Showing posts with label History Rewritten. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History Rewritten. Show all posts

Saturday, November 05, 2011

Wild Ride Collection by Willa Okati


Wild Ride (Collection)

by Willa Okati

Cover art: Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-547-1
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense, Dark Fantasy, Time Travel, Wildest West, History Rewritten
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Collection
Page Count: 225


Blurb:
Wild Ride -- Strange dreams tell Nikos he's meant to be more than a Secret Keeper, tracking the predatory Nightlings. Alexei, a time traveler from the past, has come to find Nikos and take him back to the year 2007. It's going to be a wild ride...
Hell at One Dark Window -- It's the end of the world as we knew it. For most folk survival is all that matters, and the only justice to be found comes at the end of a pistol or the point of a stake. Barrett, a vampire and a highwayman, gets his kicks out of stealing from robber barons. He's going to take his human lover, Nathaniel, and getting the hell out of Dodge. So to speak. All he needs is to pull off one last big job...
Blood Red -- On the coldest night of the year, Ros is cast out of a village for the sin of lying with another man. He's meant to go to his death, but stumbles instead into the enchanted garden of a Beast... a vampire Beast. Will the Beast find the salvation he's sought for so long in the arms of a wise and willing story teller?
Sidetracked -- An escort-for-hire, Devon's just been humiliated and stiffed by his patron of the evening. When the subway taking him home switches tracks, Devon finds himself alone with a man in a white mask and gloves, a man who embodies every sexual fantasy Devon's ever had. Is this a dream, or has he found himself Phantom Night Rider?
Excerpt:
Wild Ride (Collection)
Willa Okati
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.


Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight,
Though hell should bar the way!

Alfred Noyes
"The Highwayman"

