Excerpt: The Sleeper 2: A Woman Scorned by Nia K Foxx

Sleeper 2: A Woman Scorned
by Nia K. Foxxcover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-761-9
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Interracial, Magic and Mayhem
Series: The Sleeper
Length: Novella

Blurb:

A woman scorned. That description didn’t explain half of what Dr. Alexis “Lexi” Douglas felt. She knew she wasn’t alone. In her practice she’d talked with enough women to see the psychological damage caused by men and quite frankly she was tired of preaching about empowerment and ready to demonstrate a little of it, witch style.
Seven hundred and eighty years of slumber was not nearly long enough for Cor Sielas. His last assignment prevented the expansion of the Mongul Empire, so he’s irritated to learn that the Forces of Nature have awakened him to handle one vindictive little witch. He takes some solace in the knowledge that his subject is female. For the first time he’s interested in mixing business with a little pleasure.

Excerpt:

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

“The lowlife son of a bitch!” Alexis Douglas slammed her office phone down, not caring whether or not the overpriced attorney who “represented” her was still on the other end. After the new asshole she’d just ripped the man it would be no surprise if he’d hung up halfway through her tirade. Maybe now he’d stop calling her with her ex-husband’s new torturous demands disguised in the form of injunctions. She might as well have represented herself for all the help he turned out to be. Perhaps it was paranoia talking, but lately she was feeling as if he were secretly working for her former husband.
It wasn’t enough that her bastard of an ex had cheated on her for the better part of a year, cleaned out her bank accounts, and gotten half of what she had left in the divorce settlement. He just kept coming back for more. And to her amazement her lawyer could only give her blank stares while the judges continued to grant his ludicrous requests. All male judges, she noted. Alexis felt as if she were being made to pay for scores of women who’d managed to walk away with their wealthy exes’ fortunes in the past.
It wasn’t worth ruminating over the unfairness of it all. Trying to pinpoint exactly where things had gone wrong had proven fruitless too. She accepted her mistake lay in falling for the charm of Harrison Blake those many moons ago. Still in medical school, she’d been a bright-eyed twenty-three-year-old flattered by an older, extremely handsome and cultured grad student with aspirations of being an actor. Even after she began her residency Harrison was still aspiring, performing in community theaters and landing bit parts in movies. Alexis was so enamored with him she didn’t mind supporting them while he pursued his dreams. Her career flourished, providing them with a substantial income.
Harrison’s interests had shifted from acting to directing, and Alexis found herself providing the seed money for many ventures that would never amount to anything. She’d even put her desire to have children on hold because he’d wanted to wait until he was in a better place in his career.
The intercom on her phone buzzed and her assistant announced her next appointment. Alexis took several deep breaths before giving the go ahead to send her three o’clock in. As unprofessional as it might be Alexis couldn’t help but feel a certain affinity for her next patient, one Sierra Gonzalez. Mrs. Gonzalez was dealing with a particularly difficult divorce of her own, but Alexis felt her stakes to be far greater. The woman had two daughters. She’d petitioning the courts for sole custody of in light of allegations of molestation committed by her ex-husband.
She handed the petite Mrs. Gonzalez another set of tissues as she sobbed through the end of her session. She empathized with the helplessness Mrs. Gonzalez felt. “Thank you, Dr. Lexi. Talking to you helps, even if it’s only for a little while.” The woman’s lightly accented English was full of sorrow.
“I wish that I could do more for you.”
“Don’t feel guilty, Dr. Lexi. I understand that your kind is limited in what you can do.”
Alexis stiffened in her chair. What did she mean, her kind? In the three months she’d been working with Mrs. Gonzalez, not once had it occurred to her that the woman would have a problem with her race. Although she was the product of a biracial marriage, Alexis, more so than her other two siblings, physically favored the African-American side of their family. Her reddish brown complexion was darker than her sisters’ caramel tones and her tight curly hair was even more pronounced in the short style she wore. She didn’t trust herself to speak as she waited for Mrs. Gonzalez’s next words.
Mrs. Gonzalez fixed her with a puffy brown-eyed gaze. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Dr. Lexi. I don’t care about race. I’m talking about the thing that makes you different from other humans, Doctor. You know what I mean.”
She couldn’t know. It wasn’t possible. Regular mortals weren’t privy to the existence of witches or warlocks beyond what they saw on the silver screen or read in books. Secrecy was paramount to the coven. She’d even hidden her lineage from Harrison, which was possibly the best decision she’d made in dealing with her former husband. She shuddered to think what he would do with the knowledge. “I can assure you that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you do, Dr. Lexi, and I understand why you must deny it so I won’t say anything else. But jus’ think, why it is that God made you different from the rest of us if not to help people in need?”
Alexi opened her mouth to protest but Mrs. Gonzalez’s halting hand kept her quiet. “Jus’ think on what I said, Dr. Lexi.”

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Toys for Trish by Celia Kyle

Toys for Trish
by Celia Kyle

Cover art by Sahara Kelly
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-878-4
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, BBW, Madam Periwinkle's Erotic Delights
Series: Madam Periwinkle's Erotic Delights Multi-Author
Length: Novella

Blurb:

"Man, I’d like a ride on the two-ton Trish train…"
Trish nearly bludgeons her boss to death for voicing his desires, but somehow she fights past the urge to beat him with her stapler and simply gets even, then quits. Just before her grand exit, she gathers her meager possessions and leaves the accounting firm without a backward glance. A block from the office, as she drops yet another stack of papers, she realizes she needs something to carry everything in. She ducks into Madam Periwinkle’s Erotic Delights, where the gracious proprietor gives her a cardboard box with the promise that everything from her shop comes with a little something “extra.” If only she’d known…
Markham Woods can’t believe his luck! Ten years since he’d last seen Trish and now he’s nearly mowed her down on a city sidewalk. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Mark charms his way into spending the afternoon with the lusciously curved Trish. Mark has spent the last ten years wondering if only…

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.

Tomorrow’s headline: Man Bludgeoned to Death with Stapler.

