Shadowed: Frenzied by Kate Hill

Shadowed: Frenzied
by Kate Hill

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

Every new soul deserves a chance.
Born of two demons, Michael was smuggled from hell by an angel of mercy and raised on Earth. Aware of his parentage, Michael is torn between his desire for a normal life and his demonic nature.
Rich and sinfully sexy, he has cut himself off from relationships other than physical, satisfying his carnal needs by using an escort service that caters to strange and sometimes supernatural clientele. When one of his favorite escorts is brutally murdered, Michael uses his demonic skills to find her attacker, but someone believes he is the one to blame.
Britt is determined to bring her sister's murderer to justice, even if the police can't due to his airtight alibi and a lack of evidence. She knows Michael is to blame and goes undercover as an escort to prove his guilt and mete out punishment on her own, but can a woman with a lack of sexual experience convince a lustful demon she's for sale? More important, can she keep from falling in love with a man torn between good and evil?
Publisher's Note: Kate Hill's series Mate Marks, Mate Marks Cursed, Prowleryns, Inked, and Shadowed all share the same world and some of the same characters.
Excerpt:
Shadowed: Frenzied
Kate Hill
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Kate Hill

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


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

Immortal Steps
by Kira Stone

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

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

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


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

Dark Reign: Oathbound
by Mychael Black

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

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1713

Blurb:

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

Elian Levine is the guitarist for a metal band, but he has a secret no one knows. When he managed to escape Dalton Gray, he kept the truth hidden, even from his band mates. Now their need for a singer threatens to tear the lid off his closely-guarded past.

Excerpt:

Dark Reign: Oathbound
Mychael Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Mychael Black

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


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

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Under and Over It by Megan Slayer

Under and Over It

by Megan Slayer

ISBN: 978-1-60521-712-3

Genre(s): Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary), BDSM

Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian

Length: Novella

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Blurb:

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

Excerpt:

Under and Over It
Megan Slayer
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Megan Slayer<

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


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

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Hellhound Detective Agency: Relentless by BJ McCall

Cover

Hellhound Detective Agency: Relentless
by B.J. McCall

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

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1712

Blurb:

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

Excerpt:

Hellhound Detective Agency: Relentless
B.J. McCall
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 B.J. McCall

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


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

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Jazz Bang Boom by Willa Okati

 Jazz Bang Boom

by Willa Okati

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

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Blurb: 

T-minus sixty seconds. Really, it was bad manners to blow up a tea party, but some society dames were just asking for it. Jazz landed in the ornamental rose bushes outside his hostess's parlor window, gathered his heavy silk skirts around his knees, and ran like hell.
Jazz loves pretty things and things that go BOOM. Riot, aka "Tyger", is a man on a mission, searching for the bits and pieces that'll repair his damaged, bioconstructed DNA. It only makes sense for the happily mismatched lovers to turn pirate and sneak, snatch or con what they need.
One problem: occasionally Jazz gets a little too fond of explosives, and Tyger gets a tad too focused on his quest. And when that happens... well. That's when the adventuresome airshipmen need to vent a little steam.
Excerpt:
Jazz Bang Boom
Willa Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Willa Okati

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


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

Wolfman: Genesis

by Brannan Black

Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-725-3

Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Dark Fantasy

Theme(s): Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian

Series: Wolfman

Length: Novella

Page Count: 94

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1714

Blurb:

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

Excerpt:

Wolfman: Genesis
Brannan Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Brannan Black

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


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

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How Not to Date a Vamp by Stephanie Burke

Cover

How Not to Date a Vamp

by Stephanie Burke Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-727-7

Genre(s): Paranormal, Humor & Satire

Theme(s): Interracial/MultiCultural, Vampires

Series: How Not To

Length: Novella

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1710

Blurb:

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

Excerpt:

How Not to Date a Vamp
Stephanie Burke
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Stephanie Burke

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


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

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Caveat Emptor: Forgotten Lover by Zenobia Renquist

