Congratulations to Changeling CAPA Nominees!

 

Congratulations to the following authors on their CAPA nominations. I think I have everyone, but if I missed anyone I apologize!

Favorite erotic author category:

Leila Brown
Violet Summers
Melinda Barron
Angela Knight
K.Z. Snow
B.J. McCall
Moira Rogers

Paranormal erotic romance category:

Dark Kisses
by Anne Kane

The Dhampir
by Angela Knight

How Not to Date an Alien
by Stephanie Burke

Again, congratulations!!
Kate

http://www.kate-hill.com

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Savage Healing by Moira Rogers

Savage Healing

by Moira Rogers cover art by Sahara Kelly

ISBN: 978-1-60521-356-9

Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, BDSM

Theme(s): Werewolves

Series: Temple of Luna

Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1344

Blurb:
For years, Celine has ruled the Savage Temple as the high priestess of Luna, one of the most powerful women in their world. She gave up everything for her position, including the only man she's ever loved. Free now of her duties, she's ready for a second chance -- until she stumbles into a trap guaranteed to wake Karim's dark side.
Karim gave up on love the day Celine chose her goddess over him, but a bruised ego can't keep him from coming to her aid when she calls for help. Rescuing Celine from her captors might be easy, but controlling his slide into protective, feral warrior is not. Capable of breaking her body as surely as she broke his heart, his only chance is to trust her to tame his beast, even if it means falling in love with her all over again.
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.
Karim let another arrow fly from his bow and turned to his cousin's pregnant wife. "Avani, you should know better than to worry about me. No matter what sorts of torments our king has in store for me, I'm sure I'll be all right."
Avani lifted her own bow, and the healer hovering a few paces away made his disapproval known by clearing his throat loudly. The young queen ignored him as she drew the bowstring back with a graceful ease that credited the warrior reputation of her family.
Except for the fact that her arrow, when released, flew several yards wide of the target.
She sighed and lowered her arms. "Oh well. At least I can blame it on being pregnant now."
"Believably?" Karim didn't bother to hide his affectionate smile. "You were just as terrible before the child."
"Yes, but you're the only one who dares say so to my face." She set the bow aside and reached out a hand to him. "Why don't you escort me back to the nice shaded bench before my hovering guardian calls your sister? If Zahra shows up and fusses about me, Rais will try to lock me into our room again and I might murder the father of my child."
"Goddess, no." It was the threat of his sister's presence that spurred Karim to offer Avani his arm. "Present company excluded, of course, but I despise the happily married. Zahra won't give me a moment's peace these days. She's after me to find a wife."
"Oh, the horror." She leaned on him just enough that he knew she was more tired than she'd let on. "You should know that she's been conspiring with Rais. I don't understand this business about the Temple, but it only seems fair to warn you."
Karim's blood chilled, but he kept his easy smile. "Rais has been threatening to appoint me to the Temple as a trainer. He'd never really do it, though."
Color rose in her cheeks, a charming pink that couldn't be blamed on the sun. "Forgive me, Karim, but if memory serves that's not the sort of position a man can take if he's not... enthusiastic about it."
He laughed. "There's enthusiasm, and then there's . I might be capable, but that doesn't mean I'm thrilled about it."
Avani peered up at him. "Are you going to tell me why he'd do such a thing? I do worry about you, Karim, even if you think I shouldn't. I've grown rather fond of you."
Why, indeed? "He'd do it because my cousin is a big believer in confronting your demons." And Karim's demons were very specific, very female... and still, for the time being, very much in charge of the Temple of Luna.
The queen's eyes narrowed. "You told me once that a priestess of Luna had taken your heart. Are you saying she's still there?"
Karim merely smiled and led her through the courtyard.
Two steps from the door she stopped walking. "It was never the king, was it? It was you. You're the one they whisper about."
He avoided her gaze. "I haven't seen Celine in years. I doubt I'd even recognize her now." Liar.
"I always thought..." Her fingers tightened on his arm. "It explains so much. It explains everything."
"So much you shouldn't be worrying over, Avani."
"I thought she hated me, you know. That I'd disappointed her somehow. She couldn't even look at me when your aunt summoned me to court because she knew I was being summoned for you. If Rais hadn't come to his senses and come back for me, I rather think she would have hated me in truth."
Only a few years ago, the words would have elicited hope. Now, he shook his head. "A romantic fancy, little one. I doubt Celine even remembers me."
"If that's what you wish to believe..." Her tone was more than a little irritated. "I was speaking out of concern."
Avani's temper was legendary, and pregnancy hadn't dulled it. Karim patted her hand. "I know that, and I appreciate it. But, like I said, you shouldn't worry yourself."
"I'll worry myself over what I like --" Her voice cut off as Rais appeared on the other side of the courtyard. "Oh, damn. If you tell him I picked up a bow, I'll encourage him to send you to the Temple."
He lowered his voice to a whisper. "And if you tell him how badly I don't want to go, I'll spill the beans about the horseback riding."
"Unforgivable bully."
"I'm ruthless, darling. Don't forget it."
Rais strolled up to them and arched one eyebrow. "You both look guilty as hell. What have you been plotting?"
"What's going to happen to you if you try to confine me to my bedroom again," Avani replied. But as tart as her tone was, she slipped her hand from Karim's arm and moved to embrace her mate with an eagerness impossible to hide.
"Mm-hmm." The king spared a smile for his queen as he slid his arm around her. "Karim, I thought you had better sense than that."
"I do, cousin." He smiled lazily in spite of the emptiness that yawned inside him. Watching the pair indulge their seemingly effortless happiness always left him feeling lonely. "Did you need me?"
"We've just received a messenger." Rais's expression was carefully neutral as he held out a sealed envelope. "This was delivered for you."
Karim took it, instantly recognizing both the seal and the scrawled loops of his name, and it suddenly made sense that Rais would hand it over himself. "It's from Celine."
"Celine?" Avani's brow furrowed. "That's not the Temple seal. Has Lexa taken over the Temple? Surely not so abruptly, without a ceremony or banquet. Celine was high priestess for years."
Something was wrong. Karim almost fumbled the letter as he opened it and quickly scanned the small, neat script. "She's gone back to her hometown. She says there's some sort of unrest there."
Rais frowned. "Unrest?"
The letter was vague. "I don't know. She only asks if I know of someone trustworthy who might come to help."
The king snorted. "I do. Pack for travel. Go see what's wrong and report back. I don't have any available troops, but I can send my personal guards, if need be."
"Perhaps she just wants to see you," Avani ventured. "Celine has favor with dozens of powerful men. And she wouldn't hesitate to make demands of Rais himself, if she thought she had reason."
"I doubt it." It might have been years since he'd last seen her, but he still knew Celine. If she wanted nothing more than to see him, she'd simply ask. "I'll leave at once."
"Be careful." Avani reached out to touch his arm. "And take care of Celine. I owe her a great deal."
"As do I." Rais clapped him on the back. "Send word as soon as you arrive."
"I will." If he caught a shuttle, he could be there in just under two days. His heart thumped painfully as he considered it.
Perhaps it was as Avani said -- everything was fine, and Celine only desired his presence.
Even as he hoped it was true, he didn't dare believe it.
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1344