"You're quiet tonight, lover."
"Am I?"
"Not a word's passed your lips except 'harder,' 'more,' and 'oh, God...' and those I recall being spoken in the heat of passion. You've not made a peep since. Being the smart type myself, despite all appearances, this tells me you've got something going on in that busy mind of yours. You care to share?"
"I don't know yet."
"Well, that's fair." Cool, strong arms wrapped around Nathaniel's waist, pulling him backwards against his lover's body. "Of course, you know I don't plan to let up until you spill the whole pot of beans."
Nathaniel gave a soft laugh despite himself. "I know you won't."
"So? Save us a little trouble, and tell me what's on your mind right now."
"Not yet." Nathaniel raised his hand and placed it palm-down on the cold window glass, where he stood staring out into the night, down to the abandoned stretch of cracked pavement running past his apartment. "There aren't words, so far."
"Hmm. Never known you to be at a loss before." Nathaniel's lover jostled him gently, playfully. "Never did meet a man who liked so much to talk about anything and everything. Apples to anthills. That's why I took a shine to you in the first place -- well, aside from an ass you could bounce quarters off and your pretty face. Sing for me."
"O figlio perdito --"
Nathaniel's lover jostled him. "Smarty-pants."
"Yeah." Nathaniel leaned into his lover's firm, gentle hold, savoring the feel of being held strong and sure by someone who'd never let him fall. Life taught gay men an early lesson: don't trust anyone unless you know for a fact they won't turn on you, and that they mean it when they say they love you. His partner had it all, did it all, said it all, and meant it all.
Nathaniel should have been able to be open about what was worrying him. Yet somehow, he found that he couldn't put his thoughts into words. Not yet.
His lover seemed to accept that. One thing about him, he did know when not to push. He simply held Nathaniel and rocked them soft and easy against one another, sexy yet comforting. "It'll be all right," he murmured after a moment. "Whatever's got you fretting, it'll be just fine."
Nathaniel's lips curved in a smile. "I know."
He reached down to lay his hands over his lover's, feeling the same mild shock as he had the first time they touched, finding them to be cool and satin-slick despite a few calluses. They held still as if carved from marble. No human could ever hold such a pose without so much as twitching.
Nathaniel had learned that there were more things on heaven and earth, Horatio, and so forth, but even he'd had a hard time accepting that the gorgeous man, all tousled hazelnut hair, twinkling blue eyes, and ready wit, was, of all things, a vampire.
Honestly, weren't vampires supposed to at least give a nod to tradition? He'd seen enough wannabes in his time to know the accepted look was unrelieved black from hair to clothes to boots. This man -- vampire -- on the other hand, gloried in wearing a soft flannel shirt, molded-on and faded blue jeans, and clean but battered sneakers. No thick, chunky jewelry, save for a cross necklace.
Yeah, a cross.
When he'd leaned back against the bar counter in the sports watering hole where they'd met, arms crossed, grinning broadly, Nathaniel had cracked up and told the man he had a hell of an imagination.
The vampire had shrugged, and asked for one night to prove himself.
Nathaniel didn't usually go for one-night stands, but this man had the look, he had the wit, and you had to admire someone with balls big enough to tell such outrageous stories.
He'd taken the vampire up on his offer.
And back in his apartment, when sharp fangs that were in no way fake pierced the soft skin of his neck, where throat met shoulder, and the vampire drank deep of his blood, Nathaniel had realized this was no lie. He'd found an honest-to-Satan vampire, and brought him home to bed.
What a bedding it had been, too! Tangled, sweaty limbs, lips and tongues fighting for dominance in wet, devouring kisses, and hands everywhere, from pinching nipples to gently rolling balls to stripping heavy, swollen cocks. Cool fingers, slick with oil, slipping inside Nathaniel, stretching him open with more patience and tenderness than any mortal had ever shown. The feel of the vampire's cock splitting him open, making him ache for more even as it was given to him, and then the blissful burn of being totally filled... well, Nathaniel hadn't minded the blood loss by then.
To his surprise, it still hadn't bothered him when he came down from his orgasm, when he and the vampire lay tangled together in a mass of sweaty sheets, stained with one another's come, marked by new-forming bruises and love bites. He'd let the vampire rest atop him, not breathing but still quaking in every muscle from the force of his climax, and thought, So, this is a vampire. If this is a creature of the night, I'll take him over a human any day.
The vampire had chuckled, as if reading Nathaniel's thoughts. He'd raised his head and grinned. "Barrett," he'd said, stroking Nathaniel's cheek. "My name's Barrett. D'you believe me now?"
Barrett. Nathaniel let himself fall into the soothing, rocking rhythm. When Barrett began to hum, some old tune by Johnny Cash that just fit his raspy voice, Nathaniel almost closed his eyes and purred with the pleasure of it.
Yes, his lover was a killer. More, he was a thief, a gambler, and an all-around bad guy. But Barrett loved Nathaniel with all his un-beating heart, would do anything for him, and that was what mattered in the end.
Soft lips brushed Nathaniel's ear. "So," Barrett murmured, "you feel ready to talk yet?"
Nathaniel stared out the window, at the lonely stretch of highway beneath them. He took in a deep breath, and nodded. "Yes," he said. "Don't leave me tonight. Promise you won't leave me."

Saturday, January 16, 2010

The Queens of Mareb 1: Temair's Fyre by Violet Summers




The Queens of Mareb 1: Temair's Fyre
by Violet Summers
cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-331-6
Genre(s): Paranormal, History Rewritten
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, BBW
Series: The Queens of Mareb
Length: Novella
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1314

Blurb:
On the world of Merab, women rule, while men wield the magic. It's been an equitable system, until now. Temair knew that one day she'd have to step up and take her place as Queen of Emetra; she just didn't expect for it to happen so soon!
Now she finds herself on a Tour of the Queendom in search of her four Consorts –- the four men whose Elemental magic will awaken hers. The first stop of her journey is in the Fyre Lands, where a stern and sexy Fyre Lord strikes sparks off the prickly princess.
It's only when Temair's life is threatened by rebels that Miach, Lord Fyre, realizes the depth of his feelings for the princess. Faced with rebellion and betrayal, Miach and Temair must find the strength within themselves and within each other in order to take the first steps to being true rulers.