Trish glared at her boss, the only man in the world who managed to hit on and insult her in the same breath. Clunk, click. She stapled another stack of financial statements together in preparation for her two o’clock meeting. Clunk, click. The two pounds of steel and aluminum teased her palm, begging her to whack the smug smile off the man’s face. Clunk, click. She took a deep breath. Cool air filled her lungs and became heated with her growing anger.
Man, I’d like a ride on the two-ton Trish train, he’d said. Two. Clunk. Ton. Click. Trish. Clunk. Train. Click.
She slammed the Swingline 747 business stapler on her desk. The rubber bottom collided with her Formica-clad desk with a satisfying thud and all eyes turned to her. The know-it-all admin who teased Trish mercilessly poked her head above her mauve cubicle wall and stared at her from behind blue-rimmed glasses. So eighties. The evil woman’s partner in crime, and the office’s token gay guy, stuck his head into the hallway, his too-tight shirt straining at the buttons. Just get “twink” tattooed on your forehead, asshole.
She straightened the pile of reports she’d compiled, pretending not to notice the stares and whispers. This was not her usual behavior. Not at all. Her usual response to her boss’s scathing yet suggestive remarks was to lock herself in her office or run home, claiming some sort of illness. Never, not ever, had she rolled her eyes, ignored him and then sat calmly preparing for her afternoon meeting. Well, calm was a tad of an overstatement. Possibly more than a tad.
At precisely two in the afternoon, she gathered the company’s financial statements, five copies in total for the bigwigs and herself, and proceeded to the conference room. Her boss wouldn’t know what hit him. She smiled all the way to her eyes, and she knew without looking that her dimples could be seen. Oh yeah, this was going to be good.
She entered the conference room first, plush carpeting silencing her arrival. Without pausing, she circled the table and placed the financials in front of each of the partner’s regular seats. In moments it would be her, three partners from the firm and her boss. She took her seat, or rather, her boss’s seat. The partners, with her boss in tow, arrived shortly thereafter and the man didn’t say a word about her seating choice. He just glared at her, the promise of retribution in his eyes. Ha! Just wait, asswipe.
The meeting began quietly as the meetings did each and every month. The partners always took a few minutes to review the firm’s financial statements in utter silence before questioning Trish on expenses and the firm’s performance. While she worked with a few select clients throughout the year and during tax season, her main focus was on the financial performance of the accounting firm, Johnson, Wales & O’Megan.
It didn’t take the partners long to discover her little “addition” or would that be “subtraction” from the financial statements.
Mr. Johnson was the first to speak up. “What! What’s this here above Payroll, Trish? Explain this… this expense.”
“Certainly.” She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. “I’ve been working for Johnson, Wales & O’Megan for eight years. For six of those years, I’ve been supervised by Jeff. While working under his supervision I have been subjected to more lewd comments, innuendo and derisive attitude than I care to mention or detail to you three at this point in time.”
Her boss tried to cut her off. “What? She’s --”
“Shut it, Jeffrey,” Johnson interjected.
“As I was saying, Jeff has made my life a living, breathing hell. Today, he asked me what it would cost to take a ride on the two-ton Trish train and indicated that the company would pay for it. I decided to take him up on the offer, calculated my worth and accrued the expense on the financial statement. Obviously, the final number will have to be negotiated with my lawyer, but I feel five million dollars is a good starting point for what I’ve had to endure.” She flipped through the pages in front of her. “And as you can see, I’ve accrued the estimated attorney’s fees for your representation as well as mine here in this section.” She pointed to the area of contention. There, on the operating statements, printed on the company letterhead, was a new section they’d never seen before. Just below General & Administrative Expenses and above Payroll was a new area: Two-ton Trish Train.
Damn, she’d gotten Jeff but good.

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Excerpt: Last Call- Hurricane by Moira Rogers

Last Call: Hurricane
by Moira Rogers

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

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

Excerpt:

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

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Excerpt: Through Topaz

Blurb:


Who would’ve thought Gnomes could be sexy?

Ember has spent months preparing for the spell that will rescue her father. Now, all she has to do is lure the Gnome, Dowan, into her cave and convince him to help her. She doesn’t know why, but he is the one she needs to raise the energy that will power the spell.

Dowan is intrigued by the sexy witch with the sincere eyes. The woman has guts but will she be a match for Lilia, the Faery that has kidnapped Ember’s father and is the enemy of the Gnomes?

Excerpt #2: Adult

His mixture of anger and desire excited her. There was nothing like a little anger to add spice to bed play. It gave a sharp edge to the passion. He stalked toward her, not speaking. She began backing slowly away. In a moment, he had grabbed her and pinned her to the wall. Those topaz eyes in the dark tan face stared at her with animal intent. She ran her hand through his hair, and the eyes changed to blue again from her sapphire ring. He held the back of her head and kissed her with all his anger and passion and desire. It made her breathless. It made her needy. It made her wet.
He ground against her hips -- no waiting, no coaxing. She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him closer, so she could feel more of him against her. He gave a laugh of evil delight when she rubbed her breasts against his chest.
“It’s better this way,” he said as he moved her dress to expose her breasts, which were already tingling. His low, slow rumble of a voice had gotten rough, and that just made her nipples peak harder. He pressed their naked flesh together. The short hairs on his muscular chest stimulated her soft skin, and she grabbed his head to bring him in for another deep kiss. One of her legs wrapped around his hips. His low laugh resonated against her. “You’ll need both feet on the ground for this,” he said.
While she was distracted with their kiss, his hands had found her bottom under the dress. The tiny quakes started in his hands again. He grazed his fingertips slowly down the cleft of her ass. She had never realized how sensitive the skin was there.
She tensed at first when his fingers brushed over her back opening. He kept stroking patiently until she was relaxed enough for him to slide his small finger into her. She moaned loudly. Gods, it felt good.. She never would have imagined feeling such pleasure there. He increased the quaking in his fingers and she arched back against the cave wall. When his other hand began sliding through the slick outer lips of her pussy, her stomach muscles clenched. One finger dipped into her opening and stroked slowly down the inside, then two fingers. Then his thumb started circling her clit.
“Oh, gods, Dowan,” she groaned. It was impossible not to move her hips. There was too much happening inside her body. She did not know what he was doing with his little finger, but whatever it was just doubled the pleasure and the pressure inside her pussy. Added to that were the tingling vibrations against her clit and his hot mouth roving her exposed breasts. His teeth scraped her as he sucked hard on her tender skin. She tried to stop digging her fingernails into his back -- she must be hurting him by now -- but she had to do something with her hands. So, she moved them to his scalp, but she just pulled his hair.
He looked up with her nipple in his mouth and said, “Stop worrying about it. I want to know how aroused you are.”
She knew she was about to come, but she did not know if she would survive it. She tried to pull his head up, but he was reluctant to leave her breasts. “I need something to bite,” she grated at him. His erection pulsed at her admission. He began sucking on the skin of her neck without further protest. She bit his shoulder until the very end, when she had to scream.

Outlook Orgasmic
by Hannah Beckhamcover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-943-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Humor and Satire
Theme(s): Vampires, Madam Periwinkle's Erotic Delights
Series: Madam Periwinkle's Erotic Delights Multi-Author
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=974

BLURB:

Terri Smythe, a transplanted New Yorker, is trying to find her feet in Kansas City. After an emergency "save-me-before-I-slit-my-wrists" visit from her best friends, and a shopping spree at Madam Periwinkle’s Erotic Delights, a Magic 8-ball sets her off on an adventure of a lifetime.
That adventure has one name -- Niko. He’s gorgeous. He’s strong. He’s bold.
He’s also a vampire.

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.