Savage Lessons by Moira Rogers

Savage Lessons

by Moira Rogers cover art by Sahara Kelly

ISBN: 978-1-60521-355-2

Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, BDSM

Theme(s): Werewolves

Series: Temple of Luna

Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1306
Blurb:
Born into poverty and obscurity, Lexa worked harder than most to earn a place as a novice at the Savage Temple, where women trained in the art of pleasure heal the souls of battle-weary warriors. While others might be content to enjoy the luxury and prestige due a priestess of Luna, Lexa aspires to something greater -- the honor of wearing the silver robes and the security that comes with being one of their world's most powerful women. But first she must prove herself worthy by testing her strength against the Temple's most infamous trainer, a near-feral wolf whose job it is to educate women in the art of controlling a warrior through submission.
Dejan doesn't deal with novices. Time spent as a prisoner of the humans left his soul fractured and his beast far too close to the surface, making him dangerous but useful. When he accepts Lexa as his pupil he has no way of knowing the novice has the power to bring him to his knees. Their passion doesn't fade when she's promoted to the Temple's elite circle, but the rules allow no involvement between a trainer and priestess. Caught between ambition and need, it's only a matter of time before their forbidden affair threatens the lives they've fought to build.

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.

Lexa kept her stance relaxed and tried not to let her excitement and nerves show as she faced the Temple's high priestess. "I'm ready, Celine. Now. Today."

"So you say." Celine's fingers tapped an absent rhythm against the arm of her chair. "So your teachers say. You've worked hard."

She'd busted her ass. Most of the other acolytes came from privileged families, and had been guided since birth toward the service of Luna. Were it not for the patronage of the queen mother, Lexa wouldn't have made it through the door of the Temple. "I've tried my best because I wish, more than anything, to serve."

"As did I, when I was your age. But I also knew where I wanted to be in ten years, and twenty. Do you?"

Most priestesses were gone by thirty, advantageously married off to soldiers returning from the war. Lexa didn't plan on being one of them, but she also wasn't ready to bare her soul to Celine. "I haven't decided, but I am giving the matter no small amount of consideration."

Celine nodded. "You're strong, and so is your magic. Strong enough to give you a chance at silver robes someday."

The words soothed the desperate longing inside her. "Kweku said he has nothing more to teach me. I checked the files, and there's only one high-level trainer unoccupied at the moment." The one she'd wanted all along. The best.

"Dejan." The high priestess's expression was unreadable. "If you've been checking files, my dear, you know that Dejan rarely works with novices. In fact, I believe that's common knowledge throughout the Temple."

"I could convince him to make an exception."

"You're assuming he's the one you'd have to convince."

Of course he was. Celine's expression was skeptical, but... "We wouldn't be having this conversation if you weren't considering it, and you wouldn't be considering it if it wasn't the best step for me."

Silence stretched out between them, broken only by the soft click of Celine's nails against the arm of her chair as she resumed her slow tapping. After several tense seconds, she smiled. "Looking at you is like looking into the past. In the ten years since I became high priestess, Lexa, not one other girl with your fire has passed through these halls." "I would say you flatter me, Celine, but that didn't sound like a compliment." Curious, she smiled and tilted her head. "I remind you of yourself?"

"Very much so." Celine gestured to her opulent surroundings. "There are worse lives to live. I serve my Goddess and my King. I receive the respect and deference of men and women born to privilege I couldn't have imagined as a child. Is this what you aspire to?"

It was tempting, seductive, and beyond comprehension. "Even the life of an acolyte has been more luxurious than anything I'd experienced before coming to the Temple, Celine. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want respect and security."

"I didn't rise this far by being born into wealth or gently reared. But think hard about where you want to be before you take this step. Respect is already yours as a novice of the Temple. And security can be found as easily in the arms of a man who loves you. Dejan teaches only the best of the best, the women who aren't interested in a comfortable life as a warrior's mate."

Lexa had seen the sort of fleeting security one found in a man's arms. She'd watched her mother flit from warrior to warrior, with no thought of tomorrow, much less forever. "I want him for my teacher. I wouldn't let you down."

The high priestess nodded, but Lexa couldn't tell if the look in the older woman's dark eyes was regret or satisfaction. "Then you'll have him tonight. And in the morning we'll discuss your future at the Temple."

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1306

A Double Winner for the Cover Art Contest!

We've never had a dead-even tie before, so this is a first. Two book covers won the contest simultaneously!

Our thanks to Marteeka Karland for this composite of both winners, side by side. Congratulations to Moira Rogers and Belinda McBride, as well as the cover artist for both-- Sahara Kelly!

Savage Need by Moira Rogers

Savage Need
by Moira Rogers

Cover art by Sahara Kelly
ISBN: 978-1-60521-241-8
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, BDSM
Theme(s): Werewolves
Series: Temple of Luna
Length: Novella

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1223

Blurb:

Zahra has devoted her life to serving Luna. The savage needs of the werewolf warriors can take their toll, and she serves as a healer, treating not only her fellow priestesses but anyone in need. Still, she's never seen anyone so wounded as Jarek, an old friend who's been through hell -- and who doesn't seem to remember her.
Jarek was always considered the most civilized wolf in his unit, a rare healer trained in werewolf magic as well as the medicine of their human enemies. When an injury shatters his self-control, the beast inside him takes over, leaving only the wolf. A wolf who remembers the scent of the mate he always needed... and is determined to claim her at any cost.

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.

Even if Balthasar hadn't been standing guard by the wall, Zahra would have known better than to go near the man in the corner. His eyes were more animal than anything else, and she shivered, remembering the intelligence that had once shone from their ice-blue depths. "Hello, Jarek."
He didn't speak, but his gaze stayed fixed on her face as a flash of something flickered across his features.
"It's been a long time." She moved slowly to sit in the chair in the center of the room. "That research elective, yes? With Dr. Bautista?"
His lips parted. When he spoke, the words were hoarse. Gravelly. "I'm a medic."
"Yes, Jarek." She leaned forward a little. "We went to school together. Do you remember me? My name is Zahra."
He lunged so fast the stool he'd been seated on crashed against the far wall at the same time his hands curled around the back of her chair. Strong arms formed a cage, trapping her within a circle of masculine power and heat. She choked back the shriek that welled in her throat and steeled herself for an attack.
But none came. He inhaled deeply, drawing in her scent. In a mere moment, Balthasar dragged him away. Then Jarek grew violent, twisting to attack with an angry snarl and a blow strong enough to send the guard reeling. He turned and backed toward her, putting his body squarely between her and the guard. "Mine."
Hot, possessive magic filled the space between them. He might not have remembered her, but something about her was familiar enough to draw him close, and she could use that to reach him.
Zahra signaled to Balthasar to stand down, and eased up beside Jarek. Magic flared again, chafing her nerve endings and heating her skin. "Do you need me?" she asked quietly.
She was the King's cousin. It was the guard's duty to keep her safe, and he knew it. "Out of the question. He's feral, Zahra. If he needs relief, he needs a senior priestess."
Jarek growled and edged to the side, placing his body in front of hers again. "Stay away."
"He doesn't need a senior priestess." She raised one hand to his face. "You need a healer, don't you, Jarek?"
He turned his head and caught the tip of one finger between his teeth, a gesture of dominance and claiming. On the other side of the room, Balthasar hissed out a curse and reached for the com unit clipped to his belt. "I'm calling the high priestess. Your uncle will snap my neck if I let you do this."
"Call her," Zahra urged. "Will you wait, Jarek, if I promise to return soon?"
"I don't want another woman." Jarek turned to face her, one hand coming up to trap her fingers against his cheek. There was no hint of recognition in those frozen eyes, nothing of the brilliant, civilized healer she'd known. He was as wild as any warrior and twice as hungry.
And all his attention, all his magic, was focused on her. He'd take her, sate that wild hunger in the depths of her body. Zahra could barely breathe, and her cunt tingled in reaction. "No other woman," she swore, ignoring the guard's incoherent protest. "You have my vow as a priestess of Luna."
"Priestess." He seemed to be testing the word. He shook his head. "What's your name?"
"Zahra." Doubt almost made her falter. She couldn't lie to herself and think that he knew her deep down, under the trauma that had left his psyche in jagged shards. He didn't know her. "My name is Zahra."
His hand came up and his fingers touched her lips, traced their shape as if trying to memorize it. "You'll come back."
"Yes. Balthasar will take you to my room. Please go with him and wait for me there. Can you do that for me?"
Balthasar protested again. "Zahra, I can't --"
Fury seized her. "I am a royal daughter, and you will do as I say!" She fixed him with a glare and took a deep breath. "I know my duties and my place. Do you know yours?"
Balthasar's face closed off as brittle resentment filled the room. But he nodded. "Yes, priestess."
The tension in Jarek's body eased a tiny bit. His fingers ghosted over her cheek, over her hair and the line of her throat. "Zahra." From his lips, her name sounded like a benediction, a prayer.
"Yes." She backed away slowly, keeping her gaze on his. "I won't be long."

