New Reviews for Changeling Press 10/17/11

New Reviews for Changeling Press 10/17/11

Congratulations to Brannan Black, Saloni Quinby, Stephanie Burke, Ayla Ruse, Kira Stone, Dakota Cassidy, Marteeka Karland and Sierra Dafoe!

BLIND DEVOTION: A WOLFMAN TALE by Brannan Black
4 Hearts from Love Romances & More

I loved seeing the characters that first brought me to this world and kept me coming back. Now I have a whole new set of them to enjoy as well.

http://loveromancesandmore.blogspot.com/2011/10/blind-devotion-wolfman-tale-by-brannan.html

BOBBI AND THE BEAST by Saloni Quinby
4 Nymphs from Literary Nymphs

A heartwarming short story. intriguing and exceptionally enjoyable.

http://literarynymphsreviewsonly.blogspot.com/2011/10/bobbi-and-beast.html

HOW NOT TO DATE A FAE by Stephanie Burke
Reviewed by Joyfully Reviewed

Fast paced, sexy, and emotionally intense at times. "How Not to Date a Fae" satisfies every expectation.

http://www.joyfullyreviewed.com/new-reviews/how-not-to-date-a-fae-by-stephanie-burke

MALATHIX SOUL: BROKEN by Ayla Ruse
4.5 Blue Ribbons from Romance Junkies

A tight, sexy read. If you want an action-packed, sexy short story, don't miss BROKEN. You won't be disappointed.

http://romancejunkiesreviews.com/artman/publish/paranormal/Broken_Malathix_Souls.shtml

MOLTEN by Kira Stone
Reviewed by Joyfully Reviewed

Molten is absolutely entertaining and so original you will have to read it to believe it!

http://www.joyfullyreviewed.com/new-reviews/molten-by-kira-stone

WOLF (Collection) by Sierra Dafoe, Dakota Cassidy and Marteeka Karland
4 Cherries from Whipped Cream Reviews

The stories flowed well and worked together. There were moments of tears, laughter and sighs. All in all an excellent read.

http://whippedcream2.blogspot.com/2011/10/wolf-collection-by-kira-stone-sierra.html

The Dark Side by Angela Knight and Elayne S Venton

Dark Side

by Angela Knight, Elayne S. Venton, Willa Okati, Elisa Adams and Sierra DafoeCover art: Angela Knight

ISBN: 978-1-60521-687-4

Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Dark Fantasy

Length: Collection

Page Count: 312

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1695

Blurb:
Within each of us lies a dark secret -- forbidden passions so strong they frighten us with their intensity. Between these pages, our heroes struggle with their own irresistible longings. Dark lust blurs the line between love and sex -- their only hope, to embrace the unthinkable hungers and follow their mates into an abyss of dark and dangerous lust. And love.
Welcome to The Dark Side
The Dark One by Angela Knight
Matia of Ruza is one of the legendary Battlemaids -- a woman warrior who has taken an oath of celibacy in service of the Maid of Light. Kaska intends to make Matia the centerpiece in a sizzling erotic ritual in honor of his god.
Chain of Thorns by Willa Okati
Riven finds himself trapped and enslaved when Earth is destroyed in a fiery cataclysm. Where is the line between fantasy and reality -- slavery and love?
Waiting for You by Elayne S. Venton
Tybirius West is a mercenary -- and the one man Major Reeva Medusa can't get out of her mind. Trouble is, if Ty were on her side, he wouldn't have taken her captive, blindfolded, stripped and bound her. This time she may not be able to free the sex slaves -- she may become one!
BloodWolf by Sierra Dafoe
Baudouin Delacor wanders the earth, solitary, friendless, and hopeless. Centuries ago an ancient evil turned him into a beast for which there had never before been a name -- not the loup garou, the WereWolf, but the loup de sang. The BloodWolf. Delacor has only one hope left: that by destroying the succubus, he can free himself of its curse.
Night Creatures by Elisa Adams
Nightmares plague Juliana McGovern -- twisted, erotic dreams where monsters urge her to join them in their terrifying rituals. It's only a matter of time before they pull her into their world. And Max, the one man she thinks she can trust, has a few deadly secrets of his own.
Excerpt:
The Dark Side (Collection)
Excerpt from The Dark One
Angela Knight
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Angela Knight

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.

Kaska of Artane slowed his stallion to an easy amble. Prince Britar's fortress lay a full day away, and he'd ridden poor Warbringer hard this past month. He knew the Prince awaited the intelligence he'd gathered as a spy in neighboring Trovan but laming his horse would serve no purpose.
Particularly with war on the horizon.
Besides, the last time Kaska had come this way, he'd had to battle the local brigands. Two fell to his blade before the rest fled, but that left five. And they might be in the mood for revenge. I don't care to ride headlong into an ambush.
"Whoreson bastards!" A woman's roar of fury brought Kaska's head up. He drew Warbringer to a prancing halt.
Swords clashed, interspaced with male taunts and laughter. The laughter had a distinctly ugly note. The woman swore again, an edge of grim desperation in her voice.
The thieves had found a new victim.
Kaska set his heels to Warbringer's flanks and thundered up the road toward the sound. Rounding the bend, he saw five men fighting a lone female traveler they'd managed to unhorse. He recognized the dented, rusted armor and unshaven faces; it was indeed the same band of thieves.
But their victim was no common woman. Her armor and sword marked her as a follower of the Maid of Light -- a female warrior. She was tall for a woman, with a lithe, muscular build and pretty breasts barely contained by her intricately embossed breastplate. Long black hair swirled around her face as she spun and hacked at her tormentors with a slim sword designed for a woman's hand.
One of the brigands already lay dead at her feet, but four others remained, odds too great even for one of the legendary Battlemaids.
A grin of sheer, savage joy spread across Kaska's face. With a howl, he drew the blade sheathed across his back and kicked Warbringer into a thundering charge.
The nearest of the brigands whirled too late. Kaska took his head with a single stroke.
Another of the men jumped at him, hacking for his thigh with an axe, but Kaska spun Warbringer aside and thrust his blade into the thief's chest. The man tumbled off the lethal point, gurgling out his life.
Meanwhile, the third brigand fell to the Battlemaid's sword. His head tumbled from his shoulders.
The fourth man looked from Kaska to the thieves' would-be victim, calculated the odds, and took to his heels.
Kaska snatched a dagger from his thigh sheath and hurled it at the coward with an expert flip of his wrist. The man went down, the blade buried to the hilt between his shoulder blades.
Scarcely breathing hard, Kaska turned to the maid. "Are you well?"
"Well enough." She studied him, her dark eyes level. There was a sharp and elegant beauty to her face, with its broad, high cheekbones and square little chin. Her lush mouth could inspire a monk to carnal fantasies.
"My thanks, warrior," she said at last in a low, husky voice, pushing the long black hair out of her face. "There were too many of them for me to best alone." She considered him, appraising the width of his chest and the strength of his sword arm. Female appreciation lit her gaze, mixed with a warrior's caution.
She had reason for that caution, for he meant to challenge her himself. He worshiped the Dark One, and his god relished nothing as much as the moans of a defeated Battlemaid.
Imagining the tight grip of her virgin ass, Kaska felt his cock swell behind his loincloth.
Give her time to rest, and then...
Of course, the maid might well kill him instead, but looking at her long legs and full, sweet breasts, Kaska thought it a chance well worth taking.
But as he opened his mouth to warn her of his intent, all color left the Battlemaid's face. Her eyes rolled up. Kaska threw himself from Warbringer's back as she collapsed in a heap.
Two long strides carried him to the maid's side. Dropping to one knee on the dusty road, Kaska began an anxious examination. He found no wounds on the front of her body, so he rolled her onto her back.
The maid groaned and lifted her head. "Wha --?"
"Seems one of your cur attackers landed a blow after all," he told her grimly. "There's a stab wound in your back just under your backplate, over your left hip."
"Aye," she said, letting her head fall. "One of them had a dagger."
"'Tis not deep, but it bleeds still," Kaska said. "I can treat it, if you permit."
"Aye," the maid said, breathing now in shallow pants. "My thanks."
Kaska nodded and rose to retrieve his pack of battlefield medicines from Warbringer. Well, he thought as he walked to his horse, I won't be challenging her any time soon. Not with that wound.
Later, perhaps. When he'd examined her, he'd noticed she had a truly delicious ass.
He wanted it.
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1695