****
“My feet are killing me. Remind me again why I moved to Kansas City?” Terri Smythe asked as she strolled -- more like hobbled at this point -- down Southwest Boulevard with her three best friends. It was already getting dark out, and they’d been walking around the downtown area for more than an hour.
Maggie Bergman, the bubbly red-head of the group, answered first. “Because you needed a change.”
“There’s no one saying you have to stay here forever,” Rena Grace, the tallest of the four, said.
“Oh, quit bitching. We’re supposed to be having a stress free girls day.” Dana Constance, ex-beauty queen and all around fabulously frank, straightened her Spanx. “Come on, this shop is supposed to be da bomb.”
Terri sighed. Her friends meant well, but moving from New York to Missouri had been a shock to her system. Maggie, Rena, and Dana had all flown in earlier in the week for Terri’s emergency “I’m going to slit my wrists from boredom” intervention.
The week had been terrific, they’d stayed up every night talking and laughing into the wee hours. But they were leaving to go back to their lives, and Terri would be alone. Again.
“Fine, whatever, let’s just go.”
“Oh!” Maggie pointed then clapped her hands together. “There’s Madame Periwinkle’s.”
“I’m having second thoughts, ladies.” Rena grimaced. “All this stuff sort of weirds me out. I mean in theory, okay, but to actually go in and shop. I don’t know if I can do it or not.”
Dana stomped her heeled boot on the sidewalk. “Jeeezus, Ren. It’s a freaking novelty shop. No one’s going to be sacrificing virgins with dildos.”
“Even if they were, we’d all be safe.” Terri grinned. Although, truth be told, it had been a long time, since she’d had sex. She might as well be a virgin.
“Yeah, you fucktard. So quit being such a chicken shit.” Dana again.
“Hey!” Rena snapped. “I’m not a chicken shit. And, at least I’m not turning into the crazy dog lady.”
Dana put her hands on her hips. “Oh, that hurt. Not.” She’d added another puppy to her fold, bringing the count to eight dogs and two cats.
“Don’t fight,” Maggie said. “It’s our last day together. Let’s enjoy it.”
By the time the banter ended, they were standing in front of Madam Periwinkle’s Erotic Delights. “We’re already here,” Terri said. “We might as well check it out.”
Maggie clapped her hands again. “Woot!” It’d been her idea in the first place.
A tinkling sounded when Terri opened the door.
Everything in the shop was purple. Including the lady behind the counter. Well, not her skin, but her bustier, her hair, her fingernails, her make-up, and her tight little pants. Her voice was smooth and light. “Welcome, ladies. Please come in. I’ll be with you in just one moment.”
It was rumored that Madam Periwinkle was a mystical erotic shop. She was supposed to psychically know what you needed in order to fulfill your fantasies. Terri didn’t buy it, not for one minute. But they were having fun, and this was supposed to be part of it.
The concept was this, you handed Madame Periwinkle ten dollars and she’d give you an item in a paper bag. It was basically a grab bag situation, like going to the fair, only instead of a two dollar stuffed animal, you’d walk out with something to help with your love life.
Terri and her buddies waited at the counter for Madame Periwinkle to return. She came out with four purple gift bags. After they all put their ten-dollar bills on the counter, she handed a bag to each of them. “Don’t open them just yet.” Madam Periwinkle winked. “Wait until you get home.”
With bag in hand, Terri turned to say something to Rena but was stopped when she slammed into a very large obstacle rushing through the front door. Dana and Rena were at her side immediately, but Maggie stood stunned. Gaping.
Terri followed Maggie’s line of sight and had to fight to keep her own jaw off the ground.
“Oh my god,” Rena whispered. “He’s beautiful.”
Terri nodded before she could stop herself. Even though she was off men, entirely, some eye candy was just too good not to appreciate. And this eye candy had yummy-licious written all over him. Medium height, about five feet eleven inches, if she had to guess, and he wore the tightest black T-shirt, which fit snug against his muscular chest, and the black slacks he wore were like a second skin.
“Oish.”
A feeling of electricity shot through her body when she noticed that while she was checking out his goods, he was checking her out. Their eyes met, and his were dark like obsidian, filled with anger and rage. Dangerous. The word echoed in Terri’s mind as a chill slid down her spine. She looked away.
“Are you all right, darling?” Dana asked.
“Fine. Help me up so we can get out of here.”
The man didn’t apologize, didn’t say a word as he walked past them to the counter.
“Rude much?” Rena said.
“Leave it alone,” Terri hushed her. She dusted her jeans. “Let’s just go.”

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EXCERPT: Magik Ink: Dark Lotus by Fiona Jayde

Magik Ink: Dark Lotus
by Fiona Jayde
Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-064-3
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Shunga
Series: Magik Ink
Length: Novella


http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=978

BLURB:

He has been cold for nearly two centuries. A tattoo artist by day and an assassin by night, Kyoto Hajime must kill the ones chosen by Magik to keep the gift from twisting into something dark. Ensuring that monsters like his brother cannot consume the dark power they crave.
Jim’s ink will denote Magik’s choice. He must kill Tia Morse, the woman he had marked with the Dark Lotus -- a Vegas bartender whose touch gives him the warmth he has not felt in years.
Duty must come before desire. But years of discipline may crumble when passion’s fire burns through ice and Magik’s choices are no longer clear.

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.

***
He had learned to deal with the cold. The constant ice that rasped his veins kept reminding him he was nothing more than Magik’s soldier. Forged like a weapon; cold like the steel he used to take another’s life. Kyoto Hajime. Not altogether human, not immortal, he was just ice, hungry and sharp, kept alive by the same Magik he protected.
In the dark, high up above the masses, Jim stared at the glowing Vegas skyline. He watched the swarms of tourists and the ones who served them, the flares of light, hearing the clicks of heels, the drunken high-pitched laughter. While the times and fashion changed, he remained young, his body frozen, his heart ice. And if the humans on the street below knew the price of immortality, they’d thank whatever god they followed for keeping their lives short, and for the most part, meaningless.
Luxury meant nothing. If he could bother to turn on the lights, the soft glow would bathe over rich fabrics and satin sheets. The shiny coffee table would gleam in cherry reds, the lush patterns of the carpet would swirl their jeweled tones. And none of those opulent colors had ever helped him when the cold turned brutal, or when sleep, his only respite, wouldn’t come.
He’d chosen this place because the height of it suited his mood, just as he’d chosen this life because the cold suited his purpose.
He was a killer, a warrior assassin who took the lives of those who chose Dark Magik. He atoned for his weakness because he could not lift his sword to end his brother’s life.
He watched the city breathe below him, and found his thoughts returning to the woman he’d met earlier today. The one who came to Magik Ink both scared and determined to have him mark her body.
She had a glow of vulnerability around her, one she kept hidden under the protective layer of a tough girl -- a layer of makeup, and skintight jeans molding her ass. A broken wing hid somewhere below the war paint. She had demanded him specifically, and didn’t blink when she was told his price and that he chose his own artistic license.
Jim wondered what she would have done had she been told that the world famous steady hands were sure and swift due to hours with a sword. Kyoto Hajime, sought-after tattoo artist of intricate Nipponese designs, created art by day and killed in the hot Nevada night.
She’d bared her body despite the shyness he had glimpsed in those witch-hazel eyes. Those sweetly rounded curves were tempered with muscle, a discipline Jim understood. In Vegas, one lived through their beauty. And she was beautiful with that curved, firmly muscled body, her dark blonde hair bundled up into a messy bun, those green eyes challenging him, shyly asking him to look at her, to want her.
Had she been showgirl gorgeous and fully aware of the fact, he wouldn’t have given her a second thought. But this vulnerability so valiantly hidden under a mask of toughness captured his interest. Too bad he had no time for wounded angels, especially those who forced themselves to meet his gaze despite their shyness.
She’d chosen a lotus and surprised him. He pegged her wanting something flashy, perhaps a dragon since she appeared to be into Japanese motifs, perhaps a string of Kanji. Something ridiculous like “honor” or “the way” -- symbols often worn but rarely understood. But Tia Morse wanted a lotus, something to curve over her hip and buttocks, and she’d lain on the padded bench expecting him to mark her skin.
He had to force himself to keep his touch impersonal. With what Magik he had, Jim had lulled her to sleep and hadn’t waited around to see if she had liked his design on her. The power was already there, a small touch that had him recoiling. If Magik chose her, he’d have to kill her soon enough.
He thought of those bright eyes dulling with pain or darkening to black from abusing Magik. He thought of her lips bleeding once his brother fed on her power, a kiss of death, a long dull twist and pull of everything she had.
His heartbeat pounding, Jim reached behind him, feeling for the leather bindings of his sword. The hilt was warm against his palm, the only warmth he had been allowed to feel in a long while. The leather had been worn smooth and soft with age, the sword it cradled forged in the tradition of the Samurai. He didn’t have the mental strength to slice it through his brother’s neck, or the honor to end a life that had lost all but the greed for more. More Magik and more power. Simply more.
He pictured this same sword plunging inside the girl while Dark Magik pumped inside her veins. She’d choose it -- all the humans did. In past centuries he’d never met a human who didn’t use the gift in anger, in the need for revenge, or simply greed. Eventually she would twist Magik into something vile and open herself so Yoshida could feed.
The Dark could only feed upon itself. Because of weakness, he watched Yoshida turn innocents to darkness for the sole purpose of devouring their power. By torture or by promises, his brother sought out Magik’s chosen and twisted them until he could consume their gift into himself. The more he had, the more he craved it.
And still Jim could not lift his sword to kill his brother, even when Yoshida had prepared for that final blow to sever Jim’s head from his body. Jim had thought he would find peace at last.
The Lorekeepers thought otherwise.
The cold inside him let Jim live for centuries, killing the ones gifted with Magik so his brother would eventually starve. He would atone for his cowardice by killing innocents before they turned to the darkness -- before Yoshida could feed on that twisted Magik.
The irony was that Jim was the one to mark them. They’d seek him out, wanting a brand, an imprint. Tattoos were sacred in his world, marking the skin with truth, glowing with excess Magik.
And in the modern world where tattoos had become a fashion statement, he never knew if he would have to kill the ones he’d just marked.
Tiana. Tia Morse, with tough girl clothes and cautious eyes, too much mascara and a lush, full mouth. Perhaps if she weren’t chosen after all, he would allow himself a chance to see her once again, if only for the pleasure of it.
Vegas lights glittered on the sharp edge of his sword. Inside his mind, the Lorekeeper spoke in his birth language. She will be sacrificed.
Jim’s gut churned wildly at the thought.
The ink will speak. You must kill her before your brother does.