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1223

Savage Possession by Moira Rogers

Savage Possession
by Moira Rogers

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-242-5
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, BDSM
Theme(s): Werewolves
Series: Temple of Luna
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1188

Blurb:

As a novice in the Temple of Luna, Avani is training for the day she'll become a revered priestess, with the skills and magic needed to soothe the feral warriors fighting a brutal war against the world's remaining human colonies. Though forbidden contact with the warriors who have come to the temple for relief, Avani can't keep her distance from Rais, her uncle's protégé and one of the most dangerous fighters the wolves have ever known.

As the royal heir, Rais is destined to take a mate and ascend to the throne, but first he must complete his service as a warrior. The Savage Temple's priestesses offer him relief in the meantime, though there's one he's vowed never to touch. He remembers Avani as the innocent girl she was when they met, but the intervening years have made her a woman. A woman the wolf burns to claim...

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.

"You're overdue, Rais."
How his cousin managed to pack so much admonition into three words, he'd never know. "Not so terribly, Zahra."
"Three moons." Her white robes swished softly as she walked, a familiar sound in the Temple. "Almost four. Dangerous."
"I know danger, cousin." The far door of the hall opened, admitting the noises and scents of the bathing pools and lush flora in the courtyard. Rais kept his eyes closed and relished the gentle sounds. On the battlefield, nothing blocked out the violence and destruction, the bodies of dead men and wolves alike. Closing one's eyes might eclipse the blood and rent, burned flesh for a few moments, but it left behind either pained screams or dead silence to assault the senses.
Here, at least, peace reigned in the quiet.
Zahra's cuffs jingled as she laid a hand on his arm. "This could well be your last visit. Has your father spoken with you?"
"Yes." Rais gritted his teeth. "He feels my birthday feast would be even more festive if we were to celebrate my coronation as well."
"And is he wrong?" Zahra's bright green eyes glimmered with amusement. "You are nearing the end age, after all."
"End age, my ass." Not yet forty years old, and put out to graze like an elderly cow. "I have plenty of fighting years left in me."
"But your responsibilities are different now. Choose a mate, settle down, start a fami..." The humor in her gaze faded. "And rule, Rais. That is who you are."
"Perhaps." Even if it felt like abandoning the soldiers under his command. Rais changed the subject. "So who am I to see? Lilavati was pleasant."
"Mmm, and she spent a month after your last visit telling the other priestesses you were sure to mate her when the time came to choose your queen."
"Damn." She hadn't been that pleasant. "Not her, then."
"Siobhan?"
Rais called to mind the short, curvy redhead and decided she would do nicely. Before he could answer, the door opened behind them and soft footsteps crossed the floor. It had to be a priestess -- he could hear her robes, for one thing, but more telling was the call of her magic. Unlike his own clan's; unlike it enough to awaken the sleeping beast with a flare of lust.
His cock stirred, and he scrubbed his hands over his face with a groan. "Just get me anyone. And hurry."
The woman behind them cleared her throat. "Zahra, they need you in the infirmary. There was an accident with one of the generators. No one's dead, but at least three workers were injured."
He had a voice now to go with the magic. "Avani." He turned and almost stumbled. She'd been a child the last time he'd visited her uncle's home, no more than sixteen. Now, she was beautiful, fully grown into her lithe limbs and strong features.
And she was nervous. Her gaze touched on his and jerked away, and Rais crossed his arms over his chest. "Do they need me?"
"Arrogant ass." Zahra waved a hand at him as she hurried toward the door. "Avani can help you."
Avani smiled, slow and shy but with a bit of the teasing edge he remembered. "Rais. If you'd like, I could find a room for you to wait in. I'm afraid you're going to find yourself stalked by most of my fellow novices if you don't get out of sight. They've been gossiping all morning."
The edge in her smile coupled with her magic made him even harder, and he tried not to look grumpy. "Let me guess. They all aspire to be my mate."
Her full lips pursed, as if she was trying to hold back a smile. "Of course. Who wouldn't want to sit at your feet and bask in your glory?"
Rais didn't bother to hide his own grin. "Only you, Avani." He offered her his arm and ignored the rush of heat that overtook him. Having her wasn't an option. Even if she'd finished with her training, she was off limits. "Walk with me. How is your uncle?"
"He's well. Enjoying some time with his grandchildren now. My cousins have been quite prolific." Magic brushed over him as she settled her hand around his arm, a softly submissive power that was gentle and eager all at the same time.
Every dominant instinct in him suddenly took far more notice of her. "And what of you? Waiting for a soldier of your own to return from war?"
She lifted her free arm with a put-upon sigh. "You didn't notice? I'm a novice. Still."
He studied the gold bands on her sleeves with a raised eyebrow. "You must be nearly twenty-one by now, Avani. What's holding you back?"
Her cheeks flushed as she studied the floor. "I'm twenty-three. But twenty-two is the average age. Some women just need time to grow into their power."
Or they didn't belong in the Temple, wearing Luna's robes. "You've not had your first warrior, then." He shouldn't have been so pleased by the realization.
"I've had my training," she retorted, a hint of challenge in that soft voice. "I know how to gentle a warrior."
"Not one like me." Rais was shocked to hear the challenge returned in his own words.
She stopped in front of a door and turned, tilting her head back until her gaze met his. "Even a prince is just a man in the dark. Or do royalty have exotic tastes?"
He backed her against the door in a surge of sudden, instinctive movement. "A lesson unlearned, novice. Warriors aren't men, especially not in the dark."

