Gingersnaps: Summoning by Leila Brown

Gingersnaps: Summoning
by Leila Brown

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-121-3
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes, BDSM
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Christmas, Seasonal Themes
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1042

Blurb:

Johnathan Brandon has spent every Winter Solstice alone. And each year his crazy college roommate sends him a Christmas present. This year said present comes with a set of instructions. It’s a mini figurine of a bare-chested Santa. To activate the tiny Santa he needs to make a wish at the first strike of midnight on Winter Solstice. At the last strike of midnight, Johnathan blinks and finds himself on the floor in front of a life-sized version of the statue. Bare chest, tented red velvet pants and all.

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.

Johnathan Brandon opened the yellow and red, garishly-decorated small box and read the return address. Mark Towlly, his old roommate. Mark never seemed to remember that Johnathan didn’t celebrate Christmas, he celebrated Solstice. They’d shared a room at Indiana State University for five years, and it was a crazy time. That was back when Johnathan had finally stopped fighting his attraction to men. It was also when he had learned that bad sex didn’t mean just sex with women. Sex with men could be just as bad and just as meaningless as sex with women. Mark was a great friend. A man not afraid of his sexuality.
And every year since graduation he’d received a box exactly like this tiny one. He’d call Mark tomorrow, thank him for the gift and remind him about the differences between their religions. Then he’d relegate the gift, whatever it was, to the back of his closet. Not that any of that mattered at the moment. At this point in time, all he wanted was to savor this moment. He loved to open the boxes -- the unknown excited him.
Johnathan ripped open the small box, careful not to damage whatever lay inside. It was a small Santa figurine. A Santa naked from the waist up. Actually, it looked more like a hard-bodied stripper than some jolly old potbellied man. The little figure fit inside the palm of his hand. He sat it down on the small table in front of him, then turned the box upside down.
A small piece of paper fell to the floor. Johnathan bent down and picked up the tiny scrap of paper. “Follow the instructions, make a naughty wish, and enjoy the holidays. Love, Mark.”
Instructions? He didn’t see any instructions. He turned the small piece of paper over and noticed some extremely small print.
Set the statuette on a table or a secure surface. At exactly midnight ask Nickolas for whatever you desire. You only get one wish so make it a good one. The makers of Wishful Fantasies cannot be held responsible for any death, destruction, or dismemberment that may occur from use of this product. Notice: Only one wish per Solstice.
Johnathan shook his head. Where the hell had Mark found this? Make a naughty wish, huh? He should make a wish. Then when he called Mark to thank him he wouldn’t have to lie.

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Gingersnaps: Sophie's Present by Anne Kane

Gingersnaps: Sophie's Present
by Anne Kane

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-107-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, Daemonum, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1041

Blurb:

As one of Santa’s elves, Dandy’s job is to make sure no one is forgotten at Christmas. So he made his list and checked it twice. He found Sophie at the top of his list of forgotten do-gooders, and when he checked her out he knew just what to do to make her Christmas the merriest ever.

When Santa made his rounds Christmas Eve, he dropped off a fantastic hunk at Sophie’s house, gift-wrapped for the occasion. Nickolie is a sex demon, and once she gets over the shock, Sophie has a wonderful time unwrapping her present and making sure it gets a good workout before it expires on Boxing Day.




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.

Thump!

A loud noise dragged Sophie from her nap and she looked around with sleep-befuddled eyes. Mr. Whiskers sat on the top of the wicker hamper, ignoring her as he carefully groomed the fur on one sleek forepaw. She relaxed. The cat had probably knocked something off the counter. He wasn’t the most graceful animal. In fact, she’d never imagined a cat could be quite as clumsy as Mr. Whiskers.
She glanced over at the clock. Five past midnight. The bath water had cooled while she slept, and she shivered as she stood to reach for the fluffy towel hanging above the radiator. Wrapping herself in its welcoming warmth, she wandered into the bedroom and donned a pair of flannel pajamas. She rummaged quietly in the closet to locate Mr. Whiskers’ Christmas present. She knew it was silly, but every year she wrapped a present for her cat from Santa and put it under the tree. She tiptoed back to the front room to place the present under the tree. A gaily wrapped box already took up a good portion of the space under the little tree. Where had that come from? She picked it up to read the label.

Merry Christmas -- to Sophie from Santa. You’ve been a very nice girl this year.

There must be some mistake. She glanced around the room. She might be getting a little addled, living with only a cat for company, but she knew Santa didn’t really exist. Even if he did, she thought logically, he didn’t leave presents under her Christmas tree. A muffled sound drew her attention back to the present. She noticed tiny holes in the sides of the box. They looked like the air holes you’d punch out if you put a puppy in a box. Or a kitten. Intrigued, she put the box down on the table and glanced superstitiously at the clock. Ten past midnight. Good. Not that she believed in Santa, but you didn’t open his presents until Christmas Day. That was a rule, a very important one.

She glanced around one more time. Nope. No one at all in the room with her. She pulled the edge of the gold and silver ribbon, sliding it off the box. Carefully, just in case there really was a puppy in there, she lifted the flaps of the box and looked inside.

A dust bunny.

Big dark eyes stared up at her out of a mound of fluffy blue fur, looking for all the world like a psychedelic dust bunny. The creature made a tiny chirping noise and blinked.

Sophie reached in and pulled the little fluff ball out of the box, cuddling it against her chest. What is it? A small sheet of paper at the bottom of the box caught her attention and she pulled it out to read.

Congratulations on your new acquisition. His name is Nikolie. Please welcome him into your home and he will reward you with love beyond your wildest dreams.

She looked from the dust bunny to the note. Someone had a weird sense of humor. She placed the fuzzy blue creature back in the box, then added a plastic container of water in case it was thirsty.

She still wasn’t sure how the box had managed to get under her tree. Nervously, she made the rounds of her small home, checking each window and door to make sure the locks were secure. The only person with a house key was Mrs. Winters, the elderly lady who lived next door. She sometimes took deliveries for Sophie when she was out. Relief flooded her. Of course. The present had probably come when Sophie was at the homeless mission, and Mrs. Winters had thoughtfully put it under the tree.

Relieved at having solved the mystery, Sophie took one last peek at the little creature. Figuring out what to feed a little dust bunny would have to wait until morning. “Welcome to my home, Nikolie. We’ll get better acquainted in the morning, but right now, I’m going back to bed.” She closed the lid to keep Mr. Whiskers from snacking on her present and went back to her bedroom. Climbing into bed, she pulled the covers up snugly under her chin.




