around to face the next jackass to try out. "If you can't sing, might as well get the fuck out... Ah, shit."
"What Elian is trying to say," Cole interrupted, giving Elian the evil eye, "is hello. He's just in a pissy mood because most of the guys we've seen haven't bothered to even learn a single cover worth doing."
"Ah." The man extended a hand to Cole, though his gaze remained fastened on Elian. "Name's Vaughn Burke."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Cole Powers, bass. On drums, we have Derick Osborn."
"And Mr. Attitude is Elian," Vaughn finished. "We've... met."
Elian snorted. He switched his amp back on and waited until Cole was ready. "See if you can keep up."
He launched into "Sanitarium" -- classic Metallica. Not paying much attention, expecting Vaughn to stumble on the words, Elian nearly forgot the damn chords when the man began actually singing. Note for note, word for word, Vaughn nailed it. Without missing a beat, the man followed them through another three classic metal songs, and Elian grudgingly admitted they might have found their singer.
They wrapped up the final song, and Vaughn looked like he knew damn well what went through Elian's mind. Those eyes bore a hole through Elian, and he barely managed to suppress a shiver. He'd never heard Vaughn sing, though he'd heard rumors when they were in high school.
"Dude." Cole laughed and shook his head. He glanced at Derick, then Elian. "You got it."
Vaughn nodded. "Cool. I'm gonna step out for a cigarette."
The second the door shut, Cole grinned. "Fuckin' A, man! He's perfect!"
"He's an asshole."
"How do you two know each other anyway?"
Elian turned off the amp and set his guitar on its stand. "We went to high school together. I knew he was in a band, but didn't know he sang."
"You're okay with it, right?"
"Yeah. He's good, I'll give him that."
Derick packed up the last of his spare sticks and grabbed his wallet off the bass amp. "I need to get going. See you guys tomorrow night."
"I gotta head out, too," Cole said. "I'll catch up with you in the morning, E."
Elian waved them out, content to stay behind and clean up a bit. If he waited long enough, maybe Vaughn would be gone too. He hadn't seen the guy since they'd graduated, and that was perfectly fine with him. Vaughn Burke might have a god's voice -- and looks, if Elian let himself admit it -- but he was still an asshole.
"It figures you'd be the one I'd run into."
Fuck. "Yeah, well, just my luck you're the only fucking singer who can carry a tune."
The door shut and Elian glanced up briefly to see Vaughn leaning back against it, muscular arms crossed over hard chest. He didn't look like a guy who could sing worth a damn. He looked more like the football player he used to be. Unfortunately.
"Cut the shit, Levine."
"How did you escape him?"
Elian froze, hand poised over a mic cable. No one, not even Cole or Derick, knew. How the hell did Vaughn? "Wh-what are you talking about?"
"Don't play stupid. It's just you and me in here."
"Look." Elian gave up the pretense of cleaning up and stood, scowling at his high school arch nemesis... and the subject of every teenaged wet dream he'd ever had. "Doesn't fucking matter. No one else knows. I don't even know how the fuck you know. Why did you -- holy shit!" His jaw dropped as the man's face before him shifted into a sleek gray wolf's muzzle. "You... you're like me."
Vaughn shifted back, though how he did it without destroying his clothes, Elian had no idea. "I've been sent to bring you home, back to safety."

Under and Over It by Megan Slayer

Under and Over It

by Megan Slayer
ISBN: 978-1-60521-712-3
Genre(s): Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary), BDSM
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella

Regan Finley's photography makes the local music scene shine. He's four months from his final exhibition and graduation. But instead of preparing for the party, he's fretting about his exhibition theme -- bondage and passion. There's one person he wants to make his exhibition come to life, if he can convince his housemate to participate.
Camryn Tate plays the music that makes the young girls scream. He likes being a local rock hero. When he finds out what Regan wants for the exhibition, Cam has to make a decision. He can let Regan have his commanding way and get the pictures he needs for the exhibition, or he can walk away from the best roommate and friend he's ever known... all because of a little ball of nylon rope.
Under and Over It
Megan Slayer
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Megan Slayer<

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.