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1188

Down and Dirty: Ante Up by Moira Rogers

Down & Dirty: Ante Up
by Moira Rogers

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-078-0
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal
Theme(s): Werewolves
Series: Down & Dirty
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1145

Blurb:
Thomas Crawford is Lonely River's beta, and it's high time he settled down. He's had his eye on Charlotte Daniel, the owner of the Full Moon Saloon -- and independent cuss of a woman -- for months, but she either hasn't noticed his gentle courting... or she's ignoring him. But when some local wolves lodge a complaint about her questionable business practices it's Thomas's job to investigate, even if it means the woman he wants will hate him forever.
Lottie has noticed Thomas's courting, all right, but it's a little too polite for her tastes. She wants a man with fire and sensuality, not daisies and poetry. Then he kisses her. Once she gets a glimpse of the passion burning in him, Lottie decides a slow, careful seduction isn't a bad idea at all. But she'll do it her way.

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.

"Here we go." Lottie set the silver tea service on the table with a clink and beamed at her guests. "Oh, I forgot to ask if you'd prefer coffee, Jack."
The alpha smiled and rubbed a hand through his tousled hair. "Coffee would be great, Lottie."
Ginny eyed the tray with a delicately arched brow. "Booze is perfectly appropriate to serve after dinner too, you know."
Lottie tried not to snort as she straightened and headed back for the kitchen. "Coffee and whiskey, coming up."
She rattled the percolator on the stove, deliberately making more noise than necessary. The house was too quiet, had been since Hazel had moved out, and Lottie found herself trying to fill the silence. She called out into the parlor, "Have either of you seen Hazel and Oliver yet?"
The sound of Jack's snort drifted into the kitchen. "I stopped by for about five minutes. Longest five minutes of my life."
Ginny just laughed. "Turns out, my fiancé only likes overt displays of affection when they involve his hands and my ass."
Lottie drifted back to the open doorway as the coffee began to brew. "She's young and in love."
"Mm-hmm. Oliver's got the love part down, but he's no spring chicken." Ginny grinned. "If Hazel's not careful, she's going to kill him."
"He seems in fine shape to me." Lottie wove her hands together and watched as Ginny reached for Jack's hand and twined their fingers together. She didn't even seem to be aware she'd done it. "I'll wait a week or so longer before I go calling, though. Just to be on the safe side."
Her friend flashed her a pointed look. "And what about you? I noticed Thomas has been stopping by a lot lately, and he asks me about you all the time."
"Ginny." Jack sounded exasperated. "I told you to keep your nose out of it."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "I just want to know when she's going to put the poor man out of his misery, that's all. It isn't right."
Lottie's back stiffened, and her easy smile almost faltered. She knew from experience that neither of them would notice her small slip of control. "Thomas Crawford is a very nice man," she said carefully.
"Nice." Ginny blew out a breath. "Most people consider that a plus, Lottie."
"It is, I'm sure."
"So how come, when you say it, you make it sound like he has the plague?"
Lottie stifled a disgusted noise and turned back to the kitchen. The image of Thomas's face, smiling and thoughtful, rose in her mind. She pushed it away as she checked the coffee. Thomas might have been carefully, persistently courting her, but he had yet to indicate anything beyond a polite interest. And she'd rather be alone than married to a man only politely interested in her.
Ginny had followed her and was standing in the doorway, so Lottie lied. "I'm not looking to marry right now, that's all." She'd never planned on coming to Greenbriar to open a business, much less a brothel, but there'd been a need and it had seemed smart to fill it… and make a bundle of money in the process. So what if that had left her no time to fulfill her original goal -- to find someone to love?
Ginny wore a dark look on her face. "You're lying. You'd be happier than a frog in a puddle, and you know it."
Lottie accidentally brushed her hand against the hot metal of the percolator and drew it back with a hiss. She watched as the reddened patch of skin slowly disappeared. "Doesn't mean I'm going to marry the first man to ask me. Which Thomas hasn't done, by the way."
"He's far from the first man to ask," Ginny countered. "And he'd probably get around to asking if you seemed the slightest bit inclined to accept."
"Virginia." She paused and took a deep breath. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"You're lonely."
"I'm --" Lottie's voice broke, and she cleared her throat. "I'm fine, Ginny, but thank you for your concern." She pulled another china pot from a cabinet and filled it with the fragrant, steaming coffee. "You know where the whiskey decanter is. Help yourself, and let's visit and talk about something else."
The scuff of boots across the floor was the only warning before Jack appeared at Ginny's shoulder. "I wasn't trying to listen, Lottie, but you know I could hear everything. Can I just say one thing? And then we'll both keep out of it."
As if he could make that promise for stubborn-ass Ginny Howard. She kept her voice steady as she replied. "Of course, Jack. You're always welcome to be frank with me, you know that."
Jack smiled. "Thomas has to act nice and restrained, because the humans have to feel safe dealing with him. That's his job as my second. But there's a lot more to him than most people see, and he's got it bad for you. You don't have to give him a chance, but at least let him know he doesn't have one."
His words kindled a thread of hope in Lottie. She and Thomas got on well enough, and she'd enjoyed the scant amount of time she'd spent alone with him. The only thing that had been missing between them was the fire. The passion. "I'll bear that in mind, Jack."
"Good." Jack's hand curled around the back of Ginny's shoulder in a possessive gesture. "And we're going to stay out of it, aren't we, sweetheart?"
Ginny's mouth twisted into a dissatisfied pout, but she nodded. "You're right, Lottie. Let's talk about something else."
Lottie used a quilted potholder to lift the coffee pot. "Thank you, Ginny. I'm dying to know if you've made any of your own wedding arrangements yet."
The taller woman blushed, and Lottie knew Ginny had been adequately distracted from meddling in affairs between herself and Thomas. She stifled a sigh of relief and followed the couple back into the parlor. The less she had to think about what she'd do or say when Thomas did get around to proposing, the better.
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After Hours 1: Tequila Sunset by Moira Rogers

After Hours 1: Tequila Sunset
by Moira Rogers
cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-109-1
Genre(s): Paranormal, Dark Fantasy, BDSM
Theme(s): Werewolves
Series: After Hours
Length: Novella




http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1114





Blurb:

Detective and werewolf Zack Elliott visits Last Call to satisfy his need to dominate, but it doesn’t satisfy his unrequited love for a woman he can’t have. Still, he’s managed to keep his desire for her under control… until a chance encounter in their apartment building sends him back to the bar for relief.

Iris has spent the last two decades living a strict life of self-denial as New York City’s only demon social worker. She lives in fear of the power inside her, and the dark needs that tempted her down a dangerous road before. But love and need are leading her down that path again, and her only hope is to give in to the man she loves and trust that he’s strong enough to keep her safe from the darkness inside.

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.