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Gingersnap: Serendipity 7C by Lexxie Couper

Gingersnaps: Serendipity 7C
by Lexxie Couper

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-557-8
Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Christmas, Seasonal Themes
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1040

Blurb:

One lost Australian tourist. One mischievous Christmas sprite. One magical apartment complex. One Christmas gift to be remembered for a lifetime.
Welcome to Serendipity Estates, where accidental meetings, a little magic, and a bit of hot lust are a recipe for love ever after. We hope you enjoy your stay.


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.

Chilled to the bone, weary, dry-eyed and craving a beer more than ever, Jack McKenzie knocked on his cousin’s door.
The door swung open and a tall, willowy redhead regarded him with laughing grey eyes. A tall, willowy redhead with laughing grey eyes, long, long legs encased in worn black denim, and the fullest, softest lips Jack had ever seen. “Yes?”
He frowned, even as his body said Heeello. The redhead wasn’t Bruce. Bruce had never looked this good. “Um.” He bit back a muttered curse. Bloody brilliant conversation starter that is, Jack.
The redhead smiled, interest flickering in her smoky eyes. She tilted her head to the side a little and placed her hand against the doorjamb, unwittingly drawing Jack’s attention to the small, round perfection of her breasts snugged behind a pure white T-shirt. “Can I help you?”
“Um,” Jack began, and again mentally cringed at his inarticulate clumsiness. What was going on with him? Jet lag? Or had Tiffany sucked from him his ability to talk to a beautiful woman? She didn’t want him anymore, but she sure as hell didn’t want him to find anyone else? Okay, now you’re being paranoid.
He gave the redhead a slightly puzzled smile. “Is Bruce home?”
One finely arched auburn eyebrow cocked. “Bruce?”
Jack hitched his backpack higher onto his shoulder, trying not to shiver. The hallway was chilly, the snowstorm outside permeating Serendipity Estates’ internal structure, and his only jacket was most likely somewhere between Australia and Who-Knows-Where. “Bruce McKenzie.” He paused, waiting for the entirely too gorgeous woman to acknowledge his cousin’s name.
She didn’t.
“The bloke that lives here.” The statement sounded like a question, and Jack’s gut began to tighten. Why did this feel wrong?
“There’s no Bruce McKenzie here,” the woman replied, the sides of her mouth playing with a grin.
Jack shot the door another look. The silver 7 and the silver C hadn’t changed. This was the right address. So where was Bruce?
“Can I help you?” The husky murmur lifted Jack’s attention from his cousin’s less than flowery penmanship to the woman still standing in the door of apartment 7C. She was studying him with an unreadable expression. “You’re Australian, yes?”
Jack nodded. “Yes. And so’s my cousin who told me he lived here.” He shoved the small slip of paper back into his pocket. “Do you know of any Bruce McKenzie living around here? Maybe he just wrote the apartment number wrong.”
The woman shook her head, her long auburn hair tumbling over her straight shoulders in a glossy cascade that made Jack’s stomach and groin grow tight. “I don’t, I’m afraid. I’ve lived in Serendipity Estates since they were built. Trust me, your cousin has never lived in 7C.”
Jack suppressed a sigh. “Damn it.”
No luggage, no jacket and now no cousin. Which meant no shower, no toast, no beer and no bed. All with a bloody snowstorm cold enough to freeze the tits off a bull wreaking havoc outside. When he found Bruce, if he found Bruce, he was going to kill him. That was, if he didn’t freeze to death in the interim trying to hail a taxi. What a fantastic Christmas this was going to be.
Jack hitched his backpack further up his shoulder and gave the woman -- damn, she was gorgeous -- a wry, lopsided smile. “Well, I’m sorry to be a nuisance.” He took a step away from the door. “Have a nice --”
“Do you want to come in?”
The question stopped Jack dead in his tracks.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1040

Left Side of the Moon by Sophia Titheniel

Dance Wars 1: Left Side of the Moon
by Sophia Titheniel

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-148-0
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal
Theme(s): Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Dance Wars
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1052

Blurb:

The Pony Express Rides Again… On a motorbike.

Lachlan enjoys living on the edge, and in a war-torn land rife with savagery, life as a Pony Express Rider puts good cash in his pockets and, on occasion, a roof over his head. Any roof will do. Doesn’t have to be his.

Until his path clashes with Adair’s. At the Chlodwig, a ramshackle pub renown for its dance fights and high stakes betting, Lachlan and Adair’s heated argument turns into something far more raw and powerful -- something neither of them is prepared for. Something Lachlan’s not sure he can recover from. This time, he’s met his match.

But beyond the cover of the dance fights, Adair belongs to a group of scavengers, thieves who make Pony Express Riders their intended targets. Is Lachlan prepared to risk his loyalty, his job, and everything he thinks he’s earned -- for a werewolf?