Excerpt:
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 Queen's private bed chamber was one of Temair's favorite rooms in the palace. The warm cream and gold of the walls was offset with vibrant jewel-toned accessories that reflected the Elements -- and personalities -- of all four of Temair's fathers. It was comforting and familiar.

What was not comforting and familiar was the sight of her mother, sitting up in bed while Torrent, Temair's Rayne Father, held a cloth to Akasha's head.

Temair shot a furious glance at Denich. "You said she was fine," she muttered as she ran to her mother's side.

Her mother smiled and pulled Temair down to cuddle beside her, much as she'd done when Temair was a small child. "Don't worry so much, Temmie. I am perfectly all right."

A snort had both women turning to Tobin, her Aire father. He was all but vibrating with suppressed excitement; his long, snowy hair lifting faintly in an unseen breeze. The Queen laughed. "My Lord Aire, do you wish to tell our daughter our news?" Tobin's pale gray eyes sparkled, a sure sign of good things to come.

Tobin laced his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels, grinning. "We're pregnant."

Temair didn't know whom to hug first. She turned and wrapped her arms around her mother, tears of joy flooding her eyes, then rose to throw herself into her Aire father's arms. He was laughing as he spun her around and passed her to her Rayne father. By the time she ended up in the arms of Marl, her Earth father, Temair was dizzy with more than joy.

Moving back to her mother's side, Temair snuggled down with her head on her mother's shoulder. "Everything's okay so far?" The entire family had grieved Akasha's inability to carry another baby to term, but Temair had also battled loneliness until Nuriel and Sorcha had come to foster with her, as their mothers had with Akasha. The castle could be a very empty place for a small girl alone.

She sat up abruptly as a horrifying thought filled her mind. "Oh, no," she breathed. Her mother's sigh verified the horrible realization she'd had. "It's time, isn't it?"

Akasha pulled her back down, into her embrace. "I'm going to the country, at least for the duration of my pregnancy," her mother confirmed. Temair gave her a pleading look, but subsided immediately when her mother added, "I won't let anything interfere with this child's well-being."

"Of course," Temair responded quietly. She'd known this day would come, but her mother was still so young and vital that she hadn't expected it for years. Her stomach cramped at the thought of the responsibility.

"There's more, Tem," Denich added, sitting next to her on the side of the bed.

Her tummy tightened further. "I'm... I'm expected to find my Consorts... Now."

Denich took her hand and sent healing warmth surging through her body. "You must be bound to your Consorts before you can ascend."

Temair bit her bottom lip. She barely knew what to do with one male, much less four. She was only twenty-four! She should have years before she had to think about this. Oh, and by the four elements, she would have to visit each royal house in search of her mates.

She was well on her way to a full out panic attack when her mother's words penetrated. "Of course, I won't abdicate until you've returned from your tour," Akasha was saying. "Once you've returned, the ministers will help you to untangle all the political red-tape involved in ruling." Her mother paused, looking worried. "There is one item that I need to tell you about."

Temair waited. Her fathers, all four of them, looked outraged, while her mother looked troubled.

"There are rumors throughout the land that factions of men plan to rebel against us and our sister Queens."

Temair sucked in a startled breath. That was the last thing she'd expected to hear. "Why?"

The Queen shrugged her shoulders. "There are several theories floating about. Some men have claimed abuse by their wives. Others don't like how property rights are distributed. We have always had grumbles but now there have been a few skirmishes between our guards and the rebels."

"Idiot men," muttered Marl. The Earth Lord had no patience with what he saw as foolishness, and clearly this supposed rebellion fell into that category. "Maybe if they were doing their job and protecting their women, they'd get the rewards they feel they deserve."

Akasha sent Marl a loving smile. "Not all men are as remarkable as my men, my lord."

Marl returned her smile with one of such surprising sweetness it nearly caused Temair's tears to return.

Akasha turned back to her daughter. "Temair, my darling, you are more than ready to take my place. Choose your mates well. Choose men who will be good advisors to you, but choose also men who light your heart." Another painfully sweet look passed between the Queen and her four Consorts.