WOLF by Dakota Cassidy, Marteeka Karland, Kira Stone, and Sierra Dafoe

Wolf (Collection)

by Dakota Cassidy and Marteeka Karland and Kira Stone and Sierra DafoeCover art: Sahara Kelly

ISBN: 978-1-60521-546-4

Genre(s): Paranormal

Theme(s): Werewolves, Magic

Length: Collection

Page Count: 248

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1654

Blurb
Werewolves are tenacious creatures, hunting their prey -- and their lovers -- with deadly accuracy. Rarely do they miss their mark. Give that wolf a human form and he's almost invincible. Except when it comes to matters of the heart. Their lovers aren't the type to submit easily. It will take all their skills -- both human and lupine -- to get what they want. But then, they never settle for anything less...
Werelock by Dakota Cassidy
Addison Ross agrees to go on an All Hallows Eve pumpkin picking expedition to appease her niece and nephew. Hoo boy does she ever pick a winner. Beneath her pumpkin lies a talisman that brings the delish Caleb Marsden into her life. Caleb Marsden, the werelock...
Wild Ones by Kira Stone
Bitten by a ferocious wolf, Billy's need for solitude leads him to carve out a territory in the Canadian wilderness. Luc's small pack is made up of weres with the ability to control the elements. They need Billy to complete the circle... but first the Wild Ones will have to catch him...
The Witching Hour by Marteeka Karland
Hazel really wants to be the witch her Grandma always said she could be. Unfortunately, though her spells always work, they never quite work the way they're supposed to. Drake, the hunky werewolf next door, has an appetite for a certain witch... and it's all for her own good. After all, who ever heard of a virgin witch?
Wolf Bound by Sierra Dafoe
When Jenna's lover strands her on a ski slope in the Canadian Rockies, an enigmatic lone wolf rescues her -- only to transform into a naked, stunningly sexy man! Now Jenna is faced with a bitter dilemma: if she stays, she'll be putting his life at risk. If she leaves, it's his heart she'll be destroying...
This title is available in print. The novella Werelock was also included in Dakota Cassidy's collection Werecats and Werelocks.
Excerpt
Wolf (Collection)
Excerpt from Wolf Bound by Sierra Dafoe
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Sierra Dafoe

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
A low crackling sound roused her, and she opened her eyes, suddenly aware of warmth and light. A small fire burned nearby, sending feeble gleams dancing over the cave walls. Surprised, Jenna lifted her head, looked down at the wolf, and froze.
The wolf was gone. Where he had lain, with her arms wrapped around him, was a man.
Jenna jerked away in shock, sending leaves scattering as she sprang to her feet. He didn't move. He lay on his side, facing away from her, apparently asleep -- and completely naked.
Slowly, she squatted next to him. Shaggy, silver-black hair hid his features, and Jenna stared at him. Where had he come from? How? When? Then another question occurred to her and she spun, scanning the cave. Except for the two of them, it was empty.
"Wolf?" Jenna scrambled to the entrance. The clouds had closed in, completely blocking the moon's light, and she could make out nothing in the blackness. "Wolf? Wolf!" She whirled back to the inexplicable man. If he'd driven Wolf out, wounded, maybe dying...
She shook his shoulder roughly. "Where's the wolf?" she demanded. "Hey! Where's the wolf?"
He rolled onto his back, and she realized he was shivering, his broad shoulders shaking with cold or illness. Something about the way he kept his arm clamped tight to his muscular side gave her the impression he'd been injured.
"Hey!" She shook him again, hard. His shaggy hair slid back from his face, and Jenna shrank back. One high, ivory cheekbone was scored with red, inflamed claw marks.
No. No, that's not possible. That's not...
Then he opened his eyes -- yellow eyes. Predator's eyes. Wolf's eyes.
Jenna screamed.
His pale face clenched at her reaction. He rolled away, curling up onto his side, his broad shoulders hunched like an unhappy child's. Jenna turned, wanting to bolt from the cave -- but where could she go? She didn't even have her coat, for God's sake. It was still under the man...
Under the wolf.
No!
The man shifted, rolling to his feet, and Jenna scrambled back, bracing herself against the wall of the cave. But he merely moved to the fire, crouched down by it, and added another chunk of wood to the flames.
As he studied the fire, she studied him -- the long, silver-black hair, the rippling torso, the broad shoulders with their hard planes of muscle... Everything about him was lean, corded, powerful. She found her gaze dwelling on the firm curves of his ass, and quickly averted her eyes.
He hunkered on his haunches easily, as if he'd never even seen a chair. His arm was still clenched against his side -- but when he shifted, reaching for her parka, she gasped at the sight of the gash that curved down his abdomen.
It wasn't possible. It wasn't...
Jenna moved slightly, and the man glanced over at her, pulling her coat closer around his shaking shoulders. His face was pale, angular, the well-molded jaw leading up to broad, prominent cheekbones. His lashes, so thick and black they looked almost kohled, curved against his ivory skin. Behind his thick, shaggy hair, his yellow eyes gleamed, feral and intent.
There was such force to his features, such a wildness...
"Wolf?" she whispered. His eyes burned into hers.
No, it wasn't possible. But there was no other explanation.
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1654

All Wrapped Up Volume 2 (Collection) by Sierra Dafoe, Lacey Savage, Willa Okati

All Wrapped Up, Vol. 2

by Willa Okati and Lacey Savage and Sierra Dafoe Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-59596-821-0

Genre(s): Paranormal, BDSM

Theme(s): Ménage, Vampires, Werewolves, Shapeshifters, Gay and Lesbian

Series: All Wrapped Up Multi-Author

Length: Collection

Page Count: 237

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1623

Blurb:

Naked Exposure by Lacey Savage
Scoop of a lifetime -- Hollywood bachelor Greg Radigan in all his naked glory, participating in some very explicit BDSM play. The moment the picture hits the Internet, it goes viral. Naturally, whoever took the picture has to pay. When Greg and Deidre finally come face-to-face, he's ready to exact revenge. And nothing short of Deidre's complete submission will satisfy him...
Absolute Power by Sierra Dafoe
Trapped at the mercy of six overpoweringly handsome vampires, can Mia find the courage to let down her guard and discover the ecstasy of submitting herself completely to their sexual demands?
Chain of Three by Willa Okati
Two alien Marines, a human BDSM Master, and a shapeshifting Empress with a mind of her own -- a recipe for trouble. Dane and Julian, ex-war heroes now in the Empress' service, hate each other. Problem. Julian wants Dane almost as much as he hates him. The Empress thinks Master Anubis can tame the two. It's a three-way battle for dominance, and the Empress never fights fair...
Excerpt:
All Wrapped Up 2 (Collection)
Excerpt from Chain of Three Willa Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Willa Okati

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

"So, you're pretending to be a human again today, are you?"
Dane grunted in response. In his opinion, a stupid question didn't deserve any kind of answer. Anyone with two, three, four or more eyes in their head or what they called a head ought to know better. Of course he'd shifted into human shape. He wasn't stupid.
The Empress hadn't exactly ordered Her subjects to assume the images of the humans She adored and fell passionately in love with. However, anyone who wasn't too dumb to come in out of the rain knew they'd better wear the right "uniform" unless they had an itch to annoy Her.
You really, really didn't want to annoy the Supreme Commander of a thousand-plus starships and a million trained warriors.
Besides, he'd decided to lounge by the pond in the garden of his new quarters that morning and tentacles had a nasty tendency to develop vicious sunburn. "Getting a tan" the earthfolk they'd rescued from their doomed planet called this practice. They'd said it was relaxing and made them look more attractive to those they wanted to mate with.
No, those they wanted to fuck.
If Dane was going to play human, then he'd damn well get the details right. Mating and fucking were completely different concepts. One of the new traditions most of his countrymen and women liked best when it came to playing human was the idea of fucking without having to tangle themselves up in mating.
"Fuck." An interesting word you could use in almost any sentence.
Dane paused for a second to appreciate the amazing range of human obscenities, otherwise called "swearing," "cursing," or "cussin'." They worked great when a guy didn't really know what else to say.
Speaking of which, Dane decided getting a suntan was probably a piss-poor waste of time. He couldn't figure out why anyone would enjoy damaging the pigmentation of their skin by sitting in the sun all day, but as the earthfolk also said, what the hell? He didn't have anything better to do. Not since he'd been "honorably" discharged from the military, sent back to their home planet for recuperation, and then...
Dane shuddered.
"Aww. He shivered. Izza baby boy cold?" Julian taunted in American English.
Raising the middle finger of his human-shaped hand, Dane pointed it where he figured Julian would be standing. Another handy earthfolk trick, cussing with hand signals.
Julian hooted. "Up yours too!" He made the suggestion in cheerful good humor. Probably purely for the sake of annoying Dane. He never took offense at anything Dane did. He treated every barb and sting like some big game. Prick. "You're cranky today, old man. What flew up your ass?"
Dane grunted again as his only answer, deciding if that wasn't good enough for Julian he could go screw himself.
Mmm. He really, really loved human profanity. So rich, depending on culture, and so satisfying. He and Julian both studied the underground lists of new phrases together to figure out what they meant, bitching at each other over who got to read first if they didn't both have a copy. The time when Julian insisted "son of a bitch" meant the same thing as "son of a motherless goat" had resulted in a fight of amazing violence and duration.
In the end, the Empress Herself gave them a tongue-lashing of Her own and sent them to their rooms to stand with their noses in the corner until they learned to behave like men, not children.
Julian's fault, in Dane's opinion. Dumbass.
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1623