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 barroom’s nothing short of dismal inside, dirty and dank, but there’s a fire crackling beneath a wide, finely carved marble fireplace. Lachlan wonders where it came from. Maybe the Pentagon? It was rumored to be on this side of town.
His skin tingles at the abrupt but welcome change in temperature. The few people scattered about are playing rounds of cards or nursing their own drinks, each of them indifferent to the new arrival, and that suits Lachlan just fine. He takes off his jacket, throwing it on an empty stool in front of the bar, and raps the wooden surface with his knuckles. “D’ya have any JD?”
The barman, a carbon copy of every other barman Lachlan’s met on his roaming around the country, looks at him from underneath a bushy eyebrow and plucks the cigar out of his mouth to speak. “Money up front.”
Lachlan slips a hand underneath his jacket, plucks two bills out of the elastic band that keeps his savings together and hands them to the barman. The man eyes him up and down with a slight sneer, then limps off and disappears behind a curtain half-hidden by darkness and dust.
Must be where he keeps his stock. Lachlan twiddles his fingers and huffs out a sigh. He’d swear he can hear his frozen, tired limbs purring with contentedness at the newfound warmth. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s at the pit of the known world and to stay safe he needs to keep moving, he’d curl up and sleep for twelve hours straight.
“Downstairs.”
The barman reappears to deliver that message, popping up practically out of thin air. The unexpected swift movement makes the hair at the back of Lachlan’s neck stand up in discomfort. He nods and grabs the brass token the man’s handed to him, picking up his jacket and walking in the direction the bartender indicates.
The rickety staircase, illuminated only by naked light bulbs set around the railings, looks dangerous, so Lachlan’s cautious as he descends. As he approaches the bottom of the stairs, he hears the faint thump, thump, thump of music filtering from the latched door. He pulls at the hook screwed in the center that serves as a knob, and blanches at the deafening volume he’s met with the second the door opens.
He sets off, eyes peeled, his fingers curled around the handle of his knife. A guy can never be too careful. Pubs and clubs in the cities are a bit of a sanctuary for all those creatures who couldn’t disguise themselves in the “human” world. The clientele in the basement, though, looks exactly the same as the one you would see in any regular bar in the country, and for an instant Lachlan feels a bit let down. With a setup like that, he was at least expecting a couple of vampires.
A woman with a red corset saunters over, draping herself over his back. Lachlan goes rigid, his hand tightening around his knife. “Not interested,” he says calmly, the pocket where he’s hidden his money burning.
“You here for the fights, sugar?”
The fights? “That’s right.” He grabs her wandering hand and pushes her away, none too gently. “And I’m not interested.”
The music’s even louder now that he’s fully in the room. An opening lies before him, between the tables, right in front of the bar. People are pushing at each other for the best viewing spots, some of them exchanging money and talking excitedly among themselves. Lachlan frowns, the brass coin heavy in his palm. For fuck’s sake, he just wants a bottle of whiskey already.
Instead of making a fuss about it, he takes a seat in front of the bar, craning his neck to try and locate the person he has to hand the coin to. The sooner he leaves, the better. If he makes good time, the Dulles station is twenty-five miles west, and a good night of sleep sounds just about fantastic right now.
The barman walks up to him, taking a dour glance at Lachlan’s coin. Either he’s an identical twin of the barman upstairs, or he’s a clone, or maybe all barmen look the same -- Lachlan doesn’t care. It’s even warmer here. A slight sweat’s starting to bead on the nape of his neck, and his long hair is sticking to his skin. He rubs his hand over his neck as if to displace an irksome fly. Turning to toss the hair off his shoulder, he stops abruptly when he finds himself looking across the bar into the brightest gray eyes he’s ever seen. They look like molten silver, like shards of moonlight around large, black pupils.
Lachlan blinks and leans across the bar for a better look. The guy’s still staring, unmoving, as if he’s waiting for something or someone, and Lachlan fights the urge to turn his head and see if he’s looking at anyone else beside him.
“Here,” the barman grunts, the bottle landing in front of Lachlan with a heavy thunk. Lachlan feels like crying in relief. He grabs at the neck of the bottle and tips it back, taking a long, blissfully scorching hot sip. It burns in his throat and in his empty stomach, but he doesn’t mind. Limbs that he hadn’t quite thought were still connected to his body waken, making him feel more alive than he’s been in quite a few hours. Bless you, whiskey.
He fills his flask, finishing in a single gulp the glassful left over, and, handing the empty bottle back to the barman, decides it’s time to head back out on the road. If nothing happens, he’ll manage to be at the station in less than an hour.
“Want to take a chance there?”
Lachlan looks down at a bucketful of dollar bills held by some clown who’s up in his face and frowns. “Take a chance on what?”
“Leave it, Riff.”
A shiver runs down Lachlan’s back. He knows who the voice belongs to even before he raises his eyes to meet the man’s compelling, liquid gray ones. “He’s one of them bikers,” the man says like it’s an insult.

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Wildhearts by Ann Vremont

Wildhearts
by Ann Vremont

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-838-8
Genre(s): Futuristic, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Shunga
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1053

Blurb:

Shaped by his creator in the form of the ancient god Cernunnos, Herne knew only the cold metal of a cage and the sharp blades of his master until he escaped into Tahoma’s forest. Now, as the first winter storm of the season gathers, a hunter has entered his woods, bringing a bound and blindfolded woman as game.

Until tonight, Neva had survived as a healer in a gospel town where the monsters walk on two legs and the women do as they are told. “The Girl Who Said No,” she finds herself at the mercy of a jilted suitor and his brutish friends, with the woods her only chance of escape.

Welcome to the future. Seattle lies in fog-shrouded ruins. Fantasy has become reality. Science is the new magic. The year is 2270, and it's time to meet the real beauty and the beast.

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 roads into the Tahoma foothills were gutted. It had been decades since they had been paved and each year heavy rains and snow melt carried more of the asphalt away.
Tied in the back of a sputtering pickup truck, a burlap sack over her head, Neva Andrews couldn’t see the pitted road, but every inch of her backside felt it. She focused on each sharp jolt and let the rude caress of worn-out shocks over rough ground distract her from Mathew Paylin’s clumsy fondling.
“Finest looking ass in town, Nev.” He tried to keep his heavy hand shoved between her thighs, his thick fingers working to push her panties to one side. Each bump in the road sent his hand bouncing up and the game started all over again.
She shivered -- not from the clumsy groping or the sure knowledge the men were taking her up the mountain to kill her. She shivered because she was cold. It was mid-December and the air was thick with the promise of the season’s first big snowstorm.
Mathew moved so that his body molded flat against hers. His fingers dug into her hip and his weight pressed her down hard against the washboard metal of the truck bed. Her hands were bound behind her and pain spiked from wrist to shoulder as Mathew leaned in to taunt, “You brought this on yourself.”
Mathew rubbed against Neva, his movements forcing the thin cotton dress up over her thighs. Cold air bit at her skin and her teeth started chattering. His hands slid up under her dress, tugged her breasts free from her bra and squeezed roughly at them. She could hear and feel him breathing faster, the steamed air filtering through the sack and becoming trapped.
“Don’t see why you gotta die cold.” Dragging his knuckles over her lower belly, he tugged at her underwear.
Something sharp rapped against the glass -- Daniel or Josiah’s fist she guessed, or maybe a near empty flask of moonshine. Mathew pulled away, leaving her exposed and shaking. She felt him scoot to one side, the truck shifting under his weight. His hand touched her breast, drawing back again at the sound of another sharp knock.
“Fucking Josiah!”
The windows were up on the cab, no talk or music escaping from the front. But Mathew swore quietly just the same -- all six feet, four inches and three hundred plus pounds of him. No one crossed Josiah, not even a mountain of a man like Mathew.
But she had crossed Josiah. And now he was going to kill her for it.
The truck slammed to a stop, propelling the top of her head against the back wall of the bed. Doors opened, slammed and she heard Josiah yell. “Get that bitch outta my truck!”
The gate went down. Someone grabbed her by the ankles and pulled sharply. She landed on her bound hands and pain twisted through her arms and wrists. Her head struck the frozen ground a second later, nausea and pain mixing in her skull. She swallowed a scream, wouldn’t give the men that, would bite off her tongue and choke on the blood before she gave them anything.
One of the men dragged her by the ankles to the front of the truck. The heat had already faded from the engine but the headlights cut through the burlap’s loose weave. There was the shriek of fabric as what was left of her dress, bra and panties was torn from her body. Rolling her onto her stomach, they stripped her crude sandals from her feet. Hands grabbed the rope around her wrists and hauled her onto her knees.
That’s how Josiah liked his women, on their knees praying while the men stood.
Boots crunched on the frozen ground as someone circled her and then the sack was torn from her head. Twilight filtered through the trees. She glared at the three men. Mathew, the youngest, stood with the sack in his hand and his dick hard against his jeans. He glanced away, too cowardly to look at her now that she could look back. Daniel, his brother, was just as aroused but his last hit of X glazed his eyes and made his feet unsteady.
Then there was Josiah, a man colder than the ground that dug at her knees or the December air scraping at her lungs. She swallowed another wave of nausea, knowing his arousal would come only at the cost of her tears and blood.
Buckets of both.
Neva dropped her head, waited, naked, for the ground to open up and take her whole.
“Get my bow.” Josiah waited a heartbeat, long enough for her to imagine the arrow-fast rip of steel through her flesh, and then he shoved Mathew toward the truck. “Get my goddamn bow!”
Mathew moved like a petulant child, his steps heavy and dragging. He grabbed the bow’s case from behind the bench seat and slid it along the ground. “I thought we was gonna fuck her.”
Josiah knelt, almost even with her, as he opened the case. Steam left him in a thin stream. His breathing slowed with a hunter’s reverence as he wrapped his hands around the weapon. Standing, he notched an arrow and gestured at Mathew to get Neva on her feet.
“Maybe after.” He motioned Mathew to move away, and then he sighted down the length of the arrow’s shaft. “But we’re gonna let her run first.”