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Excerpt: Acacia 2: Blindsided by L Shannon

Acacia II: Blindsided
by L. Shannoncover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-952-1
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Acacia
Length: Novella

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BLURB:

Within the refuge of the moon Acacia, vampires have established peace and built a thriving empire based on control and logic. But emotion rules their hearts and lust defies logic through the long cool nights.
Dr. Blake, a high ranking member of Acacia’s Medical Division, is shocked to find blood donations to the vampire moon colony have been contaminated with an antigen that could wipe out their entire race. Who would contaminate the blood, with what and why? The answer may cost him his life -- and his one chance at true happiness.

EXCERPT:

Acacia II: Blindsided

L. Shannon

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2008 L. Shannon

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

****
“You don’t want to go in there, Med Blake, not yet.”
Blake paused beside his human slave, Dash. “Explain to me why I don’t wish to enter my own examination room.”
A flush spread up Dash’s thick tanned neck. The slave’s embarrassment was tempting to all of Blake’s baser instincts. Despite the pressing duties, Blake vividly imagined drawing in close enough to that flushed skin, close enough to smell the sweet blood and feel the heated flesh.
He jerked his mind away from the possibility he’d been denying for years. He should be processing the new arrivals from Rahla, not daydreaming about his best assistant. “Well?”
“Agent Aeron and his new consort are inside. They are… intimately occupied.”
“Indeed. Well, perhaps we can give them a few more minutes.” Blake turned away from his exam room and instead led the way to his office, tucked between his two private exam rooms. He might as well check over the files while he waited.
Dash, following in his wake, hesitated at the doorway. “Master?”
Hiding his grin at Dash’s discomfort, Blake flipped on the low grade lights and picked up the top file on his desk. “Relax, Dash. Observation is a most useful tool for any med specialist.” The large window in front of the room faced into exam room one, where the subjects of his files were demonstrating their healthy conditions.
Agent Aeron was performing quite vigorously considering his recent injuries. But oddly it was not the physical elements that drew his attention. Instead, it was the connection that the couple seemed to share. Blake glanced at the file. The couple had just met on Aeron’s last mission, and yet they appeared to be completely attuned to one another. Even while her thigh slid upward over his own, Agent Aeron’s hand caught her knee, tightening the leverage there. What at first seemed to be the simple act of copulation on closer inspection was more like a dance. “They are quite beautiful, are they not?”
Dash cleared his throat. “Perhaps they should have some privacy.”
Continuing to watch the couple together was not medically relevant. Why had he become caught up in the moment? He should remain objective, yet even his body was reacting to the desire to experience such an interaction. Which was ridiculous. There was no one in his life he felt that connected to, so it was a fool’s wish. Dash was right to redirect their attention. “You are far wiser than your young years.”
“No so young, Med Blake.”
He looked back at Dash, surprised to see his slave was right. The years had passed in a blur. Dash was no longer a boy, but had grown into a fully mature man. He’d seen the changes before, but never thought of Dash as anything more than the orphaned boy he’d claimed as a servant for his household. “Still young.” At least compared to his own three hundred and twelve years.
“What about the other one?” Dash looked toward the long window on the opposite wall.
“Doctor Kaven.” The man had never worked medicine among the vampires so he chose to keep his human title even though he was no longer one of them. “Come, we can see to him while our other patients are occupied.”
He returned to the hallway, but paused before entering the second exam room. “Dash, please retrieve blood for the doctor. I believe his most pressing condition will be malnourishment, which we can begin treating immediately.” Trusting Dash to do as he was asked, he continued into the room.
Dr. Kaven stood in the opposite corner. He might be attempting to appear relaxed, but his emaciated body was tight, bordering on animalistic, radiating paranoid fear.
Blake made no attempt to approach. Their kind, especially the young ones like Kaven, had little restraint when cornered. His patient had been starved, beaten and tortured. He wasn’t going to be the trusting sort.
Blake sat beside the exam table, more than eight feet from the patient. “Dr. Kaven, I’m very glad to have you back on Acacia.” He looked down at his file, giving the doctor time to relax. “In case no one has explained, you will be staying here at the import and arrival facility under my care until you feel well enough to return to an independent residence.”
“Can I leave now?”
“Yes, of course you may. But I was hoping you would be willing to stay here for the next full night at least. I’d like to be certain you are well, but if you’d prefer future exams to be done in your quarters, that can be arranged.”
Kaven gathered himself enough to step away from the wall. “My daughter came with me. Can I see her?”
“Yes, but she is with Agent Aeron at the moment. Perhaps while we wait we can do something to make you look more presentable to her. She must have been terribly worried by your current condition.” The door opened and Dash stepped into the room carrying a translucent blue silicone insulated cooler. The blood sacks were visible through the sides.
But Kaven’s gaze was locked on Dash, not the bags of blood. The hunger bursting forth on the patient’s face was almost painful in intensity.
Much as Kaven might want “fresh from the source” blood, he wouldn’t have enough restraint yet to feed without killing. “Thank you, Dash. You can wait in my office.”
As if the flare of Kaven’s nose wasn’t enough warning, the moment Dash turned his back, the vampire moved as if to pounce.
Blake’s instincts reacted before his mind had a chance to calculate all the factors. In less than a human heartbeat, he was between the patient and his slave. Fortunately, Dash had lived among the vampires all his life. The mistake of turning his back on an injured vamp was a rare one. And even now while safely outside the door, his heart rate only increased marginally, a sure sign of trust.
Kaven came to a sudden stop and then backed away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Of course not. It is natural that your body will try to replenish what it is lacking.” Blake kept his voice calm, but Kaven’s condition was alarming. He was on the verge of going feral and yet had too little control to seek appropriate measures to correct the problem. “My servant brought fresh high quality blood to help you recover all the faster. Please, help yourself.”
“No, I won’t,” Kaven said while backing away from the cooler.
The reaction was not what Blake had expected. He flipped open the file again, but found no answers there. “Dr. Kaven, you need to feed. The blood will help you recover your strength, body mass and self-control.”
“Not bagged. I… they did something to the blood.”
“What do you mean? Explain. Do you believe this blood is contaminated in some way?” Was this just paranoia from Kaven’s mistreatment? Or was it possible that whatever they’d done to the blood had been done to the imported blood as well?
“The Reapers and their damn scientists. They did something to the blood. It tasted fine, but it made us all ill. Killed the others. The first batch of tainted blood made me sick. That’s when I started refusing blood. The others… they kept testing the new batches on the others and they all died. Violently. Horribly.”
“All this blood has been through our testing facility, but what you say is serious. We can look at it now to be sure.” He lifted one bag and poured it into a specimen jar. “Come, you’re a doctor. You can help me with this.”
Setting up a second examination scope and slide, Blake motioned to the chair beside him. Whether the doctor wished to help or not was up to him, but he set to studying the slide at once. Time crawled, passing in silence, but he found nothing. “The blood appears normal, rich and healthy.”
Kaven had looked some for himself and then taken to pacing the exam room. “Nothing?”
“Did you find anything unusual?”
Kaven shook his head. “No, but I haven’t much experience with blood poisons or pathogens. At least not with anything unusual. I didn’t know what to look for.”
Blake faced Kaven and laid out the truth. “I understand your concerns completely, but you will not be allowed to feed directly from a human when you are in such dire need as you are. It will not happen. Your only option is bagged blood.”
Kaven nodded, but fear laced his expression.
“I’ll test the blood myself in the most conclusive way possible.” He lifted the specimen jar and downed the contents in a long swallow. “Now we will both know if there are any ill effects.”