"Have you come up with a theme for your final project?"
Regan jerked his attention to the sound of Camryn's voice. "Excuse me?" They'd been housemates for almost six months and known each other for a year beyond that, but this was the first time Camryn had shown real interest in Regan's artwork.
"I'll use English." Cam crooked one brow. "The big theatre show or whatever you all call it is in less than a month and half. What's your theme or idea or the art term for project thingy?"
"It's an exhibition at the Kline Gallery and yes, I've got a theme picked out. The title is still up in the air." Regan held his breath for a beat. "Right now I'm going with Confined Obsession." Well, that was part of the title, anyway.
Regan stared at Camryn with no idea what Camryn was thinking as he stared back with his drop-dead gorgeous green eyes. Regan stifled a groan. The guy could model professionally. Cam spent just enough time at the gym to be sculpted without getting too veiny, and he was one of those rare creatures who didn't have a ton of body hair all over the place. Regan swore Camryn Tate was made for photography.
Too bad Cam never bothered to volunteer to be Regan's model.
Instead of speaking, Camryn nibbled on the corner of his mouth, no doubt deep in thought. The longer he stayed silent, the more Regan's skin crawled. He wasn't totally sold on the project theme, but he didn't have much choice. "Confine" sounded so harsh... he wanted something equally emotional, but better said.
"How do you suppose you're going to show this confinement? I mean, it sounds like you're talking about someone being in jail." Camryn strummed his guitar, his fingers gliding over the strings to create a melody Regan had never heard before.
"It's a working title."
"That makes more sense." Cam closed his eyes and nodded in slow motion, caught up in his new composition. "Did you have to submit a timeline or anything? I've got exactly five weeks to get the bones of my music comp project done. I'm stumped. I thought maybe if you had a plan, your hyper plotting would rub off on me. It worked at mid-terms."
"Plotting?" Regan snickered. Here he'd thought no one recognized his latent OCD tendencies. Cam got him, as always. Regan stared at the computer screen. He felt a little better about his unspoken choice for the show. "Well, the plan was to show people in the midst of everyday activities but with the confinements and constraints put upon them by society. You know, like Cassidy and her son... Skylar with his suit and tie." Me and my sexuality with a roommate who doesn't know I want him for more than platonic reasons.
Yeah, there was no way in hell he'd throw that in. Camryn knew Regan was gay. Regan didn't exactly keep his taste for men hidden. But Regan wasn't interested in showing himself in the photographs -- he'd worked too damn hard in the space of four years obtaining his photography degree to do a series of self-portraits. Besides, his internship at Rock Monthly wasn't going to up and disappear because of his sexuality. Max and Skylar loved Regan's take on capturing the musical community in photographic form. But the friendship with Cam might crumble if love were injected into the scene.
"Who's going to be in the pictures? Sarah? Skylar? Cassidy might do it. Why don't you ask Marcie -- she's hot for you."
"They might do it, yes." Not quite the way Regan had planned, but they might get involved. "I kinda had an idea who I wanted for the model, but Marcie isn't on the list. She's in love with you."
"Yeah?" Camryn looked up from his guitar, still riffing the bouncy tune. "Well, I am hot, but she's not my type. Too thin." He bobbed his brows in time with the music. "Aren't I so full of shit? Now for the model. Anyone I know?"
"Your ego certainly is intact." Regan gathered his wits. If he didn't just say what he wanted, the moment would pass. He swallowed hard. "You -- I want you for the model."
How wasn't that a whisper? Shit. The declaration in the mirror had come out so much stronger when he'd practiced earlier that morning.
The strumming stopped, and the color bled from Cam's face. His eyes widened, making Regan's pulse skip about five beats. "You want me? I don't know what to say." He placed his hand on his heart in a dramatic fashion. "It's all so sudden. I don't have a speech planned."
"Drama king." Regan rolled his eyes. Hell, yes, he wanted Camryn, and not just for photographic purposes. When Camryn looked at Regan, his knees turned to jelly. He wanted those eyes fixated on him as he did devious things to Cam. Looking lovingly down at Regan while Cam swallowed him to the... oh, God. Regan needed to get out and get laid. He'd known lots of guys, both gay and straight, and as far as he knew, Cam wasn't gay -- just theatrical.
"Can I keep the guitar?"
Guitar? Regan forced himself to surface from the Cam-induced haze. "Sure." For a while, anyway. What Regan had in mind didn't include the instrument, but keeping it with Camryn had merit. "Actually, yeah, I do want you to have the guitar. I've got an amendment to my idea, and you playing will work perfectly. When's your next gig?"
"Tomorrow night at the Barricade. I'm sitting in with the Taylor Rogers Band for the May Day Festival. Tony's sick."
"Score one for you." The stage at the Barricade had the best lighting for photography. Reds, greens and blues all shimmering off the singer and players. Yes, that would be great. "I'll be there."
"You know, I'm excited. You never come see me play." Camryn strummed the guitar once again. A smile built on the corner of his mouth. "I like it, so don't wuss out." Cam toyed with the tuning pegs. "And I know you're going to get a huge head, but I'm kinda looking forward to being in your pictures. The folks in the music building think you're the bomb."
Regan sighed. He wanted to tell Cam not to fuck around with compliments, especially with the music people. At twenty-six, he was too damned old for empty flattery. Sure, Regan loved doing the photos -- capturing the heat of the performance was what he lived for. But damn, he hated being on the hair trigger. Four months without even so much as a date sucked balls. Regan scooted back into the safety of the couch. If he kept his mouth shut, Camryn would never know how much Regan wanted him for more than a good headshot.
Camryn stood and stretched. "I'm cashing in. Tomorrow will be late enough. May Day is a blast but man, the night is long, and I want to look good in those pics." He placed the guitar in its stand and raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand up in messy spikes. "Sleep and composition class tomorrow." He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped in the doorway. "Have you -- have you ever had a burst of creativity right when you really needed to crash?"
"That's why I pull the all-nighters. Not because I have to turn the project in the next day. It's the flow, the zone. Can't knock it when it shows up." Cam nodded, and a lock of his ebony hair slid over his forehead. "Yeah." The smile grew. "Night."
Once Camryn left the room, Regan covered his face in his hands. Creativity had walked in the door the moment he met Camryn down at the commissary. He probably wouldn't have paid attention, but Camryn sat on the steps and sang that Queen song so loud, Regan couldn't help but notice. Cam knew all the words, even when Freddie Mercury and the bass line garbled it. He didn't shy away when Regan sat down, instead making room for him on the concrete step.
Regan sighed. The moment Cam stopped playing and smiled, he'd fallen head over heels. And Cam had no idea.