Zack gritted his teeth, finished off his second whiskey, and glared at his companion, barely managing to feign polite interest. “So then what did you do?”
For a seventeen-hundred-year-old demon, Leo looked alarmingly whipped. “I introduced her to the damn demon. It was that, or get kicked out of my own bed.”
At least he wasn’t the only powerful man around who’d been brought to his knees by a human woman. “You realize how ridiculous that sounds, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Leo dragged his fingers through his blond, disheveled hair and sighed. “Fuck. If you tell anyone, I’m going to have to kill you.”
Zack wished he had another drink. He wished he hadn’t run into Leofric. He wished someone would order a damned Tequila Sunrise already, so he could go upstairs and forget the fact that he was still sleeping alone.
Instead, he sighed. “So, your sweet little girlfriend had a vision about some demon’s eternal damnation, and this was alarming to her? You’ve got her snowed, Leo.”
“Normally I’d agree, but Ianthe’s different. She’s…” For a second, Zack thought he saw regret in Leo’s eyes, but it was gone too fast to tell. “Shit, she makes me look like the poster boy of evil. I’m talking soup kitchens and feeding the homeless and who knows what else. If there were a back door out of the demon gig, she’d have taken it two hundred years ago.”
Something about the look on Leo’s face made Zack arch an eyebrow. “You introduced your new flame to an old one? You’re either brave or stupid, man.”
Leo blinked. “What? Oh, fuck no. No, I wouldn’t have fucked Ianthe for money back when she was the dark Queen of the Night, and she won’t do anyone now that she’s all sweet and good.” That obnoxious, irrepressible grin returned, the cocky one that had been tinged with far too much satisfaction since Leo had met Caitlin. “Trust me. I tried. For like, four decades.”
And he wouldn’t have bothered if she’d just put out. “Charming. No means no, Leo.”
“Fuck you, man. I know what no means.” The cell phone on the table in front of him went off, the vibrations making it dance across the table. Leo snatched it up and flipped it open, then grinned. “Cait’s on her way.”
The knot of misery in Zack’s gut twisted tighter. Leo looked happy, and he felt like an ass for wanting to run like hell before Caitlin’s arrival. Buck up, Elliott. You’re an ass, and you deserve to have to watch them make googly eyes at each other.
He should have remembered that the man seated next to him could sense the darkest desires of those around him more easily than breathing. Leo’s green eyes looked almost sympathetic as he shifted and reached into his back pocket. “It’s getting bad, isn’t it?”
Self-denial made him grumpy. “Stay out of my head.”
Leo flipped a credit card onto the table. “Man, I’m not even in your damn head. Every demon within ten feet of you knows what you need. And that could get awkward when Cait shows up with Ianthe, considering her past.”
Zack turned his attention to the bar in the middle of the room. “You want me gone before they get here.”
“You want to be gone before they get here,” Leo countered. “Even I can tell that much. But hey, you could stick around and hit on the reformed demon. Back in the eighteenth century you would have been just her type.”
“No, thanks.” Even if a demon could offer the sort of submission he sought, it would be tied up in complicated power struggles and manipulation. He reached over and nudged Leo’s credit card across the table. “I can buy my own drinks, though. It’ll be worth it not to have to watch you be schmoopy with your girlfriend.”
Leo flashed him a grin. “Go on, Elliot. Order your damn drink. I’ll catch you next time you come through.”
“Yeah, sure.” Zack rose, determined to get the hell upstairs before Caitlin showed up with anyone who might want to hit on him.
Surprisingly, he wasn’t in the mood to play nice.




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Down and Dirty 2: Calling the Bluff by Moira Rogers

Down & Dirty: Calling the Bluff
by Moira Rogers

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-076-6
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal
Theme(s): Werewolves
Series: Down & Dirty
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1062

Blurb:

Hazel Young is a rare commodity in town: a young, single female whose first mating is nearly upon her. She's spent the last two years fending off suitors who grow more determined by the day -- after all, there's nothing flattering in the attention of werewolves more interested in what she is than who she is, especially not when she gave her heart away to Oliver Russell years ago. But Oliver seems to feel nothing for her but fond kindness, and the time has come to choose a mate before the wolf makes the choice for her.
When Oliver happens across Hazel being pressured by a local who wants to be her first, it awakens protective instincts he thought he'd set aside with the death of his wife five years ago. With Hazel in heat and no time to get her to safety, they wind up in a fishing shack on Lonely River, waiting for her mating fever to pass. The last thing he expects is to be tempted by her inexperienced attempts at seduction.

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.

Hazel closed her eyes, propped her chin on her hand and, for the fifth time that day, told herself it was time to be a good girl and fuck Noah Hampton.
Even without looking she could feel his gaze on her, a heavy weight fraught with anticipation. He’d brought another courting gift to the Full Moon Saloon this afternoon, the third in as many days. Hazel glanced down at the cookbook resting on the bar and admired its cheerful shiny cover. Finding books which predated the War was a challenge, but she’d mentioned to him the first time she met him that she loved books and he’d obviously jumped through hoops to find a present she would value.
Few people out on the plains could afford the luxuries of pre-War books and gadgets. Hazel had vague memories of the cities back East, where rich people lived in the gigantic skyscrapers that had once housed businesses with technology she could only begin to imagine. People traded in odd relics of the past, but the price had always been too steep for her mother’s shallow pockets.
Noah Hampton was wealthy. He was strong and handsome enough, and he was new to town, which at least made him interesting. He knew when to talk and when to smile, and he’d made it clear from the moment he’d set foot across the threshold of Lottie’s saloon that he was more than willing to guide Hazel through her first mating cycle.
Unlike most of the local boys, who’d spent the last months trying to grab her ass or sneak a hand under her skirt as a prelude to seduction, Noah had been comfortingly blunt about the subject. He wanted to fuck her, to lock them both in a room and satisfy every dirty urge she had or would have over the several days it took for the mating fever to run its course, and when it was over they could decide what to do from there.
He was perfect. He was fucking perfect.
Except for the fact that she couldn’t summon the slightest interest in touching him. Damn you, Oliver Russell.
“If you stare at it long enough, will it spontaneously combust?” Lottie’s polite, cultured voice sounded particularly jovial, and she swept around the end of the bar in a billow of skirts and pale blonde hair. “It’s a very nice book, and it would be a shame.”
Hazel didn’t look up. “Is he still staring at me?”
“He is.” Lottie cleared her throat. “I can tell him to go, or coax him upstairs for a visit with one of the ladies.”
“No.” She brushed her fingers along the smooth cover and sighed. “Because the only person he needs to be fucking is me, and I’d rather not do it here.” The minute the words were out she regretted them. For the madam of the town’s most profitable whorehouse, Lottie had some fairly strict ideas about appropriate language.
“Hazel Young.” One eyebrow arched delicately as Lottie fixed her with a patient look. “There’s no need to be crude about it. Your situation is entirely normal and natural.”
“Is it?” If her situation were normal, she wouldn’t have ended up with so many people meddling in her life. Everyone else spoke of their first mating as if it had been a casual thing. Unimportant, unremarkable. No one had mentioned craving one man so desperately even her wolf would have nothing to do with anyone else.
“Mmm.” Lottie leaned over the bar, and her drawl became more noticeable as she spoke. “A word of warning, though. Any man that smooth?” She nodded toward Noah. “Is rarely a good idea.”
Which was the entire point. “At least a man that smooth might know what he’s doing. Unlike the boys you keep throwing at me.”
“‘Nice’ doesn’t always equal ‘inexperienced’.” Lottie’s gaze skipped past Hazel to the door, and she swore under her breath and straightened.
Hazel didn’t need Lottie’s sudden descent into foul language to know who had stepped into the saloon. It should have been impossible to pick out one scent amidst the jumble of smells that always permeated the saloon, but it wasn’t just any scent. Her skin tingled and arousal crept through her, persistent and demanding as she gave in and lifted her gaze to the door.
Oliver Russell stopped just inside the room, his hat cradled in his hands. Hazel let her gaze linger for a moment on the strong line of his jaw and his rugged features, on his powerful shoulders and hard chest and the large hands that she could almost feel on her skin…
His gaze swept the room and landed on her, hesitating for just a moment. Then he walked to the bar and nodded his head. “Miss Lottie. Miss Hazel.”
“Good afternoon, Oliver. What can I do for you?”
Again, that slight hesitation which might have been Hazel’s imagination, only this time it was coupled with something that looked like dismay. “Whiskey, please.”
Hazel was breathing too fast, and the men in the saloon were starting to take notice. She clamped down on the rising heat inside her until it almost hurt, then turned to find the whiskey. Even with her back to Oliver, she could feel his presence, and her hands trembled as she poured a shot and tried not to listen to his voice as Lottie talked to him.
When she turned around with his glass, Lottie took it from her. “Why don’t you go take a break, sweetie?”
Hazel glanced at Oliver, who looked nervous and self-conscious, and the truth of his visit came to her in a rush. The tiny, feeble hope that maybe -- maybe -- he’d come to see her faded.
Oliver was here for the reason he was always here -- to visit the saloon’s only human girl, a sweet woman who accommodated Oliver’s sexual needs. Maybe it would have been easier if Hazel had been able to hate Melinda, but she was kind and thoughtful, and even her wolf saw the human woman as no competition.
Pain gave her sexual arousal a vicious edge, and she met Oliver’s gaze without flinching. “Should I go fetch Melinda for you? I’m sure she’s available.”
He returned her stare evenly. “I’d appreciate it if you could tell her I’m here, and that I’ll be up in a bit, if that suits her.”
So casual. So cold. She’d demanded his blunt acknowledgement and he’d given it to her. Tears stung her eyes as she shoved past Lottie, but she didn’t go to the curving staircase leading to the second floor and the well-appointed rooms where the ladies of the bar entertained.
Instead she went to the corner. To Noah.
He greeted her with a smile and a bow. “Miss Hazel. Can you join me for a drink?”
Everyone was watching. Hazel pushed him back into the chair and followed him. She settled on his lap and curled an arm around his neck before leaning close to his ear. “I don’t think I can wait any longer, Noah. I’m choosing you.”
His smile turned into a cocky, self-assured grin. “And you won’t regret a minute of it, Hazel,” he whispered and bit her earlobe. “Not a single minute.”