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1053

Last Call: Virgin Daiquiri by Moira Rogers

Last Call: Virgin Daiquiri
by Moira Rogers

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

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

Blurb:

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

Virgin Daiquiri: Looking for a first lover.

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

Excerpt:

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

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

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At Drogan's Command by Selena Illyria

At Drogan’s Command
by Selena Illyria

Cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-058-2
Genre(s): Sci-Fi, BDSM
Theme(s): Interracial
Series: Hades' Helmet Crew
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1034

Blurb:

One little disc...

One little disc contains the only evidence of Rena's wanton weekend where she enacted every sexual fantasies she's ever had, including a few about her crush Drogan Carter, Captain of the Hades' Helmet. What will she do when the disc falls into the wrong hands?

When Drogan finds the disc and watches the contents, at first he feels guilt but soon that turns to need. He wants the carefree, sexual woman on the disc in his bed. He forms a plan that will get her right where he wants her… at his command.

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 captain came toward her, his expression softened. “Please don’t make me interrogate you. Please don’t push me to do this,” he pleaded in a deep baritone, edged with gruffness.
She shook her head. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. Every nerve in her body was alive and on fire.
“Release her. I’ll be questioning her alone.”
The other robots let her go and left the cell. The door slid closed with a soft whoosh. The captain started to undress, unbuckling his weapons belt. He placed the strap gently on a nearby table. He then stripped to the waist. He grabbed a chair and placed it before her and pointed to it.
“Undress and sit down,” he ordered in a deep gruff baritone. With shaking hands she began to undress, her clothing hitting the floor. She moved to the chair, sat down and crossed her legs. The robot walked around her slowly, then bent down and placed his hands on the back of her chair, leaning in close.
“If you won’t cooperate, I will have to make you do what I say.” His voice was a low, husky whisper. “Now, uncross your legs and spread them. I want to see your sweet pussy. I can smell your desire. I know you want this, you want me. You can’t deny it.”
She uncrossed her legs slowly and then spread them, waiting for his next command. He pulled back. The tips of his fingers brushed her cheeks before he straightened to his full height.
He finished undressing. His thick cock sprang up, the head an angry purplish red color. She missed seeing the pearlescent drop of desire at the slit. Although his cock looked lifelike enough, she wanted the real thing. She gave herself a mental shake, imagining it was Drogan before her and not an android programmed for her pleasure. This was her fantasy, the only way she would ever make her secret dreams and desires come true. Taking a deep breath, she watched as the android walked over to one of the cell’s windows, ripping down one of the curtains that framed the barred façade.
He walked over to her, the delicate shredded opaque cloth trailing behind him, his cock bobbing gently with each step. He walked around her to the back of the chair.
“Bring your hands together until your palms are touching.”
Her heartbeat sped up, hammering against her rib cage as he wrapped the ripped curtain around her wrists, tying them together tightly. She tested her bonds and found she couldn’t get free. He walked into her line of vision. His cock appeared before her face. She blinked, remembering her other fantasies that had been played out. Three men at once, two men in several different positions. She shivered. He came closer until his cock was only mere inches away from her face.
Her mind conjured Drogan before her. If he had been in front of her, she would have kissed the tip of his shaft before she took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the crest. She wanted to taste him, inhale the musky male scent of him. The man before her dropped to his knees. She looked down and watched as he placed his hands on each of her knees, spreading them further apart. Her heart beat out of control. Rena forgot how to breathe. Sweat beaded on her brow as the android between her thighs moved closer to her pussy. Time seemed to still as she waited for his first touch. A jolt of electricity went through her as the tip of his tongue trailed over the seam of her nether lips. She jumped but did not make a sound. He teased her slowly, taking his time as he explored her sex. With his thumbs he pulled back her nether lips, exposing the aching bud. She stilled, waiting for his next move.
“You want this, don’t you? You want me to suck your clit?”
“Yes.” She didn’t care that her voice had come out shaky and breathless.
He gently flicked the nub with just the tip of his tongue. Heat skittered through her body with that all too brief touch.
“Tell me what I need to know and I’ll give you what you need.”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know. Please, just fuck me,” she pleaded.
He flicked her clit again and pulled back. “No.”
“Drogan, please fuck me.” She didn’t even realize her slip until it was too late. She was going off script. She had never specified who the captain was supposed to be. She couldn’t take it back now, wouldn’t take it back. All day long on the ship she saw him and when she closed her eyes, she saw him in her dreams. This was her time to finally live out the fantasies she could never have with him in reality.
She looked down at the android that moved his head back to her pussy.
“No,” flick, “not until you,” lave, “tell me,” lick, “what I want,” swipe, “to hear.”
She let out a frustrated growl, trying to move her hips forward as far as they would go. He pulled his head back and looked up at her.
“Tell me what I want to hear and I’ll fuck you,” he urged.
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you anything. I don’t know.”
“Well, then the interrogation must continue.” He smiled at her. His head moved forward. His tongue continued the small torturous flicks. Electricity bounced around inside of her, each touch stoking the fire burning within her. She wanted to come so badly. She was unraveling, her empty cunt clenched on nothing. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, trying to figure out a way to use his flicks to her advantage. Unfortunately her hands were tied behind her, and she could only lift them so far. She let out a strangled scream and the flicking stopped.
“Will you tell me the truth?” he asked. His dark red eyes seemed darker and a wicked smile curved his full mouth.
“I’ll tell you anything, anything. Just fuck me.”
He chuckled, a dark sound that spoke of untold hidden, wicked, sexy things that awaited her for cooperating. Without saying another word, he buried his head between her thighs, taking her clit between his teeth and sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth. She rocked her hips against his mouth, riding his lips. Her orgasm twisted inside of her, coiling tighter and tighter until it broke free like a dam bursting. She screamed Drogan’s name at the top of her lungs.
But it wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
All night the android interrogated her, using his mouth, fingers and cock, bringing her to orgasm over and over again. By morning she was exhausted and confessed to things she had never done all in the name of coming. When she walked out of her fantasy suite, her legs wobbled and her body ached. She made her way to the front desk, waiting for them to check her out.
“I hope you enjoyed your time here. Please do come back any time, Ms. Morrigan.”
She nodded and smiled but doubted she would be coming back. She had lived out every one of her fantasies. There was nothing more to do. The receptionist looked up at Rena. The alien smiled, exposing short, sharp teeth, gazing up at Rena with large blue, pupilless eyes. She slid a small silver disc toward Rena.
“This is the account of your week with us. Payment has gone through. We assure you that we will be erasing your experience with us within twenty-four hours. Please do come back.”