Hellhound Detective Agency: Relentless by BJ McCall


Hellhound Detective Agency: Relentless
by B.J. McCall

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-708-6
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense
Theme(s): Shapeshifters
Series: Hellhound Detective Agency
Length: Novella
Page Count: 44

Hellhound Haydn North is hired by Ridax Pharmaceuticals to track down stolen vials of its new heart drug which has an unexpected side effect. Stolen by a lab tech, the aphrodisiac is now on the streets being sold under the name of Raptus.
Private procurer Kartinka Kruse is hired by a wealthy client to acquire the vials of Raptus only to find Haydn is on the case. This isn't the first time she and the Hellhound have crossed paths.
Haydn has been romancing Kartinka for months and his relentless pursuit is wearing her down a kiss at a time, but alpha male Hellhounds like to lead and Kartinka doesn't like to follow. Haydn's hunt for his alpha mate is over. All he has to do is convince Kartinka she's his perfect mate.
Hellhound Detective Agency: Relentless
B.J. McCall
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 B.J. McCall

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.

Kartinka slid the key into the lock. Having the Hellhounds after the Raptus made her job more difficult. Once they got onto a scent Hellhounds were relentless.
An unexpected rush of cool air, blaring car horns and wailing sirens alerted her. She'd secured the balcony doors of her apartment before leaving to meet Masters.
Kartinka pulled her handgun out of her purse and chambered a round before stepping inside. Her gaze swept her living room, the kitchen and dining area, then focused on the open balcony doors. Her heart leapt into her throat. A man stood in the shadows, his tall frame outlined by the lighted city skyline beyond.
Her footsteps silenced by the thick carpet, Kartinka crossed the room.
The intruder was dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt and dark pants. The width of his shoulders and the long, black hair hanging halfway down his back was a dead giveaway. Only one thing would bring her most fierce competitor, the only man capable of turning her heart inside out, into her home tonight. Haydn North was after the vials of Raptus. It wasn't the first time they'd both pursued the same prize.
He turned and leaned against the solid wall of the balcony. "Tinka." Whenever he called her Tinka, she felt vulnerable and wanting, a woman needing the solace of a man's arms, instead of Kartinka Kruse, acquirer extraordinaire.
He stared down the barrel of her weapon. "Aren't you glad to see me?"
Even though she deliberately kept her business and travel plans private, Haydn had a habit of showing up in the same city. She'd accepted his invitations to dinner and joined him for moonlight strolls. He'd pick her up at her hotel room, flowers and gifts in hand.
Kartinka was attracted to his looks and rugged masculinity, but he was a Hellhound. Alpha males like to lead, and Kartinka wasn't a great follower. Hellhounds demanded loyalty, and she'd been on her own far too long.
So far she'd resisted his seductive overtures, but the man was wearing her down a kiss and a present at a time. This was the first time he'd shown up at her apartment.
Kartinka lowered her weapon. "What are you doing here?"
"I missed you, Tinka."
Rich and compelling, his voice enticed her. She stepped onto the balcony. "How did you get in?"
"You should rethink your choice of locks."
"You picked the lock. Perhaps you should have waited for an invitation."
"Perhaps. Hellhounds by nature are more persistent than patient."
She'd ignored him and rebuffed him, but his relentless pursuit of her had intrigued Kartinka.
"I've been thinking about you," he said. "About us."
"What about us?"
"You're mine, Tinka."
A frisson of pure heat slid through her.
His gaze, burning and intense, slid over her, from head to toe and back again. "You look amazing."
To blend in with the hotel's upscale clientele, Kartinka had chosen a fashionable jacket, form-fitting skirt and heels for her meeting with Masters. She'd left Masters and visited Lester Potts' studio apartment. The place had been trashed, and there was no sign of the lab tech. She'd stopped by a few clubs. Bartenders and bouncers knew their clientele -- who was selling and who was buying product. Kartinka had shown Lester's photo around. Nobody recognized him.
Everybody wanted Raptus, but no one had a source for the product that had hit the scene like a tsunami, then disappeared.
"Your timing is questionable, Haydn."
"You're after the Raptus," he said, pushing off the railing.
"Not the first time we've had a conflict of interest."
"True, but we can resolve that problem in the morning. I want you, Tinka, and I refuse to wait another second to have you."
Bless the stars!
Her brain told her to throw him out and ignore his overtures until she obtained the vials, but his alpha male confidence made her cream. She craved him like a powerful drug.
For months, Kartinka had suffered from the raw need he evoked. Just being in the same room with him made her senses spark. Why did he have to show up tonight of all nights to tempt her when Masters had offered her such a lucrative deal?
"You knew our time would come," he said.
She wanted him. She feared she loved him, but her mind swirled with doubts. Was his arrival tonight merely a distraction while another Hellhound ran Lester Potts to ground?
"This isn't a good idea," she said.
"You're wrong," he said, stepping toward her.
"Not tonight."
He cupped her face in his hands. "We are a very good idea. Be my partner, Tinka."
"I've accepted the assignment."
He lowered his head. "Kiss me, Tinka."
His lips covered hers, demanding and hungry. Kartinka answered in kind. Each time Haydn kissed her, her feelings for him swelled, erupting in a million tiny explosions she couldn't explain or deny.
Her skin heated, burning in the cool night air. Her heart rate increased, and her heart thumped in excitement. The noise of the city, the blaring horns and sirens, was hushed by the sound of her blood roaring in her ears. He wrapped his arms around her, held her tight and deepened the kiss.
Her senses reeled, doubt fading and resistance ebbing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and, with the flick of her thumb, set the safety on her weapon. Seeking his heat and his strength, Kartinka pressed her body to his, molding her breasts to his chest, her pelvis to his.
Need coiled, tight and hot, deep in her belly.
His hand slid down her back, over her hip to her ass. He squeezed and kneaded.
She rolled her hips, pushing her pelvis against his, rubbing her mons to the firm ridge of his erection.
A groan tearing from his throat, he fisted her hair and pulled her head back. His eyes glittered. "Tonight is the night."
Fire flashed through Kartinka, heating her blood to a boil. She responded to Haydn's strength, his alpha male allure. She'd seen him in action when a bunch of young thugs were beating the crap out of a skinny kid in an alley. Muscles bunched and fists flying, Haydn had dealt with the bullies. Busted lip and blood all over his shirt, he'd never looked sexier. But when he'd taken the kid to the emergency room, signed to cover the medical expenses and waited for hours because the kid's mother couldn't be located until after all the nightclubs closed, Kartinka had fallen for him.
They'd said goodbye at sunrise, and she hadn't seen him in twenty-six days. Not that she was counting. Damn him for showing up tonight...