Pool Boys Too

Read an excerpt

Pool Boys Too by Sierra DafoeCover art: Bryan Keller ISBN: 978-1-59596-501-1 Genre(s): Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary), Hot Flashes Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1445

Blurb:
Forty-one and recently divorced, Sherry has no idea where -- or if -- she'll find the courage to rebuild her life. She finds it in Belize, in the company of Rutger, a stunningly handsome pool boy who reminds her in every delectable way imaginable that life is an adventure to be savored to the last drop!
Excerpt:
Pool Boys Too
Sierra Dafoe
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Sierra Dafoe

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
I wish to God I knew what I'm doing here. I really do. Not that it isn't a nice place -- it is. In fact, it's gorgeous. Palm trees rustle over my head, and the air is thick with the scent of flowers. There's a mass of them just behind my chaise, some sort of tropical bushes with waxy, deep green leaves and wildly pink flowers that look a little bit like honeysuckle. I've got no idea what they are, but they smell incredible.
My knees are bent up before me, and my chaise is in this sort of outdoor alcove, surrounded on three sides by verdant growth. Shadows chase across the white plastic, and three feet past the end of the chaise clear sunlight beats down, making the stretch of cement beyond blaze like sand. Beyond that, a seemingly Olympic-sized pool stretches in turquoise splendor, its surface sparkling with refracted light.
Maybe it's a hallucination. Maybe I never made it to the divorce hearing at all. Maybe I suffered a lethal accident on the way and woke up in heaven. I could go for that theory, except I never heard of heaven having in-ground pools before -- or pool boys.
All I know is that for the past ten months, sitting still has been absolute torture. It's almost impossible for me to stay in one place anymore. When I'm at work, I want to be home. When I'm home (which is no longer home but a one-bedroom efficiency apartment; no way was I staying in that ugly, empty, faux suburban Tudor after Dwight left), I'm there maybe all of twenty minutes before this frantic little voice starts screaming at me to move, damn it, just move -- with the consequence that, after ten months of this, I am possibly in the best shape I've been in since my early twenties. It's a small consolation, but looking down at my reasonably flat belly in the blue-and-white bikini I'm inexplicably wearing, I decide things could be worse. Among other things, I could still be married. So, drawing a deep breath, I decide to try something different and make myself sit still.
The pool boys definitely help. I can see them from under the brim of my floppy straw hat. Jamar is just surfacing in the pool, coming up from beneath the water in a rush of smooth, powerful limbs. His beaded dreadlocks swing as he tosses his head, spraying water, and his skin glows in the sunlight like wet, polished mahogany. Girls flock around him, giggling, drawing him into a game of water volleyball with a big, striped, inflatable ball, and he indulges them with the same easy smile with which he introduced himself to me earlier, informing me I'm in Belize.
Under the spell of his rich, musical accent, all I could think was Well, at least I'm someplace new.
Paolo, who's Portuguese, brings me a drink, something cool and frothy with a wedge of pineapple. I sip it, tasting coconut, and tilt my head back to smile up at him in thanks. He's almost too pretty, with those thick black lashes and that mass of black curls falling down to brush his sun-burnished shoulders. He smiles back, a warm, lazy laughter lighting those Mediterranean eyes. I watch the muscles bunching in his calves as he walks away, the flex of that hard, full butt beneath his white shorts, and a heat as liquid and rich as the air around me floods my crotch.
Quickly, I look away.
Rutger, who's built like something out of a teenage girl's wet dream -- all hard, gleaming muscle and neatly-cropped blond hair -- sits in the lifeguard's chair at the far end of the pool. The heat inside me cranks up another notch, but it feels safer with him, somehow -- he looks like a god up there, stern and untouchable, those keen ice-blue eyes flicking over the girls splashing and squealing in the pool.
I'm tempted to throw myself in and drown myself, just to have him rescue me. It's a safe enough fantasy to indulge, I suppose, so I do, closing my eyes and picturing those massive arms lifting me out of the water, laying me down...
My whole body shimmers at the idea, and I yank my eyes open again quickly. I can't remember the last time I shimmered. Or glowed. Or giggled, for that matter, as three of the girls are doing, clustered together on the near side of the pool, glancing over at him. Pulling themselves out, their lithe bodies dripping, they egg each other over to his chair, simpering and preening as they gabble up at him. For a moment, I almost hate them.
Not because they're young, or pretty -- which they are; I'll give them that much -- but because I can't for the life of me remember how to do that. How to just walk up to a man and talk to him. Of course, they don't really know yet, either. They're just learning, their efforts transparent and awkward -- and annoying, I gather. Rutger's face, as he answers whatever inane questions they've come up with, is impassive. His gaze flicks to me, his expression slightly harassed.
Yep. This has to be a hallucination. Real men just aren't that gorgeous.
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1445

Life's A Beach by Sierra Dafoe

 

Read an excerpt

Life's a Beach by Sierra Dafoe cover art by Angela Knight ISBN: 978-1-60521-468-9 Genre(s): Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary) Theme(s): Ménage, Bisexual and More Series: Myrtle Beach Memoirs Length: Novella

Life's a Beach

by Sierra Dafoe

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1428

Blurb:
Life's a bitch, so far as beautiful biochemist Lily McKinney is concerned. You work hard, and then you die. And even if you do find a man to fall in love with, he breaks your heart. Now she's determined to discover the biochemical causes of that sticky, confusing emotion called love -- so she can make sure she never has to feel it again.
But when she's shipped off unwillingly to Myrtle Beach for three weeks' vacation, Lily learns she knows even less about life -- and love -- than she thought, as the carnal attentions of two handsome strangers teach her that not even the world's greatest scientists can unravel the mysteries of the human heart.
Excerpt:
Life's a Beach
Sierra Dafoe
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2010 Sierra Dafoe

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.