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Gingersnaps: Cupid by Sierra Dafoe

Gingersnaps: Cupid
by Sierra Dafoe

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

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

Blurb:

Cold and heartless, thoughtless boy

Who’s never felt that which you destroy…

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

Excerpt:

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

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

Gingersnaps: Another Chance by L. Shannon

Gingersnaps: Another Chance
by L. Shannon

cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-143-5
Genre(s): Daemonum, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1038

Blurb:

Worlds apart…
It’s stupid to want to spend Christmas with a demon, right? Even if he is your lover. Trouble is, Josh is an incurable romantic -- at least when it comes to this particular demon. All Josh wants for Christmas is another chance…

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 moment he touched Josh’s mind, Chance knew he was in trouble. The lingering, sexy, teasing bend of his lover’s thoughts offered no details besides the not so surprising news that Josh wasn’t at home.
Of course he wasn’t. Chance was standing in Josh’s empty condo.
Hello, my demon lover…
Where are you? Why are you not here, waiting for me?
It’s been ten months since we met. This will be our first Christmas together. I wanted it to be special.
I’m sure it will be. He’d been looking forward to this visit for a while now, since their last date almost three weeks ago. The thought of holding Josh and quenching some of his fire in his lover’s passion kept him going.
The image of Josh stretched out naked on a bed tickled through his mind. Well, hurry up and get here. The directions to the cabin are on the fridge.
Sure enough, there were directions. Not that he needed anything as mundane as street directions to find his lover. Oh no, simply touching Josh’s mind was enough to get him there.
I’m on my way. Rather than go to the effort of moving through mortal space, he dipped back into Abaddon and took a shortcut, arriving on the small porch of a rustic cabin a few seconds later.
The door opened at once. Josh dragged him into a scorching embrace and even hotter kiss. Josh wasn’t naked but only a burgundy-colored robe interfered with the earlier image branded on Chance’s mind.
For a moment Chance was too overwhelmed to react. Then he caught up with reality and accepted the kiss and the welcome that was more than he’d ever have hoped for. He pushed Josh back, fully into the cabin, slamming the door behind them.
Holding Josh wasn’t enough. Kissing him wasn’t… Touching him…
He needed more, so much more. He shoved the robe off Josh’s shoulders, letting the material fall. Only then did he leave Josh’s lips to trail fiery kisses across to his ear.
Desire flared, not only to kiss and fuck but for something more. He needed to mark Josh, to show the world who he belonged to. For the first time in his life, he envied his cousins who had fangs enough to bite. He scraped his boring teeth over Josh’s neck. Fangs or no, his fire did what he needed so badly. His nibbles left dark scorch marks trailing down Josh’s skin.
Growling happily at the marks, he couldn’t help but return there over and over again. Josh was his now, his for as long as he wanted. Mine.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1038

Gingersnaps: Christmas Knight by Alecia Monaco

Gingersnaps: Christmas Knight
by Alecia Monaco

cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-614-8
Genre(s): Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, BBW, Christmas, Seasonal Themes
Series: Gingersnaps
Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1037

Blurb:

It’s Christmas Eve, and a blizzard has struck the war-torn land of Amberlyn. Nox Blackthorne, a noble knight, wounded in battle against the repressive forces of the new regime, seeks refuge at the only light in the storm: a solitary cottage set on a snow-covered hill.
Marisol St. Claire is a witch, an expert in the ways of sexual healing now outlawed by the new regime. While she’s willing to shelter the wounded knight and share her Christmas Eve with him, she’s reluctant to heal him for fear of being reported and imprisoned. But soon, more than a need to heal overcomes them both…

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.