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Black Planet: Dragon's Blood
by Belinda McBridecover art by Zuri
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-082-7
Genre(s): Futuristic, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi, Cyber-Punk
Theme(s): Interracial
Series: Black Planet
Length: Novella
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Blurb:
San Francisco, 2183 CESan Francisco was never the same after the Great Shake of ‘08. On the ruins of Fisherman’s Wharf, a ramshackle city rose like a mushroom, a strange dichotomy of safety and corruption. In this forbidden city, a monster prowls the corridors and alleys, seeking the nanite-enhanced flesh and blood of underground cage fighters.
Detective Annie Tanaka once survived an encounter with the monster. The attack left her clinging to life and riddled with fear. Now the monster has returned, and is hunting in her territory. She will need every weapon in her arsenal to face this enemy and prevail.
Unfortunately for Annie, her partner hates her and is next on the monster’s menu. And Annie’s mentor is a legendary fight master who hasn’t been seen in decades.
As she closes in on the creature, Annie Tanaka quickly discovers that her real enemy isn’t the monster, but her own fear. And against that fear, Annie must stand alone.
Note: The events in this story take place thirty years prior to Little Dragon.
EXCERPT:
She broke the kiss. “Wait…”

She pushed back, standing, and unbelted his robe, letting it fall away from his body. He was muscular but lean. It amazed her that this beautiful body of his took so much punishment. There was a small scar over his hip; that had come from a domestic disturbance call. The victim had suddenly turned on her rescuers, attacking Annie with a knife as she cuffed the woman’s drunken husband. Aiden had saved her life that night, intercepting the attack, getting cut himself.

She surveyed his body, seeing the small scars of youth and childhood, but nothing newer. Nothing recent to mark the ugly turn his life had taken. His cock rose long and dark from a thatch of black hair, his balls dropped heavily beneath the shaft. Annie carefully drew his legs apart and knelt between them, exquisitely aware of the supplicant posture she assumed.

Aiden’s body grew rigid, his dark eyes fairly blazed with heat. When she took his shaft in hand, he shivered.

“My God, Annie!” He jumped when her mouth slid over the head of his cock. Inwardly, Annie smiled. She was in the pose of submission, but held all the power at this moment.

He was big, bigger than she could comfortably take in, so Annie clasped his shaft, giving long, smooth strokes as she suckled and licked at the head of his cock. She tasted the salty tang of pre-come, smelled the musk of his arousal as he became more excited. Aiden slid forward in the hard wooden chair, giving her more access to his body.

Annie fondled his balls with her free hand, teasing up behind the delicate orbs, the tips of her fingers pressing his anus. He flinched, and gasped, and she pulled her head back, looking up at him.

“Is this okay?” The tip of her finger pressed in a tiny bit, playing with that tight circle of muscle. He nodded.

“Not too much though, just there…“ His words trailed off on a sigh as she pressed a moist finger to his back entrance, her mouth returning to his balls. Annie felt his muscles contract on her finger rhythmically, his balls began to grow tight to his body. Annie looked up, the expression on his face made her heart stand still. Lust and want, certainly, but a look of wonderment and love had settled over his face. Love for her.


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Excerpt: Elven Enticement by Willa Okati

Elven Enticement
by Willa Okati

Cover art by Zuri
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-461-8
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Ménage, Bisexual and More, BBW, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: Elven
Length: Novella
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BLURB:
The Elves are back in town…
Alyssia's had it up to here with being a good Elven girl. She wants some action, some adventure, and something to do with her life except hang around in the eternally perfect, one-hundred-percent boring Underhill.
Besides, she's never fit in, and a lady wants to go where they appreciate her, right? Yep. Poking a hole between the Veil that separates world from world, Alyssia makes her escape -- and stumbles head-first into Interesting Times.
Devin and Cam have been through a rough patch lately, divisions and arguments threatening to end their relationship. They're still in love, though, and wish they could find a way to make things right with one another.
What they need is a little help. Possibly even Elven help. And lucky them, Alyssia knows she's just the one to lend a hand and make Devin and Cam fall in love all over again.
And, lucky for her, pretty soon Devin and Cam have ideas of their own about what to do with a pretty Elven maid, and they'd bet their love that she'll like them…

EXCERPT:

Elven EnticementWilla OkatiAll rights reserved.Copyright ©2008 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.
Alyssia poked at the tiny hole she’d unraveled between realities. They said I couldn’t find it. Ha! she exulted. Showed them, didn’t I?
Not that her quest had been an easy one, oh no. Not even Elven eyes could see the Veil unless, one, they knew exactly what they were looking for, and two, knew the taste of honeysuckle, thick on the tongue when you breathe in the stormy mist, that’d fill the air when an Elf drew close.
“It’s forbidden for proper Elven maids to go traipsing from one world to another,” she scoffed, plucking at the fraying strands of the divide between the Summerlands and the human world. Her wings fluttered in time with her speech, their bright butterfly patterns and delicate filaments sensitive enough to detect the slightest change in the wind. “Never mind that Elven men can do what they darn well please and waltz in and out all day long if they like. Pfft! Let anyone just try and stop me. I’m outta here.”
As best as she could tell, stepping through this twist in the Veil would spit her out -- where, again? Ca Nada? May Nee? Somewhere without many people. She was almost sure of it.
A good practice field for an Elven maid who planned on making this journey as many times as she could. A girl had to start somewhere, right? And anywhere was better than the Summerlands. By the Lady, eternal perfection got boring after a couple hundred years!
“Weather,” she muttered, busily unweaving threads of the Veil. “Real weather. Snow! Rain! Maybe I’ll even get sunburned. Wonder if I’ll freckle?” She blew back a wisp of fair blonde hair, stubborn in its refusal to curl -- ever -- like a proper Elven lady’s should -- or to grow any further than just beneath her pert shoulder blades, just above the top of her butterfly wings. At least no one could find fault with, or be picky about, her wings. They were as brightly colored as any Elven beauty’s, and just as hotcha-hotcha where the men were concerned. She’d heard some human men had a “thing for wings.” It’d be interesting to see if that was fantasy or fact.
What sucked more than the centuries of ennui in a land where nothing happened except perfection, perfection, and more stinking perfection? Being imperfect. Yeah. That one bit the big honker.
She’d heard that people were actually different on Earth. Tall, short, heavy, skinny, bald, too hairy; they had big feet and freckles and they smelled like something besides jasmine or roses.
By the Lord and Lady, Alyssia would kill to meet a guy who smelled male. Though she wasn’t sure exactly how that’d work out. Her best guess? Maybe a little like one of the horses.
In which case a dose of jasmine might not hurt.
“Almost through?” she queried the loosening threads, as if they could speak back to her. “I think so!” She poked her finger through the hole and when nothing bit it off -- she might have been a smidge worried -- slid her arm through up to the elbow and waggled it about. Up and down.
The Veil stirred, making a sound like rustling silk, rumpled as if in irritation, and parted almost -- almost --wide enough to let her whole body through.
Wow!
One more thread, Alyssia decided. One teensy-weensy tweak of just the right strand and then full speed ahead. But which cord needed to go? She wiped a smudge of dirt off her forehead -- an Elven maid who got dirty, go figure -- and stared at the invisible Veil. She could spend all day here trying to figure it out and maybe still get it wrong.
Alyssia shrugged, grabbed a handful of Veil and yanked hard. “Now or never, baby,” she said, eagerly seizing the torn edges and hurling through, wings unfurling wide to send her soaring. “Real world, here I come. Look out belooooooooooooooooow!”