"Damn it, Hal! Where are my test tubes? What the hell did you do with my test tubes?"
Hal Broder, head of the post-graduate research lab at MIT, sighed as Lily McKinney entered his office with all the tact and decorum of a tornado. "Hi, Lily," he said tiredly. "Don't bother to knock or anything."
She was bristling. God, he hated it when she bristled. At five foot nine, that was a lot of woman to bristle.
Luckily, if she had any womanly charms (a subject hotly debated by her students), they were reduced to nonexistence by her white lab coat. Which was a good thing -- she was distracting enough as it was. Not that he'd ever tried going out with her or anything; well, not beyond a few tentative feelers when she'd first joined the faculty, feelers which Lily McKinney had seemed incapable of perceiving.
At first he'd thought she was being purposefully dense to spare his pride. It had taken the Mike Murphy incident for him to realize otherwise -- an incident for which they were all, faculty and students alike, still paying the consequences.
Hal sighed again. "Lily, I didn't do anything with your test tubes. They're right in the culture cabinet where you left them."
"No, they're --"
"Did you try looking?"
Lily's head jerked up, her eyes blazing behind the horn-rimmed glasses she always wore. The heavy frames did nothing to hide the creamy smoothness of her skin, any more than the tight bun she sported could hide the luster of her chestnut hair.
There were a few tendrils straggling loose from that bun today, he noticed -- not a good sign. If she was frantic enough to neglect her rigidly regimented appearance, it meant Lily was very close to snapping.
Too close for comfort. Standing, Hal modulated his voice to a soothing murmur. "They've probably gotten shoved behind some grad student's thesis work. Come on. Let's go check."
Placing a hand on the small of her back, he steered her out into the brightly lit lab. The muscles beneath Lily's lab coat were taut as steel cables.
Going to the cabinet, he opened the door, revealing the neat ranks of test tubes lined up in their plastic holders, each clearly labeled Prof. McKinney Trial 4, Batch 11. "There. See? All right and tight, Lily."
She slumped, her shoulders sagging. "God, Hal. I'm sorry. I feel like an ass."
Hal wondered briefly if he could get away with putting his arm around her again, and decided he didn't dare. "Don't worry about it. We all get frazzled sometimes."
Lily ran a hand along the side of her head, sweeping the errant tendrils back into their restraining bun. Hal watched them go with a pang of regret. It was probably a good thing Lily had absolutely no clue how stunning she was -- she'd truly be a menace if she did.
And Lily McKinney was a handful enough as it was, thank you.
He contented himself with closing the cabinet door again, gently. "Look, Lily, I know you're still upset about Mike --"
"I am not upset," she interrupted, completely oblivious as to how the leaping of her jaw muscles belied her statement.
For the third time in as many minutes, Hal sighed. "All right, distracted. Is that a better word?"
Lily acceded to its usage with a small, sharp nod, her gaze fixed stubbornly on some point over his left shoulder. "What's your point, Hal?"
"My point is that maybe you could use some time off. Take a vacation. Unwind a little. Relax."
Her gaze jerked back to his face in horrified disbelief. "Time off? Now? I can't, Hal -- I'm about to make a breakthrough. I can feel it."
Well, if you can, it's about the only thing you do feel. Wisely, he kept that thought to himself. "Look, nine months out of the year we're flat out, working sixty-hour weeks --"
"Yeah, life's a bitch, ain't it, Hal?" Her lovely lips curved in a disdainful sneer.
"For God's sake, Lily, it's July! Half the faculty is on the Cape -- and the other half is swilling wine somewhere in Europe. You haven't taken a vacation in two years."
Lily muttered something under her breath. Hal rather thought it had been Maybe there's a reason for that.
Yeah, he knew the reason. It even had a name. And, luckily, a job at a different campus, thanks to Hal's quick intervention. For which Mike should probably be genuflecting in eternal gratitude, he thought wryly. However unpleasant being transferred might have been, Hal was certain it was infinitely preferable to being murdered.
Not that the bastard wouldn't have deserved it. Hal had been half-tempted to kill him himself.
If only there was some way to get Lily over this funk...
Hal stopped short as an idea occurred to him. It was a little risky -- but only a little. At worst it might offend her. At best, it might snap her out of the rut she'd been in.
Either way, it'll certainly shake up her routine. Squelching a grin, he said, "Look, I can't order you to take time off -- but I can bar you from the lab. And unless you agree to three weeks of R and R, I'll do exactly that."
The look she shot him this time was one of stark rebellion.
"I mean it, Lily. You need a break, and you're going to take one. I even have the perfect place for you." Taking her arm, he steered her back into his office. Shuffling through his Rolodex, he found the card. "Here."
She looked at it briefly, and flicked it back across the desk. "South Carolina? Yeah, I don't think so."
But Hal was already reaching for the phone. "I have some friends there. They're out of town for the month. Nice little place on the beach, a pool... Yeah, Alec?" He turned his attention to the phone as Alec answered. In his mind's eye, he pictured the towering young botanist he'd met two years ago at a conference, and the grin he'd been trying to suppress escaped his control.
At fifty-three, Hal was smart enough to know he couldn't handle a firebrand like Lily. But he was hardly the only man in the world now, was he?
"Alec, listen, I've got a favor to ask." Belatedly, he realized Lily was still standing there, shooting daggers at him from behind her horn-rimmed glasses. He waved a hand at her, shooing her toward the door. "Go on, Lily. Go down for a few weeks. Relax. Get a tan."

Copyright 2010 Changeling Press, LLC 
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1428

Devarian Collection by Sierra Dafoe

Devarian (Collection)
by Sierra Dafoe
Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-249-4
Genre(s): Futuristic, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Ménage
Length: Collection





http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1266







Blurb:

In a galaxy where all men are slaves, one woman must fight an empire to free the men she loves...
Under the laws of the Nine-Star League, all men are slaves. But when Captain Soleyla Devarian, a captain of the elite League Guardians, falls in love with her new pleasure-slave, Kantou, she begins to question the very League she is sworn to uphold.

On Antoros, a newly discovered world in the far reaches of the galaxy, Soleyla finds herself equally drawn to Rolen, the fiery, passionate leader of the Antorean rebels the Guardians have been ordered to crush.

Now Soleyla's trapped between two alluring men and their conflicting desires -- and there's only one way to fulfill them both -- by overthrowing the very League itself!

In a deadly face-off between mother and daughter, Soleyla finally learns the shocking fate of Danel, her first pleasure-slave -- and discovers that Rachel Devarian holds Kantou's fate in her cold grasp as well. Can Soleyla find a way to save her beloved Kantou, or must she sacrifice the men she loves to save the galaxy from her mother's tyranny?

This collection contains the previously released novellas Devarian Exile, Devarian Uprising, Devarian Revolution, Devarian Pleasure-Slave, and Devarian Renegades.

Excerpt:

Captain Soleyla Devarian strode through the market, her blue Guardian's cloak whipping behind her, feeling rage blaze through every sinew of her body. How dare her mother do this to her? She was so furious she spared barely a glance at the tents she passed, or even the slaves displayed outside them.
If she was going to be forced to spend six months on some barren mudball halfway across the galaxy, Soleyla swore to herself, she was damned if she was going to spend it alone.
The first time she'd seen the market on Porto V, Soleyla had been sixteen. For the daughters of senators, the purchase of one's first pleasure-slave was as much a rite of passage as the sword trial itself. The trial, a culmination of three years' military training in the Guardian schools, was both a final exam and placement test. When Soleyla Devarian had disarmed the three V'ranyii her swordmistress sent against her in record time, slaying two in the process and earning herself a Guardian commission as a second lieutenant, her mother had rewarded her in the customary manner by ordering the portals readied for the journey to Porto.
From the biting cold of an Argulian winter, Soleyla remembered, she had stepped from the portal onto soft white sand. The feathery fronds of unfamiliar trees had rustled in a light, warm breeze. Wide-eyed, she'd followed her mother from the debarkation point down the slope toward the market.
The colored awnings and silken tents had looked flimsy to Soleyla, raised as she was on Argulus where the fierce winter winds necessitated massive stone buildings to withstand their blast. The market had spread out before her, a riot of color under a gentle yellow sun. But it wasn't the tents, or even the azure sea sparkling off in the distance, that caught Soleyla's eye.
It was the men.
They'd posed outside the sellers' tents, living advertisements of their owners' wares. Their firm, taut bodies reignited the strange, unfamiliar restlessness that had begun plaguing her over the past few months, swelling the pulsing ache between her legs. Soleyla had studied them, following the line of their taut, tapered waists to where their manhood was displayed to her devouring gaze, nestled among curls of black or brown or copper hair.
One slave, a sleek, light-haired fellow with eyes the color of the distant sea, had fondled himself before her eyes, his cock hardening under his caressing fingers as he shot Soleyla a beckoning, seductive glance.
Her mouth had gone dry as she stared at his hands trailing up and down his thickening shaft. She'd watched him rub the darkening tip between his deft fingers, stroking them lightly across the velvety skin. Her footsteps lagged, and she'd found herself wanting to command him to rub himself faster, wanting to watch the muscles of his forearm clench and flex as he tightened his grip, watch his head drop back and his eyes fall shut as he stroked his warm, pulsing penis harder and harder...
Rachel Devarian had looked down at her flushed, staring daughter with an amused smile. "Patience, Soleyla," she'd murmured. "Do you think the merchants put their best wares on display in the streets?"
Obediently, Soleyla had followed her red-cloaked mother, but she hadn't been able to resist glancing back at the light-haired man, catching an expression of disappointment on his face as the tall, regal woman, clearly marked by her crimson cloak with its titanium clasp as a Senator of the Nine-Star League, moved away.
It hadn't been likely that the man -- a mere pleasure-slave -- had known her mother's name, much less her preeminence as First Senator of the League. But that hardly mattered, Soleyla had realized, watching the way his eyes followed Rachel. A forlorn hope shone in them, and she could almost read his thoughts. To be plucked from the pleasure-market, taken into the household of a senator! It would be the height of ambition for slaves such as these -- men selected in childhood for their attractiveness and trained in the arts of pleasing a woman.
It had never occurred to her that men had dreams, too -- no matter how small and inconsequential those dreams might seem to her, Soleyla, daughter of Senator Rachel Devarian, Regent of Argulus IV.
She hadn't been entirely ignorant, of course, of the sensual uses to which a man could be put, even at sixteen. She'd walked in on her mother and one or more of the six pleasure-slaves her rank entitled her to, any number of times. But she herself had had no more than the briefest of conversations with the ordinary slaves who tended the fields, the manor, the livestock -- and none at all with the six her mother kept for pleasure.
It had been a shock to realize they might have dreams.
Her mother had led her to Merkun's establishment -- an interlocking series of blue silken tents, the fabric fluttering lightly in the soft, sultry breeze. Wave after wave of half understood sensation had flowed through her as Merkun paraded one man after another through the small blue chamber. Soleyla had watched Rachel inspect the men, her mother's long, capable fingers feeling their muscles, caressing their buttocks, curving down to cup their full, heavy testes. Soleyla had longed to be the one touching them, caressing all that warm, waiting flesh, but she'd sat quietly, awaiting her mother's choice.
Finally her mother had decided on Danel. Dear, sweet Danel, who'd eased her gently into the knowledge of her own womanhood, who'd always been there, eager to please, whenever she'd wanted him. His softness, his sweetness, his gentle pliancy to her moods and needs had made him, Soleyla had to admit, an ideal selection for her first pleasure-slave.
Which made her mother's betrayal bitter indeed.
That first trip to Porto had been six years ago. Now, at twenty-two, Soleyla was far more versant with the emotions that tumbled through her at the sight of those hard, chiseled bodies so delectably displayed before her. The hunger she'd ruthlessly suppressed over the three months since her mother's betrayal roared through her as they preened, their poses and gestures and soft seductive looks all for her, this time. But desire reminded her fiercely of Danel and so fueled her rage, keeping her firmly on her course to Merkun's blue tent.
Her mother had been right about many things, including the preeminence of Merkun's establishment. That thought, too, carried its own weight of fury.
Merkun smiled and bowed as she entered his voluminous, multi-roomed tent. He had been castrated when granted his freedom by the regent of Porto V in token of fifteen years of outstanding service. Now the fat, aging man taught the extraordinary skills which had won him his freedom to the men he groomed for sale -- one of the many reasons Merkun's pleasure-slaves commanded such outrageous prices.
As he ushered her into the same small room she'd sat in six years before, Soleyla was surprised by a sharp stab of grief. Here, she'd sat here, on this very chair, the first time she'd seen Danel. His soft hazel eyes had studied her quietly as her mother inspected him, tilted his neck, felt his buttocks and genitals. Soleyla shut her own eyes tightly against the memory of his warm, gentle gaze.
"Captain? Are you all right, my lady?"
She opened her eyes again. "Yes. Some wine, I think, Merkun."
He gestured to one of the two young men standing near the curtain that gave the room privacy. They were hardly more than boys, both of them, lean-limbed and beautiful. Merkun's future stock, being assiduously groomed for their duties. The youth came forward, comfortable in his nudity, and knelt gracefully beside her to pour the wine. Merkun took a seat across from her and smiled approvingly as the youth held the cup up to her, his eyes cast demurely downward. "Would my lady care for anything else?"
She shook her head and waved him away. Merkun leaned forward, waiting -- it was not his place to begin business, but hers.
It had been three months. Whatever grief she still felt, it was time for a new slave. Soleyla cleared her throat harshly.
"I'm being sent to Antoros. You've heard, of course."
Merkun inclined his head. Of course he had heard. Everyone had. It was tantamount to exile, being posted to that newly discovered world in the far reaches of the galaxy. And for a regent to send her own daughter to such a place… It took Soleyla a moment to push back her bitterness enough to continue.
"I'll need a new slave. I'll be damned if I'm going to that obscure rock-heap without one."
"Of course, Guardian. Do you have any special requirements?"
Soleyla nodded. "He'll need to be more than simply a pleasure-slave. The situation requires it. I can't have a pretty thing with no common sense. He's got to be tough, and willing to do manual labor, if needed." She stared at Merkun challengingly. Slaves, of course, could be commanded to do anything, but pleasure-slaves held an exalted status.
The old man nodded. "I understand. It's an outpost. Of course you can't take a pampered lapdog."
"I'd prefer him reasonably bright, as well as biddable. I don't need to worry about his primary skills, seeing as he comes from your hands."
Merkun smiled acknowledgement of the praise. "I believe I have a few who might suit, Guardian."





http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1266

Shifter Sisters Collection by Sierra Dafoe

Shifter Sisters (Collection)
by Sierra Dafoe

cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-248-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, Humor & Satire, Collections
Theme(s): Ménage, Vampires, Werewolves, Shapeshifters, BBW
Length: Collection

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1218

Blurb:

One's a canine. One's a cat. And one's a vampire who hates the sight of blood. Together, they're the Shifter Sisters, a hard-rocking band of misfits who stand by each other when the chips are down -- no matter how much the fur might fly the rest of the time!

Luna, the band's drummer and a werewolf by birth, has a talent for hooking up with men who only let her down -- until a sexy Irish songwriter convinces Lu she's finally found The One. But how are you supposed to land the man of your dreams when you really do turn into a bitch at "that time of the month"? And can you ever find love while hiding half of who you are?

Tori hasn't exactly had a great time with men, either -- in fact, the last time she let a man steal her heart, she went to his bed a virgin and woke up a vampire. Now, though, she's being pursued by a wealthy, mysterious stranger, and Tori finally has to admit she's tempted. But what is up with Drake Foster? One minute, he's charming and witty; the next, he's arrogant, demanding, and even sexier than before. Is he just one more supernatural bastard out to fuck with her life -- or has Tori, all unwittingly, found two new chances at love?

Furious that Tori got the man she wanted, Persia is determined to find a beau who can outshine even Drake Foster. Which won't be easy; he'll have to be handsome, suave, sexy, romantic, powerful -- and rich. In the meantime, there's young, luscious Billy Gruff, a perfect consolation for her wounded pride. But when Billy takes her home to meet his brothers, Persia finds herself with an abundance of mouthwatering choices... enough choices to cool even this keyboard-playing kitten's wanderlust!

This collection contains the previously released novellas Sex and the Single Werewolf, Once Bitten, Twice Shy, and Stray Cat Strut.