“Come on, Rudolphus,” Nox Blackthorne urged his horse. “Another mile or so, and we’ll be in safer territory.”
The horse wouldn’t budge. Proof, Nox mused, that the steed had better sense than the rider.
It was no small wonder that Rudolphus refused to move another inch. They’d endured a close skirmish with King Edouard’s forces earlier -- Nox almost spat at even thinking of that scurvy illegitimate cur as the king -- leaving both horse and rider with injuries. A lance had grazed the black steed’s flank, only to make a detour and pierce the knight’s war-torn armor. Nox had his own suspicions about how a lance managed to pierce chainmail, none of which flattered the king.
With a groan of pain, he clutched his side, wincing. When he pulled his hand away, it was covered with a sticky reddish-black liquid.
He was losing blood, rapidly.
Not that he regretted his service to King Reginald, the true king. Ever since Reginald’s half-brother Edouard had overthrown the old monarchy, the land of Amberlyn had been caught in the throes of a civil war so violent and bloody, it dwarfed every conflict of the past ten centuries. Edouard had instituted a new regime with laws banning magic and wizardry, draining the life’s blood of Amberlyn with one stroke of his quill. Now there were no healers, save a few clumsy apothecaries. Midwifery had become a crime, and it had become illegal to practice alchemy or any of the old arts.
Humans were dying like the proverbial flies.
And things were worse for non-humans. The elves, dwarves, and pixie folk who’d coexisted peacefully with their human neighbors were now all but outlaws. Such restrictions had been placed on them that they could hardly leave their homes.
It was a travesty, Nox thought for the thousandth time. Ending Edouard’s reign of terror was worth enduring an injury, a dozen injuries.
It was worth his life.
But it was Christmas Eve, and even the most loyal servant of the true king couldn’t help but long for the comforts of home -- a warm hearth with a crackling fire, the scent of evergreen boughs decking the room, the cozy glow of candles in the window, and a hot meal to share with a beautiful woman.
A dream, Nox thought with a rueful sigh, which had about as much to do with his present circumstances as all of the king’s stolen gold. He’d be lucky to find any sort of shelter for himself and his horse on such a night. The December wind bit at his exposed face, and the beginnings of what promised to be an avalanche of a snowstorm had begun to drift to the ground.
“Merry Christmas, Rudolphus.” The knight shook his head. “May we be so lucky as to find a cave before the storm strikes.”
The horse, seeming to understand, began to trot wearily up the hill.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1037

Demon's Bargain by Amanda Steiger

Demon's Bargain
by Amanda Steiger

cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-111-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Daemonum
Theme(s): Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, The Dark Side
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1048

Blurb:

Ella is desperate. A vicious dragon stalks her people, killing and devouring. The only man strong enough to defeat it is Vaz, the half-demon outcast -- banished long ago for his tainted blood.
Ella has always been told that demons are cruel and dangerous, but she swallows her fear, journeys alone to Vaz’s castle, and asks him to save her people. He agrees on one condition: that she spends a night in his bed.
The demon’s huge, powerful form and penetrating ruby eyes send tremors of unexpected desire through Ella’s body. Despite her trepidation, she agrees to his bargain, and soon learns just how potent a demon’s touch can be.




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.

A human approached his castle from the east. Vaz felt the light of its soul, a small, fragile spark in the darkness. Opening his eyes, he rose from his chair. A fire crackled in the hearth, but did little to illuminate the vast, stone hall. Neither the dark nor the cold bothered him. He was accustomed to both.
It had been some time since he’d seen another person. Most humans feared him and gave his castle a wide berth. Who was this lone traveler approaching his home?
Vaz reached out with his mind. His thoughts swept outward, like a vast web of invisible tendrils, touching everything within a mile of his castle. He felt the mind of a sea-hawk as it wheeled over the foamy, gray water, its keen eyes searching for the silver flash of a fish. Looking through the hawk’s eyes, he scanned the shore.
There.
Vaz saw a small, human form, walking near the water’s edge, head bent against the wind. Young and female. He sampled her mind as his consciousness flowed into her, tasting fear and determination. Vaz felt the chill of wet clothes against her skin, the hunger gnawing her belly, the ache of fatigue in her muscles. He looked through her eyes and saw his own castle, dark against the gray sky.
Vaz withdrew back into his own mind and stood, thinking.
For nearly twenty years, he had lived here alone, feeling nothing save the old ache of bitterness and the empty indifference growing like a cancer in his soul. Now, he felt a rare flicker of curiosity, like a tiny candle flame in the dark catacombs of his heart.
Who was she, this girl?

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Dragon's Song: The Dragon's Queen by Cameo Brown

Dragon's Song: The Dragon's Queen
by Cameo Brown

cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-088-9
Genre(s): Fantasy
Theme(s): Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: Dragon's Song
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1049

Blurb:

Emerson, who edits dragon fantasy when she’s not looking for the perfect mate in New York City, wants a man who can dominate her and fulfill her every fantasy. Unfortunately, that man is a dragon who wants nothing more than to complete his mission and leave the godforsaken city in the future where it belongs.
Mojogan, a warrior dragon, comes through the time portal intent on not letting anything, or anyone, stand in the way of finding his lost niece. He doesn’t expect to find a sexy human woman who craves domination and responds so eagerly to his demands, and he certainly doesn’t expect to yearn for her submission.
He’s determined to keep the dragon secret safe, and she’s determined to protect her heart. Only when they give in to their passion will they discover the key to fulfilling the prophecy that will ultimately decide the fate of the Dragon Kind.

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.

