Sundown Investigations Collection by Cat Marsters

Sundown Inc. (Collection)
by Cat Marsters
Cover art by Sahara Kelly
ISBN: 978-1-60521-170-1
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, Werewolves, Magic and Mayhem
Series: Sundown, Inc.
Length: Collection




http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1127





Blurb:
Paranormal investigations. Information, assassination, negotiation. No task too strange, no job too big.

Undead assassins are one thing, but for Masika the job turns tough when her latest target is the one man who tried to save her -- twenty-three centuries ago. For Magda, life is full enough with three small children and a job that brings new meaning to "full time," but being a werewolf in love makes it just that little bit harder. Con may not be the world's greatest wizard, but he's just conjured a naked pirate queen on his hearthrug. And sex faery Aura has fallen in love with her best friend -- but he and his boyfriend have plans of their own for her.

This collection contains the previously released novellas She Who Dares, Blue Moon, What Wizards Want, and Baby Sham Faery Love.

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.

There are nights when I seriously wish I’d never risen from the grave.I mean, you roll out of bed (because seriously, who sleeps in a coffin these days?) go and take a shower, and five minutes later someone crashes through the window with a stake, screaming death at you.Whatever. I’d prefer to do my slaying wearing a little more, but a girl’s gotta protect herself even when she’s naked.Mostly I was annoyed that he’d broken into my house. He was a teenybopper with a stake and a nervous expression. I gave him an ultimatum: either run away and never came back, or I crush your throat.He ran.It’s not that I don’t like Humans. I do. Sometimes I can even eat a whole one.Joke.Some of my best friends are Human. I’ve had Human lovers, plenty of them. Although the thing with Human lovers is they tend to be Vampire groupies. They’re in it for the thrill of the bite. It’s all rather shallow.I locked my door and added ‘Update alarm system’ to my mental to-do list. Honestly, you spend fucking millions on a system and it still lets Humans in. I wonder if the Queen has this problem?I showered and dressed. Leather, ’cos I was feeling kickass. Yeah, it’s a cliché, but for good reason. Strutting around in heels and leather makes a girl feel damn sexy. And when your face and body have been ruined for twenty-three centuries, sexy is hard to come by.A couple of holsters and I was good to go. The British police frown on civilians carrying weapons, but I learned how to mind-bend policemen years ago. And weapons are de rigueur in my kind of job. Yeah, superhuman speed, strength, stamina -- plus a vicious set of fangs -- make mincemeat of Humans. But I don’t hunt Humans. I hunt scarier things than that.I double-checked my alarm as I left, and went out to play.




http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1127

Mark of the Moom by BJ McCall

Mark of the Moon
by B.J. McCall

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-165-7
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Werewolves
Series: Moonlust
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1126

Blurb:

The mark of the moon prophecy ordains that Ivy Ward must mate with the werewolf bearing a birthmark similar to the one she bears, a crescent-shaped moon. No were in Ivy’s pack will touch her and she’s lived her life saddled with the nickname, Poison Ivy.
Frustrated and looking for love, Ivy takes an extended vacation with a California pack. Since her mark isn’t readily visible, Ivy embarks on a personal mission of passion. All she needs is a sexy, unsuspecting were to help her.
Lodan Hunt bears the mark of the moon, but there is far more to the prophecy than a preordained mate.
One were and one she-wolf, destined to mate.

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.