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Spaceport: Scavenger by BJ McCall

Spaceport: Scavenger
by B.J. McCall

Cover art by Sahara Kelly
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-965-1
Genre(s): Futuristic, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Spaceport
Series: Spaceport Multi-Author
Length: Novella
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Blurb:

Scavenging space junk isn’t glamorous or lucrative, but finding a disabled Allied Planets Security drone is an unexpected treasure Captain Anexa Loy can’t pass up. Although pinching the drone is illegal and outrunning an APS Patrol fighter is dangerous, Anexa needs the money.
The booty on board, Anexa returns to Spaceport Adana where she meets Davis, a sexy hunk too charming to ignore. Giving into temptation can be risky business.
Lt. Davis Darkano of APS Patrol falls hard for the Spaceport beauty, but when he discovers the woman of his dreams has the stolen drone Davis must decide between love and duty.
EXCERPT:
Spaceport: ScavengerB.J. McCallAll rights reserved.Copyright ©2008 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.
“Claws on target.”
Seated at the bridge, Captain Anexa Loy watched the action on the cargo bay monitors as the huge claws of the retracting arms clamped down on the twisted chunk of metal. To most space trekkers it was junk, but to a scavenger the hunk of floating debris was credits in the bank. Her crewman, Souzai, was working the claws and keeping Anexa informed of his progress. Souzai’s sister, Ulina, was poised to close the huge bay doors the moment the junk was retrieved.
“Arms retracting,” Souzai reported.
Excited by the find and already calculating the worth of the metals, Anexa asked, “What is it?”
“Looks like an APS drone or what’s left of one,” Souzai said.
Allied Planets Security had hundreds of identical drones patrolling AP controlled space. Anexa adjusted the camera controls, focusing closer on the mangled mass. A blast had taken out a good portion of the side, exposing the drone’s interior.
The smugglers and pirates were getting bolder. With the AP Security expanding its patrols, business was suffering. Unauthorized scavenging included. Grabbing a drone and busting it down for parts and metals was risky, but so far Anexa’s forays into the AP restricted zones had paid off. If she was caught scavenging without a permit, the Scavenger Guild would fine her ass.
If she was caught grabbing a drone the APS would toss her ass in jail, but times were lean and Adana creditors were downright mean. At least the APS couldn’t accuse her of blasting the drone. The Karang Guni had never carried that kind of firepower.
Moving slowly, the huge arms pulled the drone toward the empty cargo bay. Bringing the twisted hunk of metal into the ship’s bay required skill and precision. Her finances were tight enough without expensive repairs. “Careful, Souzai.”
“Millimeters to spare, Captain.”
As the nose of the damaged drone entered the bay, Anexa thought about all the overdue bills the haul would pay. She might have enough left over to afford a few necessities like spare parts.
Anexa lived aboard the Guni and sold her junk on Spaceport Adana. The rusting structure supported a growing population unable to survive on the hostile environment of the planet it orbited and for which it was named. Although the ship was aging, the Guni was home and collecting space junk wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest work, most of the time.
The monotone voice of the ship’s computer sliced into Anexa’s joyful anticipation. Unidentified craft. Range two hundred.
Chui! Anexa tore her gaze from the bay monitor, swiveled in her captain’s chair to the primary sky screen. Moving fast, the tiny speck of light was bearing down on her position. “Interception?”
Nine standard minutes.
“Identification?”
Working.
Anexa glanced at the bay monitor, mentally fighting a quick battle. Bring the drone in and risk interception or release it and run. Given her desperate financial situation and low supplies, breaking down the drone into scrap was worth the risk. “Souzai. We’ve got company, coming at us fast. Can we do this like now?”
“Aye, Captain.”
Eight standard minutes.
Anexa’s heart pounded as the seconds ticked off. Her gaze darted back to the screen.
Craft identified. Allied Planets Security Patrol fighter.
The fighters were armed to the teeth and the pilots were the AP Security hotshots. “Souzai. APS Patrol fighter. He’s coming fast. We’ve gotta move. Now!”
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Coyote's Woman
by Ann Vremontcover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-059-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Horror
Theme(s): Werewolves, Shunga
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=979

Lucy Suther is a bartered woman who hates the sight of dust rising up on the road into the Double Nought Ranch. It accompanied her on her bound arrival and bore silent witness to her marriage to a smuggler of flesh and drugs. Now her husband is two months missing and hoped dead, she’s trapped on the remote ranch, and the coyote that killed off her chickens is growing bolder. So, when a sexy stranger claiming to be her brother-in-law drives in on a cloud of dust, she has to wonder -- will trusting him earn her a way off the Double Nought or an express ride to a moonlit grave?

EXCERPT:
Coyote’s WomanAnn VremontAll rights reserved.Copyright ©2008 Ann Vremont
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.
In the three years I’ve lived on the Double Nought Ranch, I’ve never welcomed the sight of dust rising up on the dirt road. Drugged and tied in the back of a truck, choking on dirt for twenty miles, dust was my first impression of the place and I knew then things would only get worse.
As Deacon Esrial prophesied upon leaving me with my new husband, I arrived in dust and I would leave as dust.
My new husband, Theo Suther, was not one of the saved. Neither, according to Deacon Esrial, was I. At twenty-one, I had not taken a husband from among the deacons of the Last Testament Church, though several had taken me. My screaming and kicking and the bruises and broken bones that accompanied my protests were bad for morale among the other young women. I was an apostate. I had been blessed with the Word and I rejected it.
For that reason, I was outcast from the Kingdom of the Last Testament. But Deacon Esrial didn’t believe in being wasteful. So he traded me to Theo for a little bit of Jesus -- a gallon Ziploc of ecstasy -- and left in a cloud of dust.
What did I do for three years on a ranch on the Arizona/Mexico border halfway between Nogales and Naco with no other living soul in sight, no identity and no family that would take me in even if they could find me in the first place? What did I do in a borderland already littered with the bodies of dead, unwilling women? I survived. I laid the fuck still because the beatings I got for being a dead log when Theo fucked me weren’t nearly as life threatening as the ones he gave me when I fought back.
I waited for the day the gun was nearby and his back was turned.
Not only was Theo hyper-vigilant about hiding his keys or placing his gun, but he also had a preternatural sense of danger. The weeks and months turned into years. I escaped a couple of times early on -- caught once by a dirty border agent who ran drugs with Theo. The other times, I only made it into the surrounding desert and earned myself a case of heat stroke.
Things started to change six months ago. Theo became erratic -- leaving in the middle of the night, running into the desert with his gun and keys but without bolting me down in the shed. Two months ago, he seemed to completely break down, running in a wild rage through the house before he flew out the front door and into the night, taking only his keys and cell phone with him. So now I had a shotgun, plenty of shells, a house and shed stocked for the apocalypse and a car with no keys.
Oh, yeah, and dust rising up on the horizon with no time to run for one of the covered pits surrounding the house.
Shielding my eyes against the sun, I spotted a beat up Chevy truck -- probably white but showing beige as it rumbled over the dirt road. I stepped onto the patio with the shotgun cradled in my arm. The truck stopped in front of the house with a kick of dirt and gravel. The man who got out was a head taller than the top of his pick-up cab -- probably the tallest man I’d seen in real life. He had on jeans, hiking boots and a dirty white t-shirt. Tanned skin showed where the tight clothes didn’t cover him and sunglasses masked his eyes.
Let me say it right now -- I’m not dead, just badly damaged. There had been boys my own age within the confines of the Kingdom. My body had responded like any girl’s would. I even made out a few times until we were discovered and punished -- the boy deemed lost and expelled from the compound. I, on the other hand, had been beaten and scoured, re-baptized in an effort to save me. At least the deacons called it a baptism. The TV news shows piped in via Theo’s satellite called it waterboarding.
So, yeah… not dead, just damaged. My awareness of the stranger’s good looks -- the hard, muscled body, chiseled jaw and firm lips, the aura of mystery and sensuality the sunglasses added -- was more than peripheral. But my knowledge that there were no white knights outside of Hollywood was complete. Anyone setting foot on Double Nought was a danger to me until proven otherwise, and I kept the shotgun aimed in the stranger’s general direction as he approached.
Running my hand over the cold steel barrel, I adopted my best tough bitch pose and gestured at the Chevy. “Haul your ass back to the truck and move on, Mister.”
He smiled at that and kept on walking, pushing the shades up as he stepped onto the front patio. Five feet from the end of the barrel, he stopped and hooked his thumbs into the front pocket of his jeans. “Theo home?”
With the sunglasses up, I could see that his irises were a Bisbee blue, the same color as the turquoise they pulled out of the ground around here, and laced with black and a hint of danger as he stared at me. His hair was black, too, and kept long enough to curl around his neck. A pale white scar, stark against the deep tan, ran along his left cheek, starting just below the dark fringe of eyelashes and cutting down to the square jaw. Straight white teeth and the devil’s grin.
They’d warned us about men like this in the Kingdom -- good-looking, easy-going -- in short, everything the deacons weren’t. It wasn’t the deacons’ warnings that worried me, but the network of black that spread through the irises. I’d seen that same veined pattern along the irises before, with Theo’s coppery gaze and in some old pictures boxed out in the shed, the name on the back scratched out. Whoever this man was, those eyes told me he was a blood relative to Theo.
I took a step back and raised the shotgun. “Push off!”
There was no fear in this one. He stepped closer, straight up to me until the barrel of the shotgun was pressed against his flesh. “You must be Theo’s, what, wife? Girlfriend? I’m Shane -- his brother.”
I tightened my grip on the shotgun, worried that he’d try to take it from me, as close as he was now. “I don’t give a fuck who you are. Theo’s not here, and you’re not welcome.”
Shane shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “I’ll wait.”