Her essence invaded his soul the moment he passed through the portal, and he fell to his knees. The need to mate overwhelmed his instincts. His cock throbbed, the pulse of life lifting it against the hot flesh of his stomach.
Mojogan crawled away from the red and gold banner bouncing against the window of the Chinese food-serving place, barely conscious of his urban surroundings. All he knew was he hated the city, any city, whether from his time or this one. He didn’t want to die here. He didn’t even want to be here, but duty called.
He neared madness. Mojogan collapsed on the hard concrete and stroked himself, seeking relief from the desperate need to come. Something more powerful than he’d ever faced assaulted his senses. His fingers did nothing to alleviate the burning desire flowing through his limbs and wreaking havoc on his faculties.
Giving up, he rolled over and pulled himself off the main thoroughfare. Huge waste containers dotted the narrow passage, its darkness punctuated every so often by a light strung here and there, offering comfortable camouflage. Mojogan leaned against the cold brick façade of the feeding place and gulped for air, his muddled thoughts racing. Perhaps a virulent plague now threatened the Time After.
He’d crossed through the portal before, a number of times, but never with such results as this. Images of Isyndre drifted into the haze, and his heart flip-flopped. He had to find her, to bring her back to the dragonkind alive and well. He shuddered at the idea of such a young dragonling facing the ravages of this virus, or whatever it was. He had an understanding of the workings of nature; she had none.
If the virus was fatal, he hoped she would at least die quickly and before any mature human could take advantage of her condition. There were those in this time who would do so, and this knowledge fed the acid already churning in his stomach. With all his strength, he slammed his fist into the pavement and bellowed, though it came out only as a determined rasp. By the gods, he would find Isyndre, dead or alive, and get her back where she belonged. Where he belonged.
His groin ached. Isyndre faded into a dusky twilight as the feral need enveloped him once again and he struggled to stand.
“Oh yeah, suck me off.” A man’s gruff voice interrupted Mojogan’s efforts.
A muffled, feminine voice and the fragrance of human desire drew his attention. Mojogan stumbled forward, using the wall and waste containers for support. On the far side of the second filthy receptacle, he could just make out a short, muscular man, pants around his ankles, his back against the grimy wall. A woman on her knees worked on the man’s cock, licking it and sucking at it as if she couldn’t get enough.
His hands yanked at her black hair, and she tightened her grip on his pale ass, taking him deep into her mouth. “Let me fuck your mouth, baby,” the man gasped, pulling the silky strands and thrusting himself into her.
Mojogan watched, dazed, the cool evening air drying the sweat on his skin and sending a chill down his spine. The man stiffened and yelled and the woman expertly twisted and bounced along with him, never breaking their connection as he rode out his orgasm, his hips grinding into her face.
Seconds later they both relaxed, and his flaccid cock plopped from her lips. He pulled up his pants and slid to the ground, laughing. She crawled into his lap and settled there. The pungent smell of sex tickled Mojogan’s nose and he inhaled as if it were oxygen. They still didn’t realize he watched them.
“Your turn, princess. You want me to suck it, fuck it, or lick it?”
The woman giggled. “Just get me off,” she cooed, and Mojogan’s prick nearly exploded.
Unable to resist his desire any longer, he stepped forward, unsteady, and spoke. “Please.”
The couple screamed in perfect sync. The woman scrambled to stand, but the man held her to him in a protective grip, his terrified gaze meeting Mojogan’s. “Leave us alone, dude. We don’t have any money and this get together is by invite only, understand? Beat it, weirdo.” The quiver in his voice belied his bravado.
Mojogan nodded and tried to turn away, but faltered. He stopped to catch his breath and glanced at the woman. Her wide eyes gave her an innocent appearance one wouldn’t expect from someone who’d just given a male oral pleasure in the middle of a public place, albeit a secluded one. The man glared at him, eyeing him up and down. Suddenly, his expression changed, his slanted eyes growing as wide as his lover’s.
As Mojogan watched, both of their gazes drifted to his erection, and he noticed the scent of the woman’s excitement increased. She licked her lips and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
From the way she shifted in her lover’s lap, the man must have responded to the sight of Mojogan’s prick dripping in front of them too. In his time, Mojogan had his pick of women or men. He hoped his charms, or at least the size of his cock, had some value here. The man cleared his throat and whispered in the girl’s ear. She nodded at him and grinned at Mojogan.
“I’m Joe and this is Molly. Consider this an invitation.”




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Spaceport: Sugar and Spice by Tuesday Morrigan

Spaceport: Sugar & Spice
by Tuesday Morrigan

cover art by Zuri
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-081-0
Genre(s): Futuristic, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Ménage, Spaceport
Series: Spaceport Multi-Author
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1047

Blurb:

Justifier. It’s her alias: the stronger side of Sugar Lawson. Until she goes up against Tarragon and Anise Spice, Sugar thinks Justifier, a determined assassin punishing those who take advantage of the weak, is the only side to her personality. But in a battle of wills, Sugar discovers the Spice brothers bring out the woman inside.
Hired to protect an unscrupulous mobster, the Spice brothers are determined to keep their client alive. But they never figured they would be protecting him from the galaxy’s avenger. Or that they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off the dark, compelling beauty.
There’s nothing sweet about a woman named Sugar and there’s nothing hot about the Spice brothers, but when the three get together, everything changes.




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.

Sugar Lawson stared at the gigantic screen in front of her, and read off the information as the artificially intelligent brain of her spaceship known as Kyoto spoke the words.
“Interactive video mail with attachments is currently arriving from Monoke ‘Agent Talons’ McCarty. Please state whether you desire to accept, and if accepted please acknowledge acceptance.”
“Please scan video mail.”
“Video mail scanned. It is virus free and does not contain any tracking device.”
“Better not,” Sugar grumbled as she stood and grabbed a bottle of water from her captain’s fridge. “Mail accepted,” she said over her shoulder before taking a big gulp from the canister. She was in a surly mood. Had been since her last case. Almost reluctantly, Sugar marched back to the console and took her seat.
“Open mail.” She was really hoping her agent had sent her something more solid than her last case which had turned out to be nothing more than a shallow attempt at revenge. And Sugar didn’t do revenge. She was known as Justifier for a reason.
In a lawless galaxy she doled out justice.
For a price.
The middle-aged woman who’d tried to hire the Justifier hadn’t understood the difference between revenge and justice. Luckily, Sugar always did a thorough investigation before deciding if a crime had been committed and what price the perpetrator would have to pay.
She’d been angry and frustrated when she’d discovered that the case was nothing more than an angry ex-wife trying to get back at her husband for leaving her for a younger woman.
After turning down the case, there was no reason for her to go planet hopping. She’d parked her ship at Adana, the only spaceport she liked. Almost a month later, she still had no assignment and nowhere to go.
She was not like most people. She couldn’t just sit back and enjoy the down time between cases. Hell, she wasn’t even really a person so to speak. She’d been genetically engineered to be her maker’s perfect wife. Bold, beautiful, and highly intelligent. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t considered that a woman who was smart enough to have deep conversations with a classified genius might actually want to be something more than a high-class homemaker.
After one too many evenings that bored the hell out of her, Sugar had purchased a ticket onto a shuttle ship. She hadn’t planned on the ship being jacked and the occupants being sold into slavery.
The man who had commanded the jacking had known exactly who and what she was the moment he spotted her. He had kept her bound and drugged, knowing that if he didn’t fully incapacitate her she would get free and break his neck. For over a year and a half she had been his sex slave. That was because it had taken her eighteen months to spot his first and last mistake.
Sugar had broken free from Radja’s hold, only to find herself at the mercy of another man. Armando Valentope ended up being her savior. A bounty hunter, he taught her all that she needed to know about protecting herself and those less fortunate than her.
Using the very skills he had taught her, she had gone back, two years after her escape, to find Radja. Her initial goal had only been to kill him, but then she’d discovered he was still forcing people into slavery. In the end, she’d not only broken his neck, she’d set hundreds of enchained individuals free. After that night, Armando had given her the name Justifier.
And Justifier needed a job.
She was even starting to irritate the hell out of her best friends. Sugar had been cooped up in her ship too long. She leaned forward and rubbed the area behind the two overgrown dogs’ heads, trying to silently apologize for her recent behavior.
Iskar, the bigger of the two, growled low in appreciation. We understand it has been hard, but sometimes…
The warm, fast grin flashed across her face. Yeah, I know. Sometimes Sugar had been a downright bitch.
Jolie moved a little closer. Sugar’s smile reappeared. Jolie might have been the smaller of the two waist-high dogs, but she was the more ferocious one. Only when she was around Sugar did she let out her softer side.
Like someone I know, Jolie purred in her surprisingly soft voice. Sugar would never admit it, not even under the threat of a thousand deaths, but she loved the sound of Jolie’s telepathic voice. It was both warm and sultry.
Like her, they were genetic experiments. Their creator was a different man than hers. One of her first cases involved a research facility doing illegal testing. Sugar closed the institute and set free the tortured humanoids and animals. Iskar and Jolie had been a pair of puppies with enhanced abilities. She’d taken one look at them and known she couldn’t leave them to their fates. Thankfully the two dogs decided to stay with her.
Well, well, well. This one looks interesting.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1047