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 stage lights beat down. Everything beyond them was a haze. Lu’s sticks blurred on the drums as she drove the beat behind Tori’s bass line. She lived for this, the rhythm pounding in her blood, her body totally immersed in the needs of the music, her mind disengaged, floating, silent…
Man, she loved it when they did Melissa Etheridge with Tori’s strong contralto belting out the lyrics and Persia filling in riffs on the keyboard. The audience stomped, whistled, and burst into applause as Tori brought the song to a close.
“Thank you! Thank you, everyone!”
Lu’s leather wristbands kept her hands pretty dry, but the sweat was rolling into her eyes, stinging. She shook her head sharply, sending beads of sweat flying, then paused to push her shaggy brown hair back from her face -- and saw Persia sidle out from behind the keyboard, sliding the strap of her bubblegum-pink Stratocaster over her head.
Oh, Christ. Here we go again.
Sure enough, the all too familiar rockabilly riff sang out through the smoky nightclub. Lu scowled at Tori who rolled her eyes resignedly before picking up the bass line. Sighing her exasperation, Lu picked up her sticks as Persia moved to the center mike and launched, for the gazillionth time, into the Stray Cats’ signature song.
“I don’t bother chasing mice around…”
Persia’s breathy, Marilyn-esque purr invariably got on Lu’s last nerve. That shit was tired three decades ago -- but damned if the guys in the crowd didn’t still lap it up, wolf-whistling and cheering as Persia strutted and preened, her curvy little body jiggling in all the right places.
Those same men falling all over the platinum-blonde sex kitten never seemed to notice her, Luna thought. Well, the hell with them, anyway. Not every guy in the world was intimidated by her height, or her bulging drummer’s biceps. Some guys even liked them.
Rick, for example.
Lu could feel herself grinning like an idiot, but she didn’t care. While one part of her mind kept the beat moving behind Persia’s baby-doll croon, the rest was busy picturing Rick’s naked body, with his weightlifter’s arms that made hers look downright scrawny, his broad, ripped torso and thick, insistent cock.
Oh, yeah. That man could fuck like a steam train. And if she was lucky…
Tori’s warning glance brought her back to the present, and Lu realized abruptly she was lagging behind on the beat. Turning her attention back to her kit, Lu dropped to a simple two-click while Persia pinched out a half-assed guitar solo.
Jesus! Why couldn’t she just stick to the keyboards, for Christ’s sake? Not that the crowd seemed to care, Lu thought sourly. She’d seen Persia wrap men around her little finger so tight it was a wonder they didn’t squeak. And there she was, at it again, rolling her shoulders and fluttering her lashes, letting go of the guitar long enough to trail a hand down her plump little thigh as she sang the last chorus.
Finally.
Lu brought her sticks down with a crash, then flipped them to feather out a hiss on the high hat as the male portion of the audience, at least, roared its approval. Persia winked and threw them a kiss as Tori stepped back up to the microphone.
“Thank you! We’re the Shifter Sisters, everybody! Thank you and good night!”
The stage lights went out. Lu reached for her sports bottle and squirted water down the back of her neck as Tori started unplugging cords and Persia, characteristically, wandered down off the stage to be swallowed immediately by a throng of fans.
“There she goes again.” Luna nodded toward the crowd.
“God damn it!” The raven-haired bass player looked up in exasperation. “Persia!”
Persia glanced back, waved airily, and disappeared toward the bar. Tori scowled after her, her hands propped on her slender hips. “Well, she better come back for her keyboard. I am not lugging that damn thing out to the van for her again.”
“Yeah,” Lu snorted, “you always say that.” Ignoring Tori’s glare, she stood, stretched, and wiped the sweat from her neck before starting to break down her kit.
By the time she had her drums and cymbals packed away in their cases, the house lights were on and Persia had returned with a trio of burly, grinning college boys she’d recruited to haul her equipment for her. They carried everything out to the dock and loaded the keyboard and mike stands into the van as Persia flounced, managing to look incapable of carrying so much as a microphone. Disgusted, Lu muscled her drums into the van by herself while the boys hovered around Persia like bees around honeysuckle.
More fools they if they think she’ll even give them the time of day.
Lu grinned. Persia was like one of those hair-loss commercials -- always promising way more than she ever delivered. But, just like the faux products the commercials advertised, the men kept buying, and buying…
What the hell was it about that damn chubby blonde, anyway? Not that she’d ever want to be like Persia! Yeech. The very thought made her hackles stand up. But still…
Lu sighed. It’d be nice to have a guy falling all over her like that.
Tori shoved her Fender’s case behind the seat, looked over at Persia with a grimace, and turned back to Lu. “You coming?”
“No, I, uh… I think I’ll walk home.”
Tori raised an eyebrow, then glanced out at the moonlight pouring down just beyond the loading dock. “You sure? It’s kind of late.”
Lu shrugged. “It’s not that late. Besides, I’ll strangle her if I come home now.”
“Be my guest,” Tori muttered, slamming the back doors of the van shut. “Persia!”
Persia neatly sidestepped her eager entourage as Tori slid behind the wheel of the van and ducked into the passenger’s seat. She waved gaily to the boys as the van pulled out. “Goodnight, sweeties!”
They waved back, grinning -- too dumb, in Lu’s opinion, to even resent being used. Jesus!
Disgusted, she turned on her heel and walked away.
« Return to Shifter Sisters (Collection)

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1218

Dragon's Heir Collection by Sierra Dafoe

Dragon's Heir (Collection)
by Sierra Dafoe

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-236-4
Genre(s): Dark Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Collections
Theme(s): Ménage, Bisexual and More, Shapeshifters, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Length: Collection

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1148

Blurb:

Djarera. The dragon planet. A world of passion and politics where the Southerlins, hereditary rulers of the dragon kingdom, struggle to maintain peace among the hot-blooded clans...
For decades, the two most powerful dragon clans have been at each other's throats over one very important question: who will get to marry the Dragon Queen's daughter? Determined to end their feuding, Melgara sends the two young princes to Earth where her daughter has grown up in hiding, ignorant of who she is.
But when two sexy, shapeshifting dragons start vying for her affections, Lara Southerlin finds herself in a wholly unexpected predicament. On the one hand there's Darrek Hausther, dangerous and dominant and darkly handsome. On the other, there's the red-headed Rand Aurorea, strong and sweet-tempered and willing to defend her to the death. The one who wins Lara's heart will be heir to the throne -- while the other will be banished forever.
Or will he? With the appearance of the charismatic rebel Zendar, life becomes even more complicated. And when Melgara herself goes unexpectedly into khef, the dragon mating frenzy, a new contender for the throne arises, threatening the survival of all four clans.
Publisher’s note: This collection contains six previously release novellas -- The Dragon's Daughter, Dragon's Heir, Dragon's Desire, Dravidian, The Dragon Prince, and Double Dragon. Files may exceed 1MB in some formats.


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.

Twenty-odd years of wrangling, and it all came down to the same question -- who would get to marry her daughter?
Sighing, Melgara sat back and rubbed at her temples. Below, at the foot of the dais, the lords Hausther and Aurorea glared up at her, while their sons glared only at each other.
"Allow the challenge, your Highness!" Darmon Hausther demanded, his black eyes blazing. He was lean, hawk-faced, with a high, arrogant forehead and one striking streak of silver in his jet-black hair. Behind him, his son Darrek was coiled like a cat, seeming ready to spring into battle the instant Melgara so much as nodded.
Typical.
The northern Hausther clan was eternally belligerent, the first, always, to leap to arms, and the last to accept an accord. Well, Darmon Hausther would accept one today, by the Winds. Him and that darkly handsome offspring of his -- whether they liked it or not.
On the other side, Thrand Aurorea stood with arms crossed over his huge barrel chest, his son Rand towering beside him like a mountain. Thick, orange-red hair cascaded over the youth's broad shoulders -- the very sign and mark of the Aurorean clan. Where Darrek was lean and fast, Rand was built like a young bull; stolid, massive, and enduring. Looking at him, one would never suspect the lively intellect that lurked beneath that fiery head of hair.
A battle between the two young scions would be more than deadly; it could well be disastrous.
The four clans of her realm were held together by only two things -- the balance of power between them, and the queen's law. Her law. Let these two hotbloods at each other's throats, and within weeks the entire realm would be wracked by war. Gerdain in the west would side with Hausther in the north, and the southlands would ally inevitably with Thrand.
At times she felt it was like trying to control the Winds themselves. And yet, if she didn't, they would rip the very fabric of their world to shreds. The constant sparring between the two clans had been bad enough, as they'd each tried to gain an advantage in their bid for her daughter's hand. She didn't dare allow it to come to open warfare.
Knowing this day would inevitably come, Melgara Southerlin had watched, and waited, and planned. "No." Her tone was final.
Even Thrand looked surprised. "But, your Highness…"
"I said no, Thrand."
"Then choose, your Highness!" Darmon snapped. "Choose a consort for that daughter who is so precious no one may even see her!"
Melgara let just the tiniest trickle of smoke escape her nostrils and Darmon Hausther stepped back quickly, knowing he had gone too far.
"Or let her choose." The words were spoken softly, and Melgara looked up. Yes, young Rand. She was not surprised, though Darrek's head jerked in shock as if such an idea was almost unthinkable.
That one, she chuckled sourly, has a lot to learn.
"She shall." Immediately, at her words, much of the tension seemed to ease from the room. Melgara held up a hand. "Be warned however. The one she does not choose shall be banished forever from the four corners of my realm." Rand's blue eyes went wide at this pronouncement, while Darrek's grew darker, till they glinted like obsidian amid the sharp planes and angles of his face. Melgara noted their reactions from the corner of her eye even as she kept her attention on their fathers. "Do you want the throne so badly now, my lords?"
"Rand, no." Thrand stepped forward. "I cannot allow this."
Rand looked down at his father with a gentleness Melgara observed closely. "If you command, Lord, I will of course obey. But it would grieve me greatly to not be given my chance. And I think," he added, almost offhandedly, "that the lady deserves more of a choice than Darrek."
At that, Thrand gave an approving bark of laughter, while both Darmon and Darrek tensed in fury. Then Thrand pulled Rand close into a hug that cracked the younger man's spine.
What passed between Darrek and his father was silent, no more than an exchange of glances. When Darmon nodded, Darrek drew himself up and met Melgara's gaze haughtily. "Bring her forth then, and let her choose."
Insolent whelp! Melgara stared at him, raising one regal eyebrow, until finally Darrek flushed and dropped his gaze.
Yet it had been the fire and ferocity of the Hausther clan which had saved them all in the Zendarian wars. And someday they might well need that ferocity again. Melgara kept her tone mild as she replied, "She's not here."
"What?" Both the older lords started forward in consternation.
Melgara glared at them. "Darmon Hausther. Thrand Aurorea. For over twenty years the two of you have been at each other's throats. Should I have let my daughter grow up surrounded by your petty brawling? Should I have let her become jaded and cynical from being used as a pawn in your power games? Will you dare tell me that you would not have done so?"
Abashed, the two older men stepped back, Thrand's shaggy head drooping. She eyed them coldly. "One way or another, my lords, your feud ends here."
Dismissing them from her mind, she turned to their sons. "You are both resolved?" The youths nodded. "So be it."
She clapped her hands and immediately an enormous wind sprang up, howling through the confines of the long, vaulted hall. It wrapped itself around the two young men and threw open the massive doors at the end of the hall with a bang. Outside, the world seemed to tumble away from the high perch of Wind Castle, spreading out far below into a tapestry of green, gold and blue. In the distance, the peaks of lesser mountains glinted in the sunlight.
Under the wind's rough hand, Rand's hair tangled into thick, fiery curls, while Darrek's streamed back, long and smooth and black as pitch. They both leaned into the wind like hounds eager to the scent.
Melgara raised her voice over the wind's keening. "It will carry you to the land where Elara has been hidden all these years -- a land that, I warn you, will seem very strange to you. You are forbidden to offer each other any violence," she continued. Both of them glowered rebelliously, and she eyed them sternly. "Do not doubt that I will know. And if you do…" She left the threat hanging. "You may, however, help each other if you choose."
From the rolling of their eyes, it was clear the two lordlings found that possibility unlikely. Privately, Melgara sighed. "You shall each have an equal chance to woo and win my daughter. But first --" She smiled evilly, allowing herself to enjoy this moment. How she had waited and planned for this day! "First, you will have to find her."
She clapped her hands again, and the wind redoubled, whipping through the vast audience hall with a hungry ferocity. Under its buffeting, the two young lords seemed to shred, their outlines blurring, stretching, spreading until, with a last muscular shudder, two dragons, one deep-chested and red as flame, the other lean, black, and wickedly taloned, unfurled their wings and sprang from the castle into the rushing wind.
Oh, my daughter, Melgara prayed as they rose, flitting through the cool, clean air, all my hopes rest on you. May you find joy enough now to make up for all your years of exile.
The hall seemed preternaturally quiet after the fury of the wind. Below her, Darmon Hausther shifted, already impatient. "What now, your Highness?"
"Now?" She settled back, enjoying his discomfiture, and smiled coldly. "Now, my Lord Hausther, we wait."