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Gingersnaps: Christmas Party by Moira Rogers

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Last Call: Virgin Daiquiri by Moira Rogers

Last Call: Virgin Daiquiri
by Moira Rogers

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-108-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Daemonum
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, The Dark Side
Series: Last Call
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1051

Blurb:

Caitlin Carlson, the only non-witch in the powerful Dumitrescu line, needs to lose her virginity, and fast. A family legend about a pure soul with prophetic visions has put her first in line for a good, old-fashioned sacrifice, and visiting Last Call seems like the perfect way to head off her one-way trip to the altar. Buy a drink, go upstairs, have sex. Simple.

Virgin Daiquiri: Looking for a first lover.

Being a demon isn't as easy as it used to be, especially with the dwindling number of corruptible souls in the 21st century. Luckily for Leofric, he's never been particularly concerned with corrupting enough innocents to earn a promotion off of the mortal plane. But when a virgin wanders into Last Call and stirs up competition among the younger demons, Leo finds himself tempted to rethink his stance on mixing a demon's business with a woman's pleasure.

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.

Caitlin Carlson swore when an overly enthusiastic dancer stepped off the floor and into her. Her vodka tonic splashed across the front of her blouse, plastering the thin fabric to her chest. “Terrific,” she mumbled. Oh, well. A see-through shirt might draw some attention when she ordered her next drink.
The plain font on the menu in her hand stared mockingly up at her. She could order from the special house menu, let everyone know what she wanted, but it didn’t guarantee anyone would be interested in taking her upstairs.
At least I’d get a free drink out of it, she thought grimly and climbed the steps leading to the central bar. She’d teased Ben once, telling him that a complimentary drink was a poor consolation prize if you’d come to the bar looking for a night of hot sex, but he’d just laughed. Probably because it almost never happens… please don’t happen now.
She waved to Bernie, the bartender, whose friendly smile melted into alarm as he caught sight of the menu in her hands. When she stepped up to the bar, he gave her a stern look. “You’d better be up here to chat, girl, because I know you didn’t wait until Ben was out of town to come into his bar and serve yourself up on a platter.”
Caitlin rolled her eyes and laid the menu on the bar. “Ben gets weird about it, but what’s the worst that could happen? We both know this place is warded to hell and back. It’s not like anyone’s going to hurt me.” She stopped talking when she realized she sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “Virgin daiquiri, please.”
“Caitlin, come on.” Bernie braced two large hands on the counter and leaned down until he was face to face with her. “Honey, this is not the place you go to lose your virginity unless you’re the kind of magical that could kill your partner. And you’re not.”
She leaned in, too. “I’m the prophesied daughter of the goddamned Dumitrescu family, Bernie. Whoever has sex with me first is going to piss off a whole line of dark witches. You think that couldn’t kill someone?”
“Ben’s going to be back in a week. Maybe less. And I thought you had another year before the big mystical planetary alignment or whatever.”
That had always been the theory, but a dream that hadn’t quite been a dream had told her differently. Even now her family was gathered somewhere, arguing over whether or not they should play it safe and wait out the year, or follow a more dangerous path that would leave her dead inside a month. Time was running out, and so were opportunities. She’d snuck past her family’s vigilant guardianship tonight with luck and her ability to see the future, but after tonight…
She met Bernie’s eyes. “You really want to argue with a psychic about how much time she’s got left?”
He hesitated just long enough for her to know she’d won. His gaze slid past her to the floor, and she imagined he was sizing up the men, wondering if any of them could be trusted with her. “Ben’s going to kill me,” he muttered as he reached up without looking and pulled down a clean glass. “He’s going to kick my ass up one side and down the other.”
“If he tries,” she said smoothly, “you send him to me, and I’ll remind him it could be worse. I could still qualify for black magic sacrifices.”
She pulled out a credit card and glanced around as he mixed the slushy drink. People were staring already; they always did when someone ordered from Bernie. She supposed they liked to speculate about what people wanted. What they needed.
If they might be able to give it to them.
Caitlin shivered and tugged at the hem of her skirt. It was too short, even for someone of her scant height, but she hadn’t wanted to look like a stereotypical virgin, even if she was one.
Damn Ben, anyway. If he hadn’t gone and found the love of his life, Caitlin could have eventually worked up the nerve to ask him to do the honors. But he had, and she couldn’t fault him for that. Only now she was stuck finding some stranger to… deflower her? Make her a woman?
She giggled and snorted, then took a deep breath. Three vodka tonics had perhaps been too many, but she’d needed them. She’d sip her daiquiri and wait until someone appropriate came along. She’d be choosy but not picky, and clear about the rules.
It would be fine.