Heart pumping, lungs laboring and paws burning, Lodan Hunt hugged the final turn of the grueling forty-mile race. Sponsored by the West Coast elders, the trail of the annual cross-country race was over rugged terrain designed to challenge any werewolf. The first twenty miles were completed in human form, and then the participants shifted and finished the race on four legs.
Lodan had won the last two races. With this victory he'd hold a record, the only were to win for three consecutive years. Lodan wanted that record. His lead was slender, but solid. Several wolves were keeping pace, but Lodan was confident he had more than enough stamina to beat them in the final uphill stretch. Paws digging into the rough meadow grass, Lodan began his closing push. Nothing could stop him now.
Lights lined the final stretch and the enthusiastic pack members hovered along the makeshift rails. A blur of faces in human form, the crowd cheered, clapping and yelling out the name of their favorite. Arms waved before him and Lodan ducked his head. Fingertips slid along his spine, from neck to tail, leaving a shockwave in their wake. A whiff of she-wolf stung his nostrils. Heat spiked through him, piercing his brain and exploding in his chest.
The shock forced air from his lungs and threw him off-stride. His attention momentarily diverted, Lodan lost his concentration. His paw slipped, the lost momentum costing him dearly. A streak of gray fur came up on his right and shot past him. Lodan lunged forward trying to regain the lead, but to no avail. He'd lost.
After months of training, he'd lost in the last few yards. Lodan had no idea what had just happened, but the crescent birthmark on his right hip was on fire.


http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1126

Escaping Darkside by Amanda Steiger

Escaping Darkside
by Amanda Steiger

Cover art by Zuri
ISBN: 978-1-59596-581-3
Genre(s): Paranormal, Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): The Dark Side, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1131

Blurb:

Death is just the beginning of Christian’s problems. After he’s killed in a hit and run accident, he wakes up in Darkside -- the demon-infested world between life and death -- and learns that he’s being hunted by the merciless Council.
Then he meets Seth, an inhumanly beautiful man with silver hair and golden eyes. He offers Christian his protection, and a glimmer of hope. At the far end of Darkside is a door to Earth. If Christian can reach it, he’ll have a second chance at life.
There is only one problem. Going back to Earth will mean leaving Seth behind forever… and Christian is falling in love with him.

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.