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Excerpt: The Agency-- Bear's Den by Michelle Hasker

Agency: Bear's Den
by Michelle Haskercover art by Karen Fox

ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-741-1

Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure

Theme(s): Shapeshifters

Series: Agency

Length: Novella


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Blurb:
Richard’s had his best agents on this case from the start, but after one too many mistakes he’s not going to trust this final mission to anyone else. His ex-lover is his one hope to fix the trouble his agents have caused and capture the head of the drug cartel once and for all. Unfortunately, Sydney’s not the same woman he once knew and loved.
Sydney blew her last chance with Richard because of her fears and insecurities. She’s learned from her mistakes, and even if Richard never forgives her, she’ll do her damnedest to win him back, and prove she’s all the woman he needs, or die trying.
EXCERPT:
The Agency 4: Bear’s DenMichelle HaskerAll rights reserved.Copyright ©2008 Michelle Hasker
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.
Richard studied the all white exterior of the house and wondered why Erik Hardaway had a fascination with the color. Or lack of color.
Sydney had convinced him that Erik was only guilty of ignorance in this case, but it didn’t mean he had to trust the man. A woman could be swayed by a handsome face. Especially one she’d been sleeping with for the past year.
Too much depended on this. It had taken years to get this close to shutting down the operation, and nothing -- not even personal feelings -- would keep him from putting the mastermind behind bars. He would retire with every case satisfactorily solved, and move as far from the luscious Sydney as he could.
The door opened before he could press the doorbell a second time. He pasted a smile on his face and waited for the person to step out of the shadows and greet him. The man who did was as immaculately dressed as Jess and Chase had warned him Erik would be, but the look on his face was not what he’d expected. Instead of a pleasure loving man concerned with his appearance and entertainment, he was a man who looked haunted by demons both internal and external. Richard could relate to that well.
“You look even fiercer than Sydney described.”
Richard gave a harsh laugh. That made two of them. Before he could make a comment, Erik pulled the door open wider and stepped to the side. “I’ve sent some of my staff on vacation while we sort out this mess. The attempts on my life are one thing, but I’ve already lost enough staff members I actually care about. I’m not even sure if I can trust my kitchen help anymore.”
“You’re worth more to them alive than dead.” Richard looked around the foyer. The bright white, enormous and expensive decorations were everything Chase had promised, and then some. And Erik was exactly as Jess described.
They stood almost the same height, except Erik was about an inch taller. Richard stiffened his spine and stared into the man’s blue eyes. As he studied the man’s tanned skin and blond hair, he understood why Jess had referred to Erik as a beach bum. Was Erik Sydney’s type? Why did he care?
A growl built in his throat. He tried to disguise it by clearing his throat, but knew his host wouldn’t be fooled for too long if he didn’t keep his animal urges under control.
“Sydney’s been busy preparing for your arrival.”
“I’m sure she has been. Are all the deadly weapons locked up so she can’t kill me?”
“She doesn’t want to kill you.” Erik’s genuine smile dimmed even more of Richard’s hope that Sydney hadn’t fallen under the man’s spell. With his perfect appearance, manners and money, no other man would be able to compete with him for a woman’s affections. Not even his weird quirk for white would scare off the ladies.
“I believe I know her better than you.” Richard smirked and adjusted his tie. Being polite to the man bedding his ex was more trying than he’d anticipated. Hadn’t he gotten over these feelings years ago?
“I don’t think so.” Erik shook his head. “You may have been intimate with her, but what Sydney and I share goes beyond that.”
Richard clenched his fists so tight they shook at his sides from the effort to keep his hands off his host. He had a job to do here. Whether he liked Erik or not, the man was actually innocent of any wrongdoing. That he was a pervert who hosted kinky parties wasn’t in question, but no one had ever been hurt, and no complaints had ever been lodged against him.
“Down, boy.” Erik flashed him another toothy grin. The urge to break some of those pearly whites was almost overwhelming. “I’m not trying to one up you or anything, but I’ve spent months with Sydney, and I know her inside and out. I know her better than you ever thought you did.”
Richard growled. “Shut up while you’re still breathing.”
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Excerpt: Spaceport- Paralyzer by Marteeka Karland

Spaceport: Paralyzer
by Marteeka Karlandcover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-999-6
Genre(s): Futuristic, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Spaceport
Series: Spaceport Multi-Author
Length: Novella