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Down and Dirty: Wild Card by Moira Rogers

Title: Wild Card
Series: Down & Dirty

Genre/Line: Futuristic, Werewolves, BDSM

Author: Moira Rogers
Author URL: http://www.moirarogers.com
Release Date or Available Now: November 14th

Publisher: Changeling Press

Publisher URL: http://www.changelingpress.com/

BUY LINK: http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1013

Content Warning: Contains graphic sex which may offend some readers.

* * * *

Blurb:

As alpha of the Lonely River Pack, Jack Owens is responsible for keeping the peace between what’s left of the human population and the wolves who have taken over since the War. All wolves are his responsibility, even the ones who don’t necessarily recognize his authority, like Virginia Howard. Ginny’s been a thorn in Jack’s side since she took over her parents’ operation and established herself as one of the area’s premier ranchers. The fact that she’s everything he wants in a mate makes it hard to stay away from her… but any good hunter knows how to bide his time.
Ginny fights hard to maintain her independence from men, human and werewolf alike. When a group of angry wolves, determined to see her submit, threaten her operation, she’s forced to accept Jack’s assistance. But in saving her ranch, Ginny runs the risk of losing something far greater -- her heart.

Excerpt:

Ginny began to ache as Jack stared down at her, talking about orgasms and looking at her like she was a juicy plum he was about to bite into. “And I can’t move my hands?”
“No.” The corner of his mouth ticked up as his palm came to rest on the curve of her hip. “Though maybe I shouldn’t be trusting you to listen. I saw how well that went last night.”
“Last night? Your punishments weren’t very discouraging.” Her skin heated at the memories. “If anything, you were forcing me to behave badly.”
He shrugged and reached up to tease around her nipple with a barely-there touch. “What can I say? I love a woman who behaves badly.”
“I must be a dream, then,” she murmured, smiling as she trembled.
His fingers caught her nipple without warning, pinching it as his other hand dipped between her thighs to rub once against her clit.
Ginny cried out and shot halfway into a sitting position. After a few heartbeats, she shuddered and relaxed, dropping her hands back to the table above her head. “Sorry.”
“Mmm, sure you are.” He dropped a hand to the table above her head and pinned her hands down, his grin widening. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were just begging to get spanked again.”
“I am begging,” she whispered, twisting under him. The gentle ache sharpened until she almost hurt. “Jack…”
His fingers slipped over her clit again before sliding lower. He eased one inside and groaned, his eyes never leaving her face. “You’re so wet. Tell me what you want, Ginny. Say it.”
“I want you to fuck me with your fingers.” Her whole body tensed, and she fought the urge to free her hands and grab him. “I want you to watch me come.”
Jack groaned again, then leaned down and claimed her mouth. His tongue plunged past her lips, hot and every bit as demanding as the finger stroking inside her. Ginny forgot everything but the fire burning inside her, and the fact that the man above her could ease the ache, make her scream. She tried to raise her arms, but his grip on her wrists was unyielding.
He lifted his head and watched her face as he eased a second finger into her. “Wiggle all you want, darling. You’re not going anywhere.”
Her heels dug into the backs of his thighs, and she panted. “If you let me go, I could touch you.” God, she wanted to touch him.
“You want to get free?” His thumb swept up before she could answer, narrowing in on her clit as he worked her body with an intimate knowledge which should have taken months to learn. His fingers slicked in and out of her at the perfect angle for several moments, then froze. His smile turned arrogant. “No getting loose until you come, Ginny. And no coming until you beg.”

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Tequila Sunrise: Hurricane by Moira Rogers

Title: Hurricane
Series: Tequila Sunrise

Genre/Line: Werewolves, BDSM, Menage

Author: Moira Rogers
Author URL: http://www.moirarogers.com
Release Date or Available Now: October 24th

Publisher: Changeling Press

Publisher URL: http://www.changelingpress.com
BUY LINK: http://www.changlingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1010

Content Warning: Contains graphic sex which may offend some readers.

ADULT EXCERPT :
She was usually graceful, but not tonight. Tonight she was almost clumsy; her body trembled and it took her three tries to line their hips up. She hissed in a breath when she finally got it, sinking down onto his cock hard and fast. Tight, clenching heat surrounded him, and she rocked a little and whimpered when he inched that much deeper.
Kieran arched his neck, his head digging back into the pillows. The long, silky drape of her hair beckoned, so Kieran gathered a handful and tugged lightly. “I said slow, love.”
She moaned and rocked again, lifting up just a few inches before dropping to grind against him. “I need you, Kieran. I need you.”
“I know.” He focused on the curve of her hip under his hand and the heat of her body around his. He barely noticed when Zack rose and approached.
But Eve noticed. She stiffened with another low snarl and stopped moving. “What?”
Zack stopped a few feet from the bed and eyed her, bemused. “Got a problem, Eve?”
“I don’t want to fuck him while you laugh at me.”
Kieran froze as something stormy and wild gathered in Zack’s eyes. Then he blinked and it was gone. “I guess I’ve worn out my welcome, then.” He grabbed his jeans and shook his head. “Good luck with your thing.”
“Wait.” Kieran rose up until his chest pressed to Eve’s back. “You can’t go. There’s --” He bit off a curse. If Zack left, they’d be right back at square one. “There’s got to be something we can do.”
Zack just shook his head again. “Lady doesn’t want me here.”
Eve made a frustrated noise and turned her head until her face was tucked against his cheek. “It’s not funny,” she whispered. “I fight myself and I can’t control it and it’s not funny.”
Kieran could hear Zack grinding his teeth. “I wasn’t laughing at you. But I don’t know what you want me to do.”
Kieran stroked the side of her neck and murmured nonsense until her breathing evened. “Lie down, Eve.” It was a gamble. He didn’t want to upset her further, but he hadn’t yet gotten what he’d come for. “Do it, love.”
She seemed almost relieved as she lifted slowly away from him and relaxed back against the bed. “I don’t want you to go, Zack. I’m just feeling… a little stupid. And it’s making me mean. I’m sorry.”
The tense line of Zack’s shoulders relaxed. “It’s all right.” He cast a quizzical look at Kieran. “What do you have in mind?”
He smiled and nodded to the cabinet at Zack’s side. “Are there any restraints in that thing?”
Eve sucked in a breath next to him, her sudden excitement impossible to miss with her racing heartbeat echoing in his ears. Zack must have heard it, as well, because he grinned. “I like the way you think, Kieran.” He turned and opened the cabinet.
Kieran leaned down to kiss Eve as Zack rummaged through the cabinet. “Anything you’re not okay with?”
“I just want you.” Her fingers curled around the back of his head and she kissed him hard.
The bed dipped, and Kieran looked up to find Zack there with a set of fur-lined leather cuffs. “Here.”
Kieran took them and kissed Eve again as he pulled her wrists above her head and toward the decorative but functional iron loops extending from the headboard. He buckled the cuffs around her wrists, trapping her.
He watched as she tested the restraints, a soft tug at first and then a jerk. He knew the strength that existed in her deceptively slender arms, but the bed and cuffs had been designed to hold stronger creatures then werewolves. The iron loops rattled a little against the headboard but held fast, and Eve let out a soft moan and closed her eyes.
He beckoned Zack with a look. He nodded and dropped his pants again, but left his boxers on. He stretched out on the other side of Eve and caressed her arm and side. “You’re in charge, Kieran,” Zack murmured. “What now?”
Kieran returned his smile and curled a hand around Eve’s hip. “Now we make her forget about the dominance games.”