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1148

Wolf Queen by Sierra Dafoe

The Wolf Queen
by Sierra Dafoe
Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-080-3
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure
Theme(s): Ménage, Werewolves
Series: Call of the Wild
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1070

Blurb:

In the world of the Shumani, there is only one female per pack. She is their umma Shumani, their queen. But with the privilege of being protected by the handsome wolf-shifters who love her comes the responsibility to keep the pack intact -- and when Sarah Hartwell encounters Kar, the dark, savage son of the renegade Hunt, it’s a responsibility she’s not sure she can live up to.
The way he watches her as if he wants to eat her alive sends tingles down her spine. At the same time it frightens her, all the more so because she’s never seen him assume human form. But Sarah is determined to find a way to bring Kar into the loving circle shared by herself, Larak and Kam…

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.

They were coming up the slope toward him, their laughter strange and muffled in the cold, still air. Although he could hear them, Kar’s vision was obscured by fat, heavy snowflakes falling from the iron-gray clouds, and he could see little but the stony slope directly beneath the ledge.
The narrow track that ran alongside the creek was still empty and the creek itself, chuckling and roaring as it tumbled down from the heights, was the only thing which seemed to move in all that vastness. But soon -- all too soon for the tension roiling in his belly -- Kar saw flickers of motion among the trees below, and caught snatches of comments passed back and forth.
This’d be easier on four legs, you know.
“Well, I haven’t got four legs, have I?”
So that means Kam and I have to suffer too?
The ground was already white with snow. Kar heard one of the two Shumani slipping in it, a deep grunt of exasperation, and again the pealing laughter of the woman.
The human woman.
Sarah.
He’d only seen her the one time, when Hunt had led him to the clearing down by the lake to attack her. Why his father wanted her killed hadn’t been a question Kar had concerned himself with -- the moment he’d seen his brother lying dead at Larak’s feet, everything else had ceased to matter. But the woman had confused him, her scent ripe and heavy in his nostrils even as he’d sought to tear her throat out. She’d fought him, holding him at bay until Larak had come to her rescue.
Rak, Larak’s father, had been killed by Hunt who had seized control of the Shumani. That much, at least, Kar had known -- but what he hadn’t known was that his own brother, Kren, had helped Hunt kill Larak’s den-brother, Dal. The gentle gray wolf had been Kar’s only friend, and in his rage over Dal’s death Kar had stood aside as Larak had battled Hunt, finally throwing the massive black wolf from the very ledge where Kar now lay, forty feet above the forest.
Not for the first time, Kar eyed the empty air below him, considering the plunge. It would be painful, but it would also be quick. And what, truly, remained for him here? He wasn’t one of the pack, not really -- he was the son of an interloper, gotten on a simple wolf bitch Kar could remember only as a cringing shadow who’d nursed him, flinching every time Hunt had come near. He’d always known that, but it hadn’t been until the night Larak had beaten Hunt that he’d discovered how different from him they truly were.
They were Shumani, able to take the shape of humans, while he… he didn’t know what he was.
Late autumn color still blazed in the leaves, peeking from beneath the damp, clinging snow. The lake itself, five miles distant, was no more than a sullen gray flatness beneath the lowering clouds. The snow was tapering off now, fading to an occasional flake here and there, and Kar watched it, trying to get a handle on his growing nervousness and sense of dislocation.
He’d never known the others could change shape. It was like seeing a tree turn into a turtle, or watching a cornered hare sprout wings and suddenly fly away. It made him even more of an outsider than he’d been before -- and turned the pack he’d known all his life into something so foreign he could hardly grasp it.
They came into view at last, scrambling up the last steep stretch of the path to emerge, puffing and panting, onto the broad granite ledge looking east toward the lake. Larak dropped the sack he was carrying and straightened, his broad chest rising and falling as he inhaled deeply, catching his breath.
His hair -- as gold and gleaming as his amber eyes -- tumbled halfway down his back, and Larak pushed it back absently as he gazed out over the rolling vista. Behind him, the woman helped Kam, still limping from the wounds inflicted by a wolf trap, up onto the ledge. Kam, too, was in human form, strong and clean-limbed with a fall of silken hair as black as Kar’s own fur.
Tension knotted tight in Kar’s belly at the sight of them, a wave of tangled emotions hitting him like a slap -- and beneath it, something that felt disturbingly like envy. But the woman bundled in her strange, bulky coverings seemed even more foreign than they, as different a creature from the two naked men as Kar himself.
Unlike him, though, she was completely at ease with the two Shumani. Her movements were smooth and self-assured, her smile warm as she laughed at Kam’s complaints about her assistance. “I don’t care, Kam. If I’d let you go and you fell, I’d just have had to climb back down to get you. The only thing hurt is your pride, so quit bitching.”
Grinning, she turned toward Larak -- and then checked abruptly, her smile fading into uneasiness at the sight of Kar.
Black and silent, Kar held himself motionless, his eyes narrowed to slits as they studied each other.
It’s all right, Sarah. Kar’s not going to make any trouble. Larak took a step toward her, sliding a reassuring arm around her waist -- but even as he did he gave Kar a hard, warning glance. Are you?