Jazz Bang Boom by Willa Okati

 Jazz Bang Boom

by Willa Okati

Cover art: Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-537-2
Genre(s): Sci-Fi, Cyber-Punk
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella
Page Count: 33



T-minus sixty seconds. Really, it was bad manners to blow up a tea party, but some society dames were just asking for it. Jazz landed in the ornamental rose bushes outside his hostess's parlor window, gathered his heavy silk skirts around his knees, and ran like hell.
Jazz loves pretty things and things that go BOOM. Riot, aka "Tyger", is a man on a mission, searching for the bits and pieces that'll repair his damaged, bioconstructed DNA. It only makes sense for the happily mismatched lovers to turn pirate and sneak, snatch or con what they need.
One problem: occasionally Jazz gets a little too fond of explosives, and Tyger gets a tad too focused on his quest. And when that happens... well. That's when the adventuresome airshipmen need to vent a little steam.
Jazz Bang Boom
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.

T-minus sixty seconds. Really, it was bad manners to blow up a tea party, but some society dames were just asking for it. Jazz landed in the ornamental rose bushes outside his hostess's parlor window, gathered his heavy silk skirts around his knees, and ran like hell.
Not that he was worried. Jazz knew his explosives like he knew his way around the three-dimensional differential equations of a projected illusory field.
And wine. And perfume. What? Jazz prided himself on having layers.
He ticked off the seconds in his head, listening to an internal countdown. Right about now the aforementioned queens of "polite" society (and those who knew Jazz knew far better than to push a particular argument on behavior becoming to a lady and the mind-boggling double-standards that -- oh, anyway).
Jazz did enjoy traveling to different worlds and sampling the finest wines, velvets, songs and yes, incendiary devices from the thousands of cultures that flourished around the galaxies, but the next time his honey, Riot, wanted to spend time where good manners were forbidden in favor of good times? No thanks.
Where had he been? Oh, right. Crap! Cue the fine ladies screeching, coughing and sneezing, the last of a harmless fog floating out the window he'd helpfully, er, opened by jumping through, and they might have regained enough composure after the flash and bang that went with the smoke to have started complaining and oh, right.
Five, four, three, two --
Jazz managed to free himself of the pannier hoops just in time to dive under the cover of a cluster of almost-certainly-sacred ancient oak trees, before -- BOOM.
If a thing was worth doing, it was worth doing properly. "Proper." See what I did there?
This time, however, the dainty device of detonation had not been hidden in Jazz's decolletage (quite convincing cleavage, if he did say so himself). He'd set the charges long before smiling politely and pretending to enjoy a coin-sized cress sandwich in the ladies' salon.
There, that was the ticket! One for distraction, two to cause confusion to his enemies, e.g. the people in possession of A Thing Jazz Wanted, and a third to blow the ever-living fuck out of irritatingly secure locks that otherwise prevented his honey from wholesale liberation of a few deliciously prized goods.
Oops. He'd forgotten the fourth bomb in the salon. Well, that one had been a bit spur of the moment. And a leetle more powerful. Enough to, say, jar loose some ripe pickings of his own, if he were lucky. All he needed to do was circle back around, and --
The discreet two-way comms device concealed in the cunning shape of a rosebud earring spoke to him. "Overkill, Jazz. Overkill."
"Spoilsport," Jazz said, and sneezed. "Let he who has never enjoyed the smell of C4 in the morning cast the first stone in a glass house."
"Excuse me?" The voice on the comms sounded amused. "You're high on adrenaline again, aren't you?"
"Pish, tosh, nonsense, and absolutely, yes. Perhaps that was overkill. Others could say I was in the wrong, but I can't blame me."
"You are a ridiculous man," the speaker said fondly.
"I know." Jazz preened. He sneezed again. "Tch. Plastique is one thing. Debris coated in dust is quite another. What about you, tick-tock man? Did you get what you came here for?"
"Stop calling me that," Riot said, quite clear -- even over the comms -- that he didn't mind in the least, and even had a soft spot in his heart for the nickname. "Yeah, I got what I needed. And then some. Wasn't easy to find and I had to pay a price, but it was worth it."
Jazz enjoyed a ripple's worth of goosebumps. He anticipated all sorts of good things once back on board the Sarah-Jessica-No-Parking. A triumphant Riot made for a feisty Riot with his blood running hot and his body all-systems-go. He employed the same affectionate tone when he replied, "Tell that to the watercress and unspiced kimchi I had to eat to make nice with my hostess."
"The one you just blew up?"
"Unspiced kimchi," Jazz repeated.
"The trials and tragedies you face, darlin'."
"Darn right. This piece of the puzzle you went after -- tell me about it," he coaxed.
"Later. For the moment --"
"Yes, yes. Run and keep running until you swoop in to save the day, and clear out of here before the smoke does?"
"You read my mind," Riot said, very dryly indeed but pleased. Almost purring.
Consider Jazz's curiosity piqued.
"I'm on my way." Such a tragedy, but the skirts had to go. Almost a full bolt of silk! Still, a man had to do what a man had to do, even when he'd tricked himself out in the finest of ladies' clothing.
Probably more so at such times. Hmm. He'd have to think about that more later. In the meantime, business. Beautiful, sparkly, gloriously shiny business! Jazz retrieved the pouches of more easily liftable and valuable trinketry from the panniers and pushed them into his reticule.
"Jazz? When I said run, that wasn't a suggestion."
Oh! Right. "And what'll you be doing while I skedaddle? How will I know if I'm being rescued by the right man?"
"I'll be the one dangling out of an airship with a rope and a half-cocked plan."
"Easily recognizable," Jazz said happily. Wait. "How long a rope? How high do the airships go?" Wouldn't exactly Be Done to whip off the 3-D fooler facade, and on this steampunk aficionado's wet dream of a world the airships he'd seen before had to go quite high indeed --"Riot? How high?"
"High enough I'll make it worth your while to man up and climb. And," Riot purred, "when I say 'worth your while' I mean, 'I plan to punish you, then fuck you three-quarters of the way through the nearest flat surface.'"
"I am so on my way now."
"Darling, you have no idea." Jazz kicked off his heels. Not the shoes, mind, those gorgeous soft-supple open-calf boots of fawn-soft suede. Just the heels and pattens. "After all, who do you think you're talking to?"
Oh dear. Jazz heard a set of mastiffs on their way. Here I go again. Skirts, knees, running feet, check. Go time.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Wolfman: Genesis by Brannan Black