Caveat Emptor: Forgotten Lover

by Zenobia Renquist Cover art: Marteeka Karland

ISBN: 978-1-60521-681-2

Genre(s): Paranormal

Theme(s): Interracial, Vampires, Magic

Series: Caveat Emptor

Length: Novella

Page Count: 43

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1708

Blurb:

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

Excerpt:

Caveat Emptor: Forgotten Lover
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Zenobia Renquist

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


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

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1708

Wild Ride Collection by Willa Okati

Wild Ride (Collection)

by Willa Okati Cover art: Karen Fox

ISBN: 978-1-60521-547-1

Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense, Dark Fantasy, Time Travel, Wildest West, History Rewritten

Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian

Length: Collection

Page Count: 225

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1711

Blurb:

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

Excerpt:

Wild Ride (Collection)
Willa Okati
Copyright ©2011 Willa Okati

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

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

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

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1711

Fangs in Frosting by Cynthia Sax

Fangs In Frosting

by Cynthia Sax Cover art: Bryan Keller

ISBN: 978-1-60521-659-1

Genre(s): Paranormal, Humor & Satire

Theme(s): Vampires, BBW

Series: Fangs In

Length: Novella

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1709

Blurb:

Hi! My name is Charlotte, and I own the cupcake shop on the corner -- the sole dessert place open late in our neighborhood. My shop has quite a few regular customers but none are as devoted as Viktor -- Mr. Tall, Dark, and Serious. I give him the special treatment, including extra sprinkles on the cupcakes he buys yet never eats, and offering him private tours of my walk-in pantry.
Viktor is a very kinky guy. I never see him before sundown, and he's a biter. Yep, I did him, in the pantry, amongst the boxes of cupcake wrappers and the bags of chocolate chips. During that encounter, he took a little nip out of luscious Lottie, that would be me, and tonight, he's back for more. He says he has plans for me. I hope they don't include clothes.

Excerpt:

Fangs In Frosting
Cynthia Sax
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Cynthia Sax