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Blurb:
Starla, a Paralyzer Mage of the Vastus, has been assigned to be bodyguard to, of all people, a rock star. After an attempt on Tygor Gold's life, she finds herself on Spaceport Adana as, in her mind, a glorified babysitter. What she doesn't realize is she is but a pawn in the greater scheme of things.
Tygor has his own magic and reasons for not joining the Vastus as a Mage. When his magic and Starla's collide, the results are more than even the Vastus could have predicted. Driven by something more than magic, more than chemistry, the two must find a way to exist together…
And to survive.
Excerpt:
Spaceport: ParalyzerMarteeka KarlandAll rights reserved.Copyright ©2008 Marteeka Karland
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.
As she rounded the perimeter of The Haze, the bar on Spaceport Adana the band had played for the last three days, Starla had to push her way through the undulating, screaming crowd. The noise beat into her brain, and bodies pressed against her. For a moment, she lost sight of both Tygor and her next checkpoint.
Making her way through the crowd as she set watchful spells proved more difficult than she’d originally thought, but she made steady progress forward. Once she reached the bar, she ignored the bartender and hopped up to sit on the end of the bar, craning her neck to see around the crowd, looking for possible threats. Why in the damned universe this man chose to put himself out in the open if he was so worried about his own safety was beyond her.
Hiring a woman to protect him? It was an image Starla found hard to buy. He was a man who always seemed to be in control. She shrugged. Oh, well. Who was she to complain? Tygor was the hottest man she’d ever seen. Sometimes she had to shake herself to keep from staring. Sometimes, she almost reached out and touched him.
She sighed as her thoughts turned inward, trying to escape the noise. The mind spells she’d set throughout the crowd would alert her if anything were amiss. This was a mentally exhausting mission and once she confronted Tygor Gold and forced him out of the limelight, things would get worse. She didn’t have any choice. Keeping up with the group’s exhaustive schedule for even two weeks had weakened her mentally and physically, though it galled her to admit it. She needed sleep. She needed to get Darkest Knight off the stage and away from places like Spaceport Adana.
As she contemplated exactly how to accomplish this, her thoughts were interrupted when one of her spells exploded in the crowd, forcing everyone away from the stage. Immediately, Starla jumped to her feet on the bar and launched herself in the general direction of the stage. Her heart was pounding, but her training took over, and she blocked out everything but what her spells and her own senses fed her. Her eyes were firmly fixed on Tygor. Her top priority was to get him out of danger.
She hadn’t yet determined where the threat originated from, but her other spells spoke directly to her mind, being her eyes and ears in all directions.
There. Behind one of the speakers.
Sniper.
That he’d made it so far into the bar alarmed Starla greatly, but she’d have to think about that later. He was aiming at Tygor, using the singer’s confusion to his advantage.
Starla focused on getting to Tygor and taking him down. It was imperative she give the gunman another target. She was confident enough in her own magical shields to make herself that target.
Tygor looked all around him, his stance ready for battle. She vaguely registered this as she hit him in the midsection with her shoulder, effectively taking his place in the sniper’s line of fire.
There was a quiet little zing zing as the porcelain projectiles launched from the gun, and Starla felt like someone had thumped her in the shoulder and back with a mining rod. She lost all feeling in her right arm, rendering her gun hand useless. Whipping her head around, she caught sight of the assailant. Their gazes locked. Got you.
The gunman’s eyes widened a fraction before the full effect of her power struck him. His gun fell from his spasming hands before he went completely and utterly still.
Letting the full effect of her spell take hold of the would-be killer for about thirty seconds, Starla knew the terror she had spawned in the man. She was a Paralyzer. A rare and unique talent even among the Vastus. She could stun her prey for a few seconds, or render them completely immobile. She had control of every muscle in their bodies -- voluntary and involuntary muscles alike. This time, she’d paralyzed the man’s respiratory system, but not his heart. She had never stopped someone’s heart, and hoped she never had to use her gift to such extremes. But when she wanted to make an impression on her prey and show them exactly what she was capable of, this was the best way.
Struggling to her feet, she stumbled to the man, never taking her gaze from him. “You aren’t going to die today. Not yet, anyway. I only want you to understand what I can do. If left in your present state, you would expire. Slow and painful though it would be.” She gave him an evil smile, as if she’d enjoy watching just that. “I have the ability to stop your heart, but I would prefer to bring you to the authorities unharmed. You should know, however, that if you give me any grief whatsoever, I have no qualms about simply killing you and being done with it.” She released her hold on him, allowing the now red-faced man to breathe. “Do we understand each other?”
He collapsed on the floor, nodding twice, breathing hard. Satisfied, Starla motioned to two rapidly approaching security officers to take the man away. She turned back to Tygor, her body starting to feel the effects of the gunshots.
When she did, she slammed into a massive, hard chest and cringed at the pain the jarring caused her.
“Your instructions were not to go after my assailant under any circumstances. Can you not follow even the simplest of orders?” He didn’t sound like a man who was grateful she’d just saved his life.

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Excerpt: Hot River-- Sixty-Nine Sadie by Kate Hill

Hot River: Sixty-nine Sadie
by Kate Hillcover art by Reneé George

ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-045-2

Genre(s): Paranormal

Theme(s): Werewolves, BBW

Series: Hot River

Length: Novella

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Blurb:

Now that Hugo, the nasty werewolf from Triple Shot Tracy, has been imprisoned, all is well at the magic campground -- unless, of course, you’re the wolf himself.
Hugo has been living under a curse. Considering his reputation, it seems to be well deserved. Only a certain type of woman can release him and he has spent ages looking for her. It seems his chance for freedom is over, until Sadie arrives with the power to set him free in every way.
But will his disposition, not to mention his archenemy, Charity the Werewolf Queen, ruin his final chance at happiness?
Excerpt:

Hot River 2: Sixty-Nine SadieKate HillAll rights reserved.Copyright ©2008 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.
The werewolf growled and paced the length of his cell. His blue eyes gleamed against the black fur covering his face. He was a fascinating creature. Standing on two legs, like a man, he had clawed hands and feet and a face that shared the characteristics of man and wolf -- an elongated nose and a mouth filled with sharp white teeth. His long, sleekly muscled, unclothed body was covered in a coarse black animal coat. Yet to Sadie, who stood watching him from a safe distance, he was beautiful.
In the magical world, Sadie was an expert on shapeshifters. Recently she had been contacted by the Princeton family who specialized in supernatural beast control along the area of Hot River outside the Wicked Wild. Hot River ran through the heart of the magical world, cleansing it and providing life. Sadie had spent years on its banks and prided herself in knowing the habits of just about every race of shapeshifter who lived along it.
In spite of this wolf’s particularly dangerous nature, the Princeton brothers had decided not to kill him. They needed her expertise to either cure him or keep him contained. She’d spent the past five years in the Wicked Wild, the best place to study werewolves. No doubt if anyone could help the Princetons with their fanged, hairy problem, Sadie was the one to do it.
The werewolf stopped pacing and grasped the bars of the cell. He stared at her, his growls softening, and ran his tongue over his dark lips. Sadie’s stomach tightened. She longed to move closer, to touch him, feel the hard muscles rippling beneath his animal coat, but at the moment he was far too dangerous. No doubt in his current state he would tear anyone who approached to shreds. She needed time to work with him, to help him harness his power and temper it.
Behind her, she heard the scuffle of boots on the stone floor in the dungeon where the beast was caged. She had almost forgotten the Princeton triplets -- Tripp, Oakes and Jeb -- stood behind her.
“Can you help him?” Oakes asked.
Sadie drew a deep breath and released it slowly, then turned and faced the identical blue-eyed, black-haired triplets. They were great hunters of primitive supernatural beasts, but when it came to rehabilitation of higher creatures, such as shapeshifters, they were sorely lacking in skills. Yet their concern for this werewolf seemed genuine.
“Possibly,” she said. “His kind can be difficult to deal with, but I haven’t seen one this cranky in years. Other than the female pack in the Wicked Wild, of course, but they have much more control over their powers. Still that’s not surprising. Females handle the curse much better than males.”
The triplets exchanged glances and Jeb said, “Maybe the females are so ornery because he’s responsible for the state they’re in.”
Sadie’s eyes widened and she jerked her thumb in the direction of the cage. “This is Hugo?”
“You know him?” Tripp asked.
“Who doesn’t?” she snorted. “He has the worst reputation in the werewolf community. This changes everything.” She turned back to the cage, her heart pounding with the excitement of a good challenge.
“Changes what?” Tripp demanded. “Does that mean you won’t help us?”
“On the contrary, it has sealed the deal. I want him. If I can help one like him, that means my training has been worthwhile. I’ll have to move him to my place.”


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