Wolfman: Genesis

by Brannan Black

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-725-3

Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Dark Fantasy

Theme(s): Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian

Series: Wolfman

Length: Novella

Page Count: 94


The world fell apart after the virus killed billions, turning most male survivors into violent monsters. Then I met Mace and he changed everything I thought I knew about wolfmen. Mace is my mate. And I'm his.
Unfortunately the new psycho rabid wants to destroy Mace's pack with extreme prejudice. Our defenses are damaged and supplies are running low. Mace is going to have to reach out to other packs to hunt down and eliminate this new threat.
Wolfmen. Working together. What's the world coming to? Maybe the dawn of a new kind of civilization. A new beginning. One thing's for sure. Things are going to get a lot uglier before they get better.
If we survive at all...
Wolfman: Genesis
Brannan Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Brannan Black

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

I ran down the dark street, heart pounding in my ears, lungs heaving, desperate for air. The hounds of hell ran on my heels, terror weighting my feet. Mace. I had to get to Mace. I rounded a corner, nowhere left to go.
Turning back, I fired my shotgun at point blank range.
RK's head exploded like a ripe watermelon. A scream rang in my head.
It still echoed around the room as I jerked awake, soaked in sweat, heart pounding and sucking air like I'd just run a fucking marathon. The miasma from the nightmare left me shaking. At least it wasn't Mace I'd shot this time. The running was new, too. Was that a good thing? Maybe I was getting over it.
Or I could just be losing my fucking mind.
Mace's spot on the bed felt cold, like he'd been gone a while. Where the fuck was he? Why hadn't he woken me? RK's whine came through the door just before he stuck his head in. "Daniel? OK?"
"Yeah, RK, just a fucking nightmare. Where's Mace?" I flipped the switch for the bedside lamp I'd recently installed. I'd never take flipping a switch for granted again after a month of oil lamps and candles.
The loud sounds from the hall clued me in that it wasn't early. I really, really wanted a fucking window! Or even a skylight. On the other hand, if the lower windows hadn't all been boarded up, those fucking rabids would have gotten in. Hmm. Maybe skylights with iron cages over them.
Nah, still wouldn't reach a first floor room.
"He's in the yard with others. Want breakfast?" RK's answer left me scrabbling to remember the fucking question.
"Well, I'm awake now, so how about you get me some coffee while I get dressed?"
RK cocked his head, thinking or looking, I couldn't tell. He shrugged. "OK."
I sighed and hurried to dress before my own personal wolfman lackey came back. Not what I had in mind when I saved his life.
I was dressed, been to the head, and still no coffee. If RK was going to hover, the least he could do was get me coffee. I let out a deep breath. Fucking nightmares, always left me grumpy and more than a little scattered. I mentally shook it off.
Late morning sun streamed in from the high windows highlighting the chaos running rampant in the main room. A little over twenty-four hours after the rabid attack and it looked like a fucking gun factory. Weapons were being stripped and cleaned. Others were inventorying ammo. Yum, the smell of gun oil mixed with coffee.
Doc leaned over a whining Eagle, smearing ointment on his many burns. On the nearest couch, Fox lay in an odd twisted pose, I assumed to miss the worst of the burns scattered over his body. A couple of the younger wolfmen who'd been injured while defending the den lay sprawled around the room and were being tended by their buddies.
Finding the normal kitchen crew hard at work cleaning up the mess the guys left surprised me. Guess it was OK for the women to be back in the main room even with the former rabids about. The women seemed awfully quiet, focused on their work. I knew from experience that getting back to a normal routine after a loss helped. And maybe we'd get some better meals. Anything but mystery meat on a stick sounded like gourmet fare.
RK stood by the stove waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.
I wove my way through the crowd. A wave of quiet spread out around me like ripples in a pond. The pack tracked my course across the room. Fucking reminded me of when I first arrived and they looked at me like prey.
"What?" I snapped, staring hard. A few tilted their heads in my direction and sniffed, loudly. I did a quick check to make sure I didn't have my clothes on backward or something. Nope, relatively clean jeans, no holes. Black T-shirt with a tribal design in grey, right side out, no bloodstains.
"What the fuck is up? Did I sprout fucking horns and a tail or something?" I yanked out a stool at the kitchen counter. "Anything edible over there?"
Den-Mom, one of the rare women affected by the virus, snickered and passed me a plate with fried mystery meat and a bowl of oatmeal. A little canned fruit topped the oatmeal. Wow, a veritable feast! RK passed my coffee over as well. I plopped onto a barstool at the counter to eat. If I ignored them, maybe they'd go away.
"They're just curious to see if you smell different, like Mace does." Den-Mom leaned across the counter, sniffing.