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Excerpt: Last Call- Hurricane by Moira Rogers

Last Call: Hurricane
by Moira Rogers

cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-052-0
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem
Series: Last Call
Length: Novella

Artist and witch Fiona Logan hasn't had an orgasm since a bitter ex cursed her five years ago. Whenever she gets aroused, bad things happen. Now, she's come to Last Call in hopes of gaining an audience with -- and help from -- its owner, a powerful wizard named Benito D'Cruze. If anyone can break the curse, it's him. And if he won't come downstairs to meet with her, she'll bump and grind until his bar caves in from the backlash. Hurricane: Contents under magical pressure. Experience required.
Ben doesn't get involved with patrons... not even the hot, sexually frustrated ones. But when a lush looking blonde threatens to wreck his bar with her curse and her need, he decides it's time to take matters -- and her -- into his own hands. After all, even if he can't break the curse, he can certainly ease her frustration. And what powerful wizard doesn't love a challenge?

Excerpt:

Last Call: HurricaneMoira RogersAll rights reserved.Copyright ©2008 Moira Rogers
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.
Fiona took one last look at the printed menu in her hand and grimaced at her friend. “I don’t need a drink. I need help.”
“Honey, this place is chock full of hot wizards.” Jenn snatched the menu out of Fiona’s hands and studied the back of it. “And this menu’s the key. We just have to decode it. Maybe they have a drink for ‘My castrated jackass of an ex cursed me to a life free of orgasms, contents under pressure.’ Like… oh shit, you can get in on a vampire/werewolf threesome? Hot.”
Leave it to Jenn to focus on the more salacious aspects of Last Call’s offerings. “I like my blood where it is, werewolves are notoriously possessive, and a supernatural hookup is not on the agenda. Remember what happened when I kissed that councilman at your gallery opening last fall?” Fiona shuddered at the memory. “That poor cater-waiter lost his eyebrows, and the sprinklers destroyed your mixed-media.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why you need a supernatural hookup. Maybe there’s someone in here powerful enough to survive the curse. Hell, maybe there’s someone who can break it.” Jenn clutched the menu in one hand and grabbed Fiona’s arm in the other. “Come on, let’s go ask the bartender.”
She knew who could break it. Someone who could lay wards so powerful they’d keep garden-variety humans off of a property without any question or concern. Someone who could maintain peace and order when vampires and witches were partying with demons and faeries.
She needed the owner of Last Call.
Fiona grabbed the menu from Jenn and scanned the back, then slammed the paper down on the bar. One way or another, the curse ended tonight.
The bartender walked over, his movements easy in spite of the churning energy in the club, one eyebrow raised and a grin on his dark, handsome face. “Can I help you ladies?”
Fiona took a deep breath. “I need to speak to Benito D’Cruze.”
“No, she doesn’t!” Jenn reclaimed the menu and held it up. “She needs… a hurricane.”
“A hurricane?” The bartender glanced at Jenn before bringing his gaze back to Fiona. “Hurricane’s for inexperienced witches and wizards. People who are liable to blow the place up without proper handling.” Unspoken was the implication that she didn’t look particularly inexperienced.
Fiona gritted her teeth. “Can I see Mr. D’Cruze or not?”
“Sorry, miss. The owner’s not available. You could call his office and arrange an appointment during business hours, though.”
“Okay.” She drew in another breath and nodded. “Then I’ll need that hurricane, please.”
One dark eyebrow curved up into a perfect arch. “You sure?”
Jenn, who had already indulged in a number of the bar’s more mundane drinks, leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “She’s got a big bad curse on her. Things blow up when she gets turned on. She may not be an inexperienced witch, but she still needs proper handling.”
“Uh-huh.” Fiona grinned. She could just make out with the ones who thought they could handle the curse. Sooner or later, doddering old Benny D’Cruze would make his way down from his lavish office to inspect the damage. “Hope the property insurance is paid up. Rum makes me horny.”

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Excerpt: Last Call--Kamikaze by Moira Rogers

Title: Kamikaze
Series: Last Call

Genre/Line: Paranormal/Werewolves

Author: Moira Rogers
Author URL: http://www.moirarogers.com
Release Date : August 15th

Publisher: Changeling Press

Publisher URL: http://www.changelingpress.com
BUY LINK: http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=966

Content Warning: Contains graphic sex which may offend some readers.

* * * *
PG-13 EXCERPT (PG-13...ish)

Zoe Bennett needed to fuck someone.
It was a rather shocking reality, one that alarmed her as she slipped through Last Call’s crowded dance floor. Being alarmed by it didn’t make it easier to ignore, however. Goosebumps rose on her skin every time a stranger brushed against her. If that stranger happened to be a fellow werewolf -- a male werewolf -- her nipples tightened and she had to fight off a shudder of pure need.
She needed it tonight. Her fingers clenched around the menu she’d picked up from next to the door, creasing it as she finally broke free of the writhing mass of bodies clogging the dance floor. She needed it, and nothing -- not shyness, not her natural inhibitions, nothing -- could stop that need. Not now.
Three wide steps from the floor led up to the low platform that held the main attraction of Last Call: a long, slightly curved bar with fifteen stools and a wide corridor behind it. Three more bars crowded against the other walls of the large room, but this was the bar. The bar where the drinks were incidental.
The seats never stayed filled for long. Now they were empty except for the left-most stool, which held a young man with pale skin and sharp looking fangs that he flashed whenever he laughed. His companion, a duskily tanned young woman, leaned closer and ran her tongue along his ear as Zoe watched.
Zoe shivered and set her foot on the lowest step. Nervousness rose, but the need burning in her pushed her up to the second one.
By the third step she could feel the curious stares on her back. She ignored them and closed the distance between herself and the smooth mahogany of the bar. Her hands shook a little as she slapped the menu down and sought the bartender’s eyes. “I -- I have an order.”
His skin was the same color as the bar, and his smooth, shaved head gleamed under the low light. A small, high-tech looking headset curved over his head, something that looked like it might serve as a microphone as well. He smiled at her and nodded to the crumpled menu in front of her. “On or off the menu?”
“On.” She smoothed the menu out and turned it over, her gaze sliding down the list of specials. Last Call house drinks, each with its own meaning. Its own message. And there was only one message she had for the men of the bar tonight. Take me if you can. “Kamikaze, please.”
He nodded and reached up to tap the side of the headset he wore. His strong, deep voice cut in over the music, filling the bar and attracting the attention of most of its patrons. “Last call for the lady in black. Kamikaze, coming up.” He released the button and winked at her as the music resumed its previous volume.
Zoe slid onto the stool at the far right of the bar and struggled not to look at the dance floor as the bartender made a show of mixing her drink, a process so impressive it bordered on performance art. It made a good distraction, one which gave her an excuse not to turn around and watch the crowd behind her. She could feel the male werewolves approaching, and their sudden, intense interest made her skin tingle.
Tradition declared that no one approach her before she had her drink. Zoe ignored the appraising stares and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her menu again. The back was a neat list, divided into sections. Vampire, werewolf, witch, fae… Plain black type delineated the various clientele of Last Call, along with the “specials” peculiar to each kind. She slid her finger down the page, past the bold Werewolf heading until she found kamikaze.Werewolf in heat, looking for a temporary mate.

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