Temair nodded her head and kissed her mother's cheek. Inside she was all but screaming in terror. While she didn't much care for it, she'd learned the protocol and history. She'd read every biography and autobiography of the Queens of Merab she could get her hands on. But all the book-knowledge in the world couldn't prepare her for the actuality of being Queen. There was no point in arguing about it, though. The only thing begging for a delay would accomplish was to add stress to her mother's already perilous pregnancy. No, Temair would have to suck it up and do what was best for her country, her family, and her unborn baby sister or brother.
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1314

Friday, December 11, 2009

Majesty Mysteries: Silver Spider by Lena Austin



Majesty Mysteries: Silver Spider
by Lena Austin


Cover art by Marteeka Karland


ISBN: 978-1-60521-368-2
Genre(s):
Series: Majesty Mysteries



Blurb:

Madge Majesty is a harpy mystery writer and amateur sleuth in Edwardian Britain with a nose for murder and her faithful chauffeur Hayden, who is a gay telekenetic ex-thief. This time, the secretive Duke of Aberstwyth invited her for a murder mystery party, but he’s the first victim! Now it’s up to Madge to solve whodunit from the motley assortment of gays, bisexuals, and very nervous heterosexuals, all of whom have more than just their sexual foibles to hide! Is it the cross-dressing vampire, the packless werewolf, the fag hag doctor, the straight gargoyle major domo, or the promiscuous man who seems bent on getting everyone in his bed, including Hayden?



Excerpt:




Time was running out, and she had no notion of who was the murderer. Worse, Madge couldn't even rule out who it was not. It seemed everyone had a secret in this place. Why would Jazz, who was very careful about every detail, hire Reuben Proctor? Did Jazz know about Reuben? Well, she could ask. Madge turned around and marched back inside the castle with a startled Hayden trailing in her wake.
Jazz's office door was once again closed, but not locked. The cook, bustling around preparing supper, could spare them only a glance and a shout across the table. "Gone to the station to pick up those Hereford vampires! 'E told me to tell you to put the keys in the top drawer of his desk when you were done with 'em, Mrs. Majesty. Said 'e trusted you."
Hayden leaned close. "Providence, Madame. Shall we check Mr. Proctor's employee file? You know Mr. Jazz is sure to keep everything neatly recorded."
Madge fished the keys out of her pocket and waved thanks to Mrs. Grater. For once, she could brazenly walk into a room and snoop. For a few moments, Madge did permit herself the pleasure of running her fingers enviously over Jazz's enormous desk, made probably right in the room since she doubted anything less than four strong men could lift the heavy English oak. As usual, the surface was polished to a high shine with the same beeswax and lemon, and the whole room was as neat and sparse as a priest's cell.
Hayden dropped a black cloth over the mirror, his lip curled with distaste. Poor darling really did value his privacy more than one might assume. Since he was more experienced in where things were located, Madge stepped back. With expert ease, he picked the lock on the only drawer large enough to contain employee files.
Of course, the drawer was neatly alphabetized, but in Old Latin. Naturally, since Jazz was nearly as old as Madge, he'd make things comfortable for himself and assure a small measure of security. Most humans and many paranormals couldn't read Old Latin.
Madge could, and she did. Reuben Proctor's file had little in it but a newspaper clipping from -- aha! -- Rome. "I found a clue, Hayden. It seems Mr. Roberto Proctorio was arrested out of his hotel room and accused of jewel theft a few years ago. However, he was acquitted."
"Very interesting, Madame. What else is in there?" Hayden knelt beside her on the floorboards. He pulled out Mr. Proctor's file, and a photograph, caught between that file and the next, slid out. "Oops. Sorry."
The photograph showed a younger Reuben standing in the gazebo of the castle grinning happily and tearing up a certificate. The grainy nature of the picture -- clearly not one of Mr. Vandergriff's superior works -- made reading the certificate impossible, but the gold seal and placement of the illegible words made it clear what it was.
"Interesting, isn't it Madame?" Hayden handed her the file and clipping. "I do wish we could read the nature of the cer..."
She'd turned to listen to him, and found herself nose to nose with Hayden. His warm breath caressed her cheek, and Madge was inexplicably struck with the urge to put him on his back right there on the oak floor of Jazz's office and have her wicked way with him. An absolutely foolish lustful moment, she told herself rather sternly. After all, Hayden preferred men, as far as Madge knew. So why did she keep staring into his blue eyes?
Likewise, Hayden kept staring into hers. Madge wondered what he saw. Did he see Hel in her amber-colored eyes? For three heartbeats, his gaze lowered to her mouth before snapping back to her eyes. He cleared his throat. "What perfume are you wearing, Ma-Madame? I should like to get you something for your birthday."
Had he actually considered kissing her for that brief space in time? Her mind, normally so sharp it cut the wind, faltered. Madge uttered the truth in the same hushed tone he'd used. "I don't have a birthday."
His firm lips curled upward. "Neither do I. Perhaps we should choose a date to celebrate together?"
"Yes." Madge meant agreement to more than merely the birthday suggestion, and they both knew it. What deviltries made her do it, Madge couldn't say. She leaned in and brushed his lips with hers.
His arm slid around her waist and pulled her closer, and they deepened the kiss. She'd forgotten how strong Hayden was physically. Plastered up against him, Madge couldn't help but note the solidity of his chest and -- oh, my! How well she remembered that lovely cock. Erect and pressed against her lower belly, it felt as hard and massive as the oak desk they knelt behind. She couldn't wait for him to shove the enormous cock deep inside her until they both screamed for mercy. Then, abruptly, he let her go.
Madge fell back against Jazz's chair, reminding her of where they were and what they were supposed to be doing. Her heart hammered, she couldn't get her breath, and she desperately needed to change her knickers before dinner. Madge hadn't been slammed that hard with lust since... well, never. That was even more shocking. She couldn't think. So, did she keep her mouth shut? No! "I thought you preferred men?"
Hayden gave her a crooked smile. He too breathed heavily, and his trousers tented out to make a rather impressive bulge in his uniform. He reached out with a trembling hand and caressed her cheek. "I do, under normal circumstances, but it's only a preference, Madame."
"Madge."
"Eh?" He frowned. "What?"
"Madge. Given the circumstances, it seems out of place to be formal, don't you agree?" Madge babbled like a schoolgirl! No matter that she recognized what she was doing, Madge couldn't shut up. "It's not my real name, but... um..."
"You're flustered." His smile was one of wonderment and delight. "I've rattled you. What a feeling of power. I'm delighted." He leaned in and kissed her again, very briefly, and not half of what she wanted. "What is your real name?"
Whatever lust god had hold of her also was the god of truth. Her face heated as if she'd turned toward the sun. No one but the Furies knew her name. Why was Madge about to tell a human? "Marigold." She closed her eyes and waited for the laughter at a vicious harpy with the name of a flower.
"My favorite flower. No wonder I can't help myself." He brushed her lips once more. "Marigold, that orange and red color of flames. Like your eyes of amber and flame. You're irresistible to me, Madge." He got up and pulled her to her feet. "But I've forgotten my place terribly. Forgive me. I'll take a walk to cool my... head." He strode out of the room before Madge could utter a word.
Madge put the photograph back in the file with the newspaper clipping and filed it neatly in its place. Then she shut the drawer. "Well, that's that. I believe I'd like to ask Mr. Vandergriff when he came to live here. I do hope he's dried his tears by now!" Her voice growled with rage and frustrated lust.
Perhaps Hayden wasn't the only one that needed cooling off. Madge put the keys in Jazz's desk drawer as he'd asked, whisked off the black cloth, and made a dignified exit. She walked up the stairs, found her room blindly, stripped, and stepped into the bathroom. Perhaps a soak in the tub might work. Then Madge picked up the sea sponge awaiting her need and heaved it against the tiled wall of the bathroom. "Perhaps I should just soak my head!" If there were a few tears adding to the bath water, no one would know.