I jerked back. "That's just fucking weird. And why would Mace smell different?" Granted, that knot thing on his penis hadn't ever happened before. Part of the mating thing I'd assumed. "Something wrong with him?" Surely they couldn't fucking tell he'd bottomed? Something told me that wouldn't sit well with the rank obsessed pack.
"No, not wrong, just different. And he looks a lot more relaxed. Something happened between you two last night." She leaned closer, gaze boring holes in me.
I took that first sip of coffee and sighed. Damn, that tasted good, even without milk. "What's between me and Mace isn't your fucking business." I took another sip of coffee to cover the stupid ass grin spreading over my face. Fuck, that had been amazing sex. And Mace giving himself to me like that... might piss the pack off, but it meant the world to me. I'd never felt so loved, cherished. No, that didn't even begin to explain what I felt.
"He's our pack alpha. If it affects him, it's our business." She growled and flashed fangs at me, pulling me from my reverie.
I shrugged and dug into breakfast. She could growl all she wanted. Didn't fucking scare me anymore. "Thanks for the fruit. Mmmm." I savored the sweetness with closed eyes. Chewing while smiling, that didn't happen to me often. Felt weird. Good but weird.
"Daniel!" Claws hooked into my shirtsleeve and tugged. "You two have been at odds for days and all of a sudden everything is fine? Spill, brain boy."
Was she that fucking dense, or did she want a blow by blow? "If you haven't figured it out, go ask my mate." And that was all they were getting.
Den-Mom smiled triumphantly. "I knew it! You are mated now!"
The quiet of the room erupted in yips, howls and excited voices. A loud growl stood out among the noise. Alpha glared at me with death in her eyes.
"Sorry, sweetheart. You never really had a chance anyway." I smirked at her and turned back to savoring my meal. My stomach felt like a black hole. When was the last time I'd had a good meal? When was the last time I'd really felt like eating?
Oh yeah, before that brain splatting incident. My stomach roiled and I mentally slapped myself for digging that fucking memory up again.
Doc slouched into the kitchen, snagging some coffee. "God, that's good!" She turned to me with a smile. "So, you two found a workaround?"
No point in answering. The stupid shit-eating grin on my face said it all. The front door banged open. Mace, Slade and a few others came in from the yard. "We need a better damned fence!" Slade snarled.
Calm, cool Slade fucking snarled at Mace? What the fuck?
Mace's deep rumble stirred my cock to life. Fucking thing ought to be tired after last night, but no. "I'm all ears if you've got a suggestion." Yellow-gold eyes focused on me, the wolf spotting his prey.
Immediately the room stilled again. They all watched him stalk over to me. His broad shoulders stretched his grey T-shirt tight across chiseled muscles. Those jeans looked painted on, nicely accenting his impressive package, lean hips and strong thighs. For once, my hardening cock avoided getting cramped up. I stood, leaning against the counter, waiting for him. That silly grin just got wider. My fucking cheeks were starting to hurt.
Mace stopped right in front of me, staring down. For a heartbeat we just drank each other in. As one, we grabbed hold and leaped into a scorching kiss. The pack must have approved, because the noise they made nearly deafened me. Mace pressed me against the counter; his hard cock nestled next to mine. I moaned softly and rolled my hips, rubbing us together. Hot desire flooded me. The room vanished into the background. It was just me and Mace and a burning need for each other.
"God, mate, I want you."
I laughed against his lips. "So what's new?"
Hawk spoke softly as always, kept his eyes down. "Hate to break this up but we need to figure something out about that fence." Still earned himself a snarl from Mace. Despite Doc snuggling up to him, Slade scowled.
"So what's up with the fence?" That turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Slade looked like he wanted to strangle me.
"It needs to keep those damned rabids out! We're not losing more women to those bastards!" I'd never seen Slade so pissed off. "And you could learn to hit what you shoot at!"
"Good luck with that. Fuckers are damned hard to keep out." No point arguing that last bit. I had hesitated. And missed killing the lead psycho rabid. Pissed me off, too.
Slade snarled again. "Any bright ideas, genius?"

Monday, November 07, 2011

How Not to Date a Vamp by Stephanie Burke


How Not to Date a Vamp

by Stephanie Burke
Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-727-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, Humor & Satire
Theme(s): Interracial/MultiCultural, Vampires
Series: How Not To
Length: Novella

What do you get when your greatest strength lies in not dying easy? If you are lucky and no one confuses you with a pop culture vampire, and if you diet and exercise to keep your weight down, you just might get the girl. But first you have to avoid the hunters on your trail, the cost of replacing your clothing, and get over your phobia about wood.
Only if he overcomes these obstacles will Virgil spend the better part of his afterlife with Barb. If he can survive dating.
How Not to Date a Vamp
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.