A Painter's Price by Kira Stone

A Painter's Price
by Kira Stone

cover art by Kassie Thrace
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-097-1
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Magic and Mayhem, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1020

Blurb:

Erik the Painter once lived a life of decadence and debauchery, sparing no thought for the turmoil his wanton behavior created in the households where he stayed. His callousness earned him a visit from the King's mage... and the curse that keeps him alive through the centuries. He now exists solely to create. He has no mortal needs or concerns, save for the one night a year when he must sacrifice a piece of his soul to survive... until he has nothing left to give to his art.
Jason has studied not only the work of Erik the Painter, but everything he could learn about the elusive man. When his dream to meet the artist and the chance to discover the secret behind his centuries-long career comes true, Jason isn't prepared for the powerful erotic feelings the artist provokes in him. Yet his need to touch Erik slowly overrides every other, until there is nothing he can do but surrender, mind, body and soul. Together, in a magical journey, they learn the true cost of A Painter's Price.

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.

This is one fine orgy. The self-congratulatory thought filtered through Erik’s lust-fueled mind as he licked expensive red wine off the impressive cock bobbing before his lips. Who his mystery lover was, Erik couldn’t say. He had a nice meaty shaft, though. Not terribly long, but wide enough to split a man open. Erik’s sphincter spasmed just from imagining the feel of that thick cock sliding into him.
Salty-sweet pre-cum hit his tongue. He gave his lover’s ass a slap to bring forth another drop. Nectar of the gods, as far as Erik was concerned. Every man tasted different, and yet he loved them all.
“Oh, fuck me,” the man whimpered around his mouthful of Erik’s cock.
“Not this time.”
The spirit was willing, but the body grew weak. He’d been going at it, in one form or another, for several days now. The need for a long, uninterrupted sleep gnawed at him. He was hard pressed to keep his eyes open. Silently promising to make it up to his lover later, if he remembered, Erik sucked in earnest.
His lover attempted to return the attention. Erik winced as teeth caught his sensitive skin. All the more reason to end this quickly, he decided. At the moment, this man needed more education than he had the patience for.
His lover bucked and groaned under him. It didn’t take long to coax him into orgasm. Seed spilled across Erik’s tongue in a honey-sweet river. He drank down every last drop, feeling it was his due for the hard work he’d put in.
Under his guidance, the man continued to pleasure him with hand and mouth. Finally a weak orgasm rolled through Erik in quiet surrender, proving he’d been right about his need for a lengthy respite. He might have stayed awake long enough to mumble a word of praise before he lost himself in the warm, dark embrace of sleep.
* * *
A cool breeze ripped through the room some time later. The long brocade curtains surrounding the bed writhed, and the firelight flickered as though it were about to die in its wake. That alone would not have disturbed Erik from his well-earned slumber. No, a great booming voice startled him out of a deep sleep.
“Since you love your art above all else, I hereby sentence you to an eternity of creation.”
“What?” Fear trickled through the horrible hangover clouding Erik’s brain. Though he couldn’t yet see the shadowy figure standing beside the bed through his bloodshot eyes, he recognized the voice. The king’s mage was not pleased, and that was never a good thing.
“For the rest of your life, you will produce some of the finest art ever created.”
Well, that didn’t sound so bad. Painting was, after all, his passion. “Errrr… thank you.”
A sneer entered the mage’s voice as he continued. “Your creative energies will be your only sustenance. You will not eat or drink or sleep. You will not be troubled by mortal weaknesses except on the one night a year when the price of being the greatest painter alive must be paid to me, a fragment of your inner spirit to be given to a vessel of my choosing. You will exist solely to create… until your soul is empty.”
Now that last bit seemed a little extreme. Honestly, Erik didn’t know what good his soul was doing for him, but he didn’t think it would be wise to go around without one. “Is that really necessary? Painting is all I’m good at anyway.”
“Painting… and debauchery. The king has lost all patience with the discord you create among his court with your callous, self-indulgent behavior. Could you not even leave the livestock alone?” the mage muttered with disgust.
“That wasn’t me,” Erik protested as he tried to extract himself from the tangle of limbs pinning him down. A small corner of his brain wondered again who the bed belonged to, how long he’d been in it, and if his host’s largess would hold out until he had a bite of bread and cheese, maybe another mug of wine.
“Not in body, perhaps, but the act was done with your encouragement. You sow depravity into the souls of the good people of this land, leaving a trail of broken marriages and broken hearts behind. The king will have no more of this debauchery!”
“I hardly think all the consequences of the court’s questionable behavior can be blamed on me.” Erik looked around for his clothes, a little intimidated to be talking to the king’s mage without a stitch on. However, every garment he found smelled rank with spent passion. He flipped the bed curtain over his lap instead. “I enjoy a good party. What soul doesn’t? That’s human nature, not a crime.”
“The evidence is quite plain, and the king has rendered his judgment. He left it to me to determine your punishment. After a fortnight of observation, I see the only way to change your ways is to give you exactly what you desire.”
Warning bells clamored in his head, but Erik couldn’t puzzle out exactly what about that statement troubled him. “Would the king be satisfied if I left the city for a few weeks?” Surely he could convince one of the rich lords in the outlying districts to keep him sheltered and fed for a month.
“Your departure might satisfy him, but it will not satisfy me. From this day forth, you will breathe art, dine on creative passion, and survive as long as your depraved, artistic soul can sustain you.” The mage’s robes rippled as if an angry fall wind had whirled around him. “As I will it, so mote it be,” the mage intoned with an earth-shaking power.
And, just like that, Erik’s life transformed.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1020