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


01 Charlotte's Journal
Sweet buttercream filling. The man came back. Through my eyelash supershield, I watch Mr. Tall, Dark, and Serious huddle over a white ceramic mug filled with steaming hot coffee, and a dainty china plate sporting two red velvet cupcakes, the white cream cheese frosting topped with extra chocolate sprinkles. He didn't ask for the extra sprinkles. That's a bonus for banging the owner -- that would be me.
Yep, I did him, or he did me. I don't know which, our hasty encounter being an out of control fuck-for-all in the walk-in pantry. After that multiple orgasmic quickie, I figured Viktor had his fill of big, bold, bosomy me, and when he disappeared into the night, he'd never be seen again. That tends to happen with my lovers.
But I was wrong. He's returned for another helping of luscious Lottie. I smile as the last customer wanders out the door, chocolate smeared on his half-baked face. Our midnight crowd consists mainly of toke smokers, but I don't mind because they'll eat even the day old pastries, and then rave about them to their buddies.
Mr. Fucktastic gets my best stuff, and tonight, I'll rock his rather grim world. I smooth down my happy yellow blouse so the cotton pulls tightly across my generous chest, and I sashay to the door, turning the exterior lights off with a dramatic flick of my fingers.
Like clockwork, Peter, my assistant, wanders out of the kitchen. Flour dusts his hair as though he has been baking, and not avoiding the customers he was hired to serve. I can't fire his rather useless patootie because he's the landlady's deadhead son, and I've been paying that dear, kind woman in banana creams for the past two months. Plus he's adorable.
"All cleaned up, Miss Lottie," he announces with a sheepish smile. Since I cleaned the kitchen an hour ago, I don't find its immaculate condition surprising. "Guess I'll be heading out. Are you okay with...?" He inclines his spearmint green Mohawk head toward my favorite customer.
"I'm fine. Go." My response is unnecessary as Rebel Help has already let himself out, and I make sure the door is locked properly after him. I could be surrounded by axe-wielding fiends, and the kid would still leave on time.
"You need protection." Viktor's deep voice rolls over me like vanilla frosting on a warm lemon sponge cake.
"I'm hoping you brought some, sunshine." I give my gloomy lover a saucy fuck-me smile. "I need your help in the kitchen." This is my attempt at subtle seduction.
"I'm not an employee," he grouses, following me into my home away from home. If the city allowed me to, I'd sleep in my kitchen. That's how much I love it here.
"Too bad because there are some great employee perks." I drift my fingertips over the stainless steel table. This bad boy is all mine. Okay, it mostly belongs to the bank, but my name is on the receipt, and that gives me a giddy sense of ownership.
"That had better be exclusive employee perks." Viktor picks me up, literally and figuratively, and places my butt on the cool flat surface. This is no easy feat because I'm my number one cupcake customer, yet he doesn't even break a sweat, his lean body deceivingly strong.
"Are we exclusive now, sweet stuff?" I gaze up into his eyes. They're the color of the richest Devil food's cake, piped with a circle of red, and are set in a pale, angular face. His dark hair waves back from his face and is tied in a ribbon at his nape. I could so design a cupcake around his striking countenance, and call it the Viktor.
"We're exclusive for all eternity." With that ominous declaration, his mouth covers mine, and all thinking of cupcakes stops, because the man tastes of coffee and chocolate and he kisses like a dream. He is the virtuoso of liplockers, the steamiest of seducers, and I melt against him like butter on a hot plate, grasping his jacket lapels.
He's dressed in his biker gang accountant outfit again -- pairing a black leather suit with a gray shirt. The lack of color has to be contributing to his dour mood, so, as a public service to women everywhere, I push his jacket off his broad shoulders.
Proving that all good turns are rewarded, Viktor kisses me thoroughly, stroking into my mouth, his tongue sliding along mine. We neck like two college kids, sucking on each other's faces, lips pressed against lips. He holds me still as he ravages my mouth, my face sandwiched between his two big hands like he thinks I want to get away from him. I don't. I link my fingers behind his neck, and I pull him closer, spreading my legs in welcome, my staid grass green skirt hiking up to my waist.

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1709

New Reviews for Changeling Press 10/31/11

New Reviews for Changeling Press 10/31/2011

Congratulations to Zenobia Renquist, Cynthia Sax, Selena Illyria, Silvia Violet and Brannan Black!


CAFE MIDNIGHT: CHAMOMILE NIGHTS by Zenobia Renquist
Reviewed by Sensual Reads

Zenobia Renquist begins a new series with one hot story guaranteed to heat up the life of any reader.  Café Midnight is a store that everyone will want on their street.

http://sensualreads.com/?p=6570


CAFE MIDNIGHT: GRANDE by Cynthia Sax
Reviewed by Sensual Reads

An adventure filled with action, sex and lots of humor. Keep the fan handy for this book. It is guaranteed to turn up the heat!

http://sensualreads.com/?p=7874


SEX AND CHOCOLATE: DOUBLE DIPPED by Selena Illyria
Reviewed by Whipped Cream Erotic Romance

Melted chocolate isn't the only thing that melts when reading this story… just plain fun and a delightful story to pass the time with.

http://whippedcream2.blogspot.com/2011/07/sex-and-chocolate-double-dipped-by.html


WET: REEF'S GUARDIAN by Silvia Violet
Reviewed by The Romance Reviews

Tightly written and fun.  I recommend this to water lovers who enjoy an erotic m/m paranormal romance.

http://glbt.theromancereviews.com/viewbooksreview.php?bookid=3797


WOLFMAN: APOCALYPSE by Brannan Black
Reviewed by Whipped Cream Erotic Romance

This series just keeps getting better with each book. This author has done a wonderful job of bringing this world to life and keeping me wanting more.

http://whippedcream2.blogspot.com/2011/10/wolfman-4-salvation-by-brannan-black.html