It was kind of hard to sing "Cotton Club Blues" when your bassist was muttering about murder and threatening to cosh a six-foot woman with facial hair over the head with his instrument.
After two sets, Barb had had enough. It wouldn't have been so bad if the weather hadn't exercised the Baltimore Rule. If you don't like the weather, wait a minute. It'll change. And boy, did it change. It went from a nice, balmy fall day of about seventy to a winter chill of about forty-five degrees.
She wasn't concerned about her street clothing -- they would be safe inside her dressing room -- but now her pale ass was cold, and there was a decided lack of individuals on the street.
So now she was mixed in with the other poor slobs in Fells Point who were trying to make their way home after an evening of drunken debauchery. Only she was not drunk, not debauched, and was freezing her butt off. So she waved her hand again, bellowing and jumping up and down like a jackrabbit, trying her best to catch the attention of a cabbie who wouldn't think she was about to vomit in his car.
What a life.
She was seriously considering starting to hoof it home in her stilettos when a cab actually pulled up in front of her.
"Thank God!" she gasped, opening the door and pasting a smile on her face. She was about to enter when a voice spoke in her ear -- a very deep, very masculine voice. "Nice dress."
Barb turned around, eyes wide as she looked at the man who had paused to give her such a nice compliment. And smiled.
While standing out on the corner, she had gotten catcalls, offers of solicitation, and a lot of strange looks. But no one had complimented her on the fringed and sequined 1940s-style gown she had made herself.
So, naturally, she preened a little and took the time to check the discerning man out.
And then she deflated a little. Sure, he had one of the sexiest voices she had ever heard outside of a studio, but the guy's whole appearance just screamed nerd.
He was wearing a nice enough full-length black velvet coat, however. The soft looking fabric seemed to envelop his short body almost like a cloak. But that was where the ohhh factor ended. He was wearing a pair of thick, black, square glasses, the kind that never looked good on anyone. His shirt was a blinding white and buttoned up so high it looked like he was choking. The man's jeans were a little too baggy for her taste and looked like they'd come out of the bargain rack at Walmart at least five years ago. And, of all things, he was wearing a red and blue-striped tie. There were some kind of work boots on his feet, and his hair was a tangled, brown mass that covered half of his face.
Okay, forget nerd -- he kind of looked like a serial killer.
"Thanks?" she offered, shaking her head and turning back to the safety of her cab.
"You are welcome." He had an accent of some kind, but it was not really interesting enough to even try and place it.
Barb shrugged, the conversation over in her mind, and made to enter the cab -- just in time to have to door slam shut in her face.
"Hey!" she called out, beating on the window while bending over to see who was being so damn rude. "This is my cab!"
A man in a business suit grinned back at her and waved as he leaned forward and gave the cabbie instructions.
Shrugging, the cabbie hit the gas, tearing off down Ann Street and -- rip!
"Oh, my God!" Barb shrieked as her skin was hit with a sudden blast of cold. The man had not only stolen her cab, but it seemed he had stolen her dress as well.
Her dress had to have gotten caught in the door when the gentleman -- and she was using the term loosely -- hopped inside her rightfully hunted conveyance. The result was that the thin concoction of taffeta and fringe ripped completely off her body and took off down the street with her cab! That left her standing on the corner with nothing on but a nearly see-through French-cut camisole, tap pants, and a pair of heels -- damn her need for authenticity -- with her dress forlornly waving like an abandoned flag as the rear lights disappeared into the night.
"Oh, shit!" she gasped, breaking out of her frozen stupor to take the classic debauched maiden pose of one arm wrapped around her breasts, the other trying to cover her groin as she hunched over.
It was not a pretty picture, she thought as she looked around the dark streets, watching clouds of white puff up with every rapid, frightened, and frustrated breath she took. What the hell as she supposed to do now?
Before she could concoct a plan, something warm and soft wrapped around her shoulders, cloaking her whole body.
She blinked and looked over her shoulder to see nerd boy standing there. He had a concerned look on his face as he carefully wrapped his own coat around her nearly naked body.
"Are you okay?" he asked, stepping up to her, and Barb realized that in her heels she could look him right in the eye. That put him at around five feet six inches tall. It was odd to find a man so short, she decided, but at least he was being a gentleman.
"My dress," she stammered, her bottom lip quivering as she tried to blink back tears.
She had just gotten her dress ripped off her body, her new and most favorite dress, and she was standing on a street corner in her underwear. That was worth at least a tear or two.
"I saw," he said as he began to button the million black buttons that seemed to line the front of his coat. It was almost like a gothic version of a priest's coat, she decided as the scent of the thing teased her nostrils.
He smelled like freshly baked pastries.
"My dress..." she tried again as the man stood up, and she caught a good look at his eyes.
They were so green...

Sunday, November 06, 2011

Caveat Emptor: Forgotten Lover by Zenobia Renquist

Caveat Emptor: Forgotten Lover

by Zenobia Renquist

Cover art: Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-681-2
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Interracial, Vampires, Magic
Series: Caveat Emptor
Length: Novella
Page Count: 43

Captured by mages, Medusa is more upset at her own weakness than the mages' idea of torture. Once free of them, she plans to slaughter them all. Except, there is one mage who awakens long buried memories of desire from a past best left forgotten. She knows this man to the depths of her soul, but she and Darius are on opposite sides of a war that has raged for centuries. It's more than her heart at stake if she gives in to her desires.
Caveat Emptor: Forgotten Lover
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.