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1070

Gingersnaps: Cupid by Sierra Dafoe

Gingersnaps: Cupid
by Sierra Dafoe

cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-112-1
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Christmas, Seasonal Themes
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1039

Blurb:

Cold and heartless, thoughtless boy

Who’s never felt that which you destroy…

Cursed by a witch over a practical joke, Cupid is doomed to centuries of life as a reindeer, unable to be freed until he falls in love. But how likely is that to ever happen, when all anyone sees when they look at him is a reindeer?
For Mercy Devers, all anyone sees when they look at her is the scar marring half her face, left by the fire which claimed her parents' life. Ashamed of her disfigurement, she lives as a recluse, only creeping out at night to wander the town where she grew up.
Until one Christmas Eve when she spies an ice sculpture in the town square. An ice sculpture of a reindeer so beautiful it takes her breath away…

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 street was as silent as she’d hoped. Not even the markings of tires marred the smooth whiteness of the roadway, two inches deep in new-fallen snow. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the rumble and beep-beep-beep of the snowplow, but the sound was comfortably far off, increasing rather than shattering her sense of solitude.
Then she shivered, finally feeling the cold. But as she started back up Main Street, her gaze was drawn to the town square where line after line of tiny, twinkling lights had been strung between the snow-crusted oaks. White and gold and blue and green, they glimmered like fairy lamps, reflecting off the gleaming, otherworldly shapes set here and there beneath the trees.
Ice sculptures. Dimly, she remembered reading something about a contest in the local paper. Drawn almost against her will, she crossed the empty street, stepped off the sidewalk -- and gasped in wonder at the beauty before her.
Frozen mermaids frolicked on the fluted curves of a clam shell. Behind them, a castle reared spires as delicate as glass toward the sky. A whale, its back dusted with the still-falling snow, hung seemingly weightless as a bird on its slender pedestal, while ice swans floated on a surface like a pool of polished glass.
Her face glowing with unconscious delight, Mercy moved among them, transfixed by their unearthly beauty.
Then she froze, her mouth falling open in a small, soundless “Oh!” as she caught sight of the life-sized reindeer, standing apart from the others, tucked away into the shadows between two snow-covered firs.
He was perfect. Absolutely perfect. From the long, sturdy legs to the muscular flanks to the nostrils flaring as if on the verge of drawing breath, he was so beautiful, so real that the mere sight of him made her heart clench with wonder. And yet he looked so solitary standing there by himself, his head bowed, his graceful neck drooping, the translucent silver antlers seeming to weigh it down like grief.
He looked like the epitome of loneliness -- a loneliness the sculptor had somehow captured, as if encasing a living soul within the smooth, shining ice. And here he would stand, day after day, night after night, frozen forever in unbreakable solitude…
Her fingers, red with cold, slid along the glassy ice. She’d expected it to be smooth but, she realized, even the indentations of his fur had been chiseled with meticulous perfection. Somehow that unexpected roughness made everything worse -- it made him too real, too lifelike. A tear slid down her cheek and, unable to help herself, she leaned her head against the strong, downcast curve of his neck.
She could almost convince herself that the rough ice beneath her cheek really was fur, that the reindeer leaned into her slightly, his warm weight returning her embrace the only way he could, that the neck against which she leaned shifted, the massive head coming up to rest against her shoulder, one sorrowful brown eye gazing deep into her own…
Mercy stumbled backward, falling flat on her butt as the reindeer stepped forward, his antlers lifting toward the sky. Then, with a quiver like a dog shaking off water, the reindeer was gone. In his place was a man, so perfectly formed that the scream welling up in her throat tangled up on itself, coming out as no more than a gurgling gasp.
Jesus, he was beautiful! Naked, motionless, he stood in the snow as graceful as a statue. Powerful thighs rose to lean, smooth hips. Mercy stared, gaping, at the sight of his sex -- she’d never seen a naked man in the flesh before. Somehow she hadn’t expected it to be so… so… big. Wasn’t it only supposed to be that big when erect?

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1039

Call of the Wild by Sierra Dafoe

Call of the Wild
by Sierra Dafoecover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-079-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure
Theme(s): Ménage, Werewolves
Series: Call of the Wild
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1004

Blurb:

Welcome to Wolf Creek Cove…
In an isolated area of northern Manitoba lives an unusual breed of wolf. They are the Shumani, the wolves who walk as men. But the longer they go without contact with humans, the more they regress into wild wolves.
Larak and his den-brother Kam watched helplessly as the Shumani dwelling in the hills above Wolf Creek were taken over by Hunt, a vicious black wolf who will do anything to retain control of the pack. Now, with the arrival of the only human they've seen since cubhood, Larak and Kam vow to end Hunt's domination.
Sarah Hartwell, domestic disaster and wolf aficionado, has left her fiancé to spend eight months studying the wolves. Little does she know she will become a pawn in the battle for control of the Shumani -- a pawn Hunt is determined to remove from the game.
Can Larak and Kam convince her to give up a safe, secure life among her own kind for one of danger, passion and the call of the wild?

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.
I swear to God, Sarah, you’re the only woman I know who can burn water. John’s words grated in her mind like the nagging, insistent whine of the Cessna’s engine. As if pushed by an unseen hand the little plane lurched upward, and Sarah Hartwell’s stomach did a slow, unpleasant roll.
“Good one there, eh?” Piers Anders, piloting the bush plane easily with one hand on the yoke, flashed her a grin.
Weakly, Sarah tried to return it, then sighed. Leaning her cheek against the vibrating glass of the window, she stared absently at the endless miles of forest rolling past below, seeing instead the way John’s face had darkened as she’d picked up the phone to hear Piers’ voice on the other end.
It’s him, isn’t it? John’s eyes had narrowed, watching her.
It wasn’t like that, though. It wasn’t. It never had been… although okay, maybe there had been a time when she’d entertained a crush on the tall, rugged man beside her in the cockpit -- a crush he’d never shown the faintest sign of returning.
Which didn’t surprise her -- she was too tall, too gawky. Raw-boned as a plow horse, as her father had put it. Even among the granola-heads of the conservation movement, she’d never met a guy who’d shown the slightest interest in her, preferring to pair up instead with the cute, curvy little volunteers who whined about their aching feet and complained about the weight of their backpacks. Trail-bunnies, Sarah had always called them with thinly-veiled disdain.
Her gaze drifted down to where Piers’ right hand rested on the throttle, a broad gold wedding band gleaming against his deeply tanned skin, and nothing but empty space above the knuckle of his third finger. “When did that happen?”
Glancing down at it, Piers chuckled. “Last spring. Had a little dust-up with a wolverine. Damn things are half pit bull, I swear. Once they get their teeth in you, they don’t let go.”
His expression turned serious, his gaze flicking briefly to her face before he looked back out the windshield, squinting against the afternoon sun. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were new, as well. “You sure about this, Sarah? We can still turn back, you know.”
They could. They could turn around right now, retrace the six hour route south and east to Winnipeg, then the shorter but more jarring flight back to Minneapolis and civilization, back to John and the neat, suburban split-level ranch he’d purchased and moved her into eight days after their engagement. Her castle in the clouds, the fulfillment of every woman’s dream… wasn’t it? Wasn’t it supposed to be exactly that?
Then why in the middle of one more raging fight with John had her heart lifted, soaring like a bird suddenly freed of its cage, at the sound of Piers Anders’s voice on the phone.
John was right, much as it stung to admit -- she couldn’t do anything right. She clogged the vacuum cleaner. She forgot to sort the laundry, turning John’s boxers a dingy slate gray when she’d thrown them in with a new pair of jeans. And, as John had pointed out, his eyes both icy and flashing with annoyance, she was probably the only woman in the world who could burn water.
Maria Anders, Sarah suspected, didn’t burn water. Or order take-out pizza eight nights in a row. Or, she thought ruefully, glancing at Piers’ tee shirt -- as gleaming white as his strong, even teeth -- forget that brand new blue jeans bleed.
She’d met the woman three years ago, at a Christmas party Piers had thrown for the North American Wolf Conservation Council. One look at the tall, statuesque beauty and Sarah had known immediately why, despite all the chances he must have had over the years, Piers Anders had never once wavered in his faithfulness to his wife.
Why couldn’t anyone ever feel that way about her? Okay, so maybe she wasn’t exactly stunning, but still…
Rather than dwell on that depressing subject, Sarah returned her attention to the window. The air was so crystalline she felt she could practically count the spires of pine and fir rushing past below them, broken here and there by gleams of gold and magnificent, blazing splashes of red. The shadow of the plane skated across the hilltops, lengthening and stretching as it chased itself across mile after mile of green, unpopulated forest.
If you leave this time, Sarah… John’s voice had been as flinty as the expression in his eyes. If you leave this time, don’t bother coming back.
Sarah took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “Yeah, Piers. I’m sure.”

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1004