The charm's magic might be strong, but she'd seen Theron fight it. If his will could overcome it, then so could hers.
"Get away from her!" That command was shouted by another mage who entered the room. The mage threw power at Medusa's captor, tossing the man against the far wall.
Her captor righted himself and lifted a glowing hand at his assailant. "You dare attack me, Darius?"
"Quincy, you are an idiot." Darius gestured to Medusa. "Look at her eyes."
Medusa managed enough control of her body so she glared at them both.
Quincy stared at her in shock. "That cannot be." He shook his head as though that would make everything better. "The charm is active. She should be nothing but a doll."
"She would have killed you the second you touched her. Obviously your magic isn't up to the task of containing her." Darius held up an envelope. "I'm willing to take her off your hands."
"How much?"
"Well over what you would get if you sold her through normal means." He tossed the envelope.
Quincy held out his hand and beckoned, making the envelope zip over to him. He thumbed through the contents. "You think your magic can overcome everything. Your arrogance will get you killed. Have her, then. When she disposes of you, I will laugh at your stupidity and take her back." Quincy left the room.
Darius watched the man go before facing Medusa. He sighed and shook his head. "Come, vampire." He turned and walked away.
Medusa didn't want to follow him. The charm overrode her senses again and made her walk. Rather than waste energy she might need later, she simply allowed the charm to function. Once night fell, she would have more freedom. She would leave this place, killing as many of the mages as she could in the process. Starting with the mage she followed.
This mage was shorter than she was by four inches. That would make him about five foot seven. He was lean, but she didn't mistake that for weakness. The way he moved spoke of a body trained for fighting. A martial art of some sort, possibly. Most mages were soft from depending on their magic for everything, but not this man.
Martial arts training would mean he had speed. Medusa remembered the way he had arced power at Quincy. The spell had moved quickly, not even allowing Quincy enough time to shield. This Darius might not have vampire speed but he would be a formidable opponent if Medusa didn't time her attack properly.
Some primal part of her cautioned her to be wary. The man walked with his back to her, knowing she could fight the power of the charm. That had to mean he didn't fear that she might attack him, because he knew his powers could overcome any attack she launched.
She sensed none of Quincy's stupidity in this man. That was dangerous. Darius stopped at a doorway, opened it, and then stepped back, waving her forward.
She walked to the middle of the room and then faced him. Now what? Would he continue what Quincy had started? If that was his plan, he better do it quickly. She could feel the sun moving across the sky. The man had less than two hours before sunset. She had no qualms about killing him mid-coitus if it meant she would be free.
He closed the door behind him before stripping off his floor-length mage cloak. The thick, black cloth fell to the floor with a soft thud. Darius rolled his shoulders and then his neck as though happy to be free of the burden. He said, "Now then."
Medusa readied herself to endure as he reached toward her. He touched the charm nestled at the base of her neck. A surge of power shot through her body and then he stepped back. "There."
Medusa lifted her hands. Her movements were her own. Her body obeyed her, and she hadn't had to wait for sunset.
She looked at Darius, instantly on guard. "What are you doing? What trick is this?"
"No trick."
"You're the idiot you proclaimed Quincy to be if you think your magic is faster than me."
"Attack me if it pleases you." He backed away from her and sat on his bed, giving her an expectant look.
She didn't trust his open invitation. It was a trick of some kind. He had a magical trap waiting that would damage her as soon as she neared him. "No."
He raised a questioning eyebrow and looked amused. "Really? Such a pity."
"Are you hoping for death, mage? Is that why you brought me here?"
"Death? No. I hope for something else entirely." He stood and walked over to her. "You would have been wasted on Quincy. I make a much better partner."
With a speed that rivaled her own, Darius grabbed her to him and laid his lips on hers. She stared at him, too surprised to pull back or push him away. He ended the kiss and smiled at her. "You are as sweet as I remember."
"What? I don't know you."
"How cruel of you to say you don't remember me. I remember you quite well. You were so shy in those days."
She pushed away from him then. "What are you talking about? What days?"
"When you were human, Medusa." He nodded at her wide-eyed shocked expression.
"My name. How do you know my name?"
"You told it to me."
"You're human," she whispered. "You cannot have known me when I was human. That was back in the eighteen hundreds."
"I am a mage, Medusa. Not only am I a mage, I am a mage lord. Immortality is child's play to me."
She could only stare at him. A distant memory tickled the edges of her mind. A memory from her time as a weak, subservient human who had cowered at the sight of her own shadow. She hated remembering those days. She wasn't that woman any longer.
But this man... His face triggered those memories.
Odd eyes, one blue and one brown, held laughter and mischief in equal parts. His brown hair riddled with streaks of blond and red brushed his neck and the tops of his ears. Not enough to pull into a ponytail but enough for a lover to run her fingers through.
Medusa knew the softness of that hair. It was like petting a cat. Hair so fine should never top a human's head. At the time she had thought he was some wild beast that had taken human form.
She stumbled back a few steps, not believing the direction of her thoughts. It couldn't be. The man she had known in the past was human. The man before her was human too. But he said he possessed immortality. If that fact had been true then as well...
She rasped, "Lord Arundel?"
"The same, sweet Medusa." He bridged the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers once more. "I will remind you of what you have forgotten."
One part of her fought against the memories his kiss invoked while another part reveled in their return.