Christian woke face down on the ground, head throbbing. A smell like garbage and sewer water filled his nose, and hard, gritty pavement pressed against his cheek. He opened his eyes to find himself lying in a narrow alley between two brick buildings, next to a row of overflowing trashcans.
Christian stood, staggered, and leaned against the nearby wall. What had happened? Had he been mugged? A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he swayed. He must have hit his head. Maybe that was why he couldn't remember anything. When the world finally stopped spinning, he began to walk.
Run-down, brick buildings lined the narrow street, and fragments of broken glass glittered on the pavement. It looked like one of the bad parts of Chicago, but it wasn't a neighborhood he recognized.
He heard a low, faint moan, like distant wind, and froze. The back of his neck prickled and he slowly turned.
Four red-cloaked figures stood in the street, motionless. Hoods covered their heads and shadow hid their faces. Goose bumps rose on Christian's flesh. "Um… hello."
No reply. One figure stretched out an arm and curled a long, bony finger in beckoning.
Christian swallowed, hard. His heart rose into his throat as fear slammed into his gut like a fist. He took a shaky step backward, then turned and ran, feet pounding the pavement, breath coming in frantic gulps. He looked over his shoulder and saw them following -- not running, but floating several inches above the road, their red cloaks billowing behind them.
What the hell was going on?
He kept running, but he could sense the things getting closer, closing in on him. An icy hand curled around his arm, the fingers brittle and thin, yet strong as iron. Cold filled his chest, as if that skeletal hand had reached into his body to grip his heart. He looked into the darkness beneath the thing's hood and saw the glint of eyes. A weird clicking, chattering noise drifted from that darkness.
Christian twisted away. "Let me go!" He yanked his arm free. His skin still burned where the thing had touched him.
He ran, ignoring the throbbing stitch in his side and the burn in his lungs. There was nothing left in his mind but the desperate need to get away. He ran until his legs gave out, and he sank to his hands and knees, gulping air, each breath like nettles scraping his raw lungs. He looked over his shoulder, shaking. The red-cloaked figures were nowhere in sight. Somehow, he'd lost them.
He crawled to the side of the street and hid behind a Dumpster, hugging his knees to his chest. He looked down at his arm, where the thing had grabbed him. Its grip had left ugly, black burn marks on his skin, and the marks writhed like something alive. Just looking at them made him nauseous. He pulled his sleeve over the burn, hiding it, then leaned back against the brick wall and closed his eyes. His muscles felt like overcooked noodles, but somehow, he managed to drag himself to his feet and resume walking.
Ahead, a row of motorcycles stood next to a low, windowless building with black cement walls. Even from a distance, Christian could hear the pulse of a bass-beat. A dance club?
Whatever it was, he needed to get inside. He ran toward the building, flung open the door, and entered. A blast of warm air and sound hit him. After the eerie silence of the street, the sudden din of music and voices was overwhelming. The club was dimly lit, smoky, and packed. Music thumped in his ears. Christian squeezed through the crush of bodies, his gaze darting back and forth. Sweaty shirts surrounded him wherever he turned.
"Ow! Watch where you're going!"
"Sorry. I --" Christian looked up and his jaw dropped. The thing staring down at him had the body of a weightlifter, but from the neck up, it resembled a cross between a bull and a lion, with curved black horns, a shaggy mane, and sharp fangs. "What are you staring at?" growled a deep, rough voice.
"S-sorry," Christian stammered and backed away.
Had he stumbled into some sort of costume party? No, that hadn't been a mask. He'd seen its mouth move.
He stepped on something that felt like a rope and heard a snarl. He looked down to see a long, furry tail pull away, and something with three horns and four eyes glared at him. Christian stumbled backward.
Breathing hard, he made his way through the crowd. He spotted a silver-haired girl in black leather. Relieved to see someone relatively normal-looking, Christian grabbed her arm. She looked at him. Her eyes were huge, almond-shaped, and completely black, without whites or irises. "Excuse me, Miss, I'm sorry, but could you tell me…"
She opened her mouth, revealing inch-long fangs where her canine teeth should have been, and hissed like a cat. He backed off. His head swiveled back and forth. Everywhere he looked was a creature out of a nightmare. There stood a man with a wriggling mass of tentacles where his mouth should have been. Across from him loomed another man with the head of a hawk and four feathery arms.
A hand grabbed his arm and twisted him around. He found himself staring up into a face that was almost human, except it was black -- not brown, but licorice black -- and topped by a pair of small, spiral horns protruding from crimson hair. The man dragged Christian through the crowd, out the door, into the cool night. He shoved his face into Christian's, eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here? You're not from Darkside."
"I don't even know how I got here. What is this place?"
His lip curled in an unpleasant expression that was half-grin, half-sneer, revealing tiny, sharp fangs. "You're from Earth, huh?"
"Earth? You mean we're not on Earth?"
"Oh boy, are you in for a rude awakening." Sharp claws dug into the meat of Christian's arm, making him squirm. "There's bound to be a fat reward on your head. The Council doesn't like it when souls slip through their grasp."
Breathing hard, Christian tried to pry the sausage-thick, dark fingers from his arm. "Let go!"
"Oh no. You're not getting away so easily."

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1131

Sweet Oblivion 2: Snare by Jordan Castillo Price

Sweet Oblivion 2: Snare
by Jordan Castillo Price

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-59596-388-8
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Vampires, The Dark Side, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Sweet Oblivion
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1112

Blurb:

With summer ending and temperatures dipping low at night, Michael's eager to get his leather jacket back, and although Wild Bill could easily vamp any sales clerk into giving Michael some new duds, it wouldn't be quite the same as the jacket he left at his parents' house. Not unless the malls have begun selling clothing with Rohypnol and ketamine sewn into the seams.
The return of the jacket comes with a price: a new cell phone from Michael's parents. Surprisingly, Wild Bill encourages Michael to keep the phone. After all, Michael wouldn't want to be the only twenty-one-year-old in the world without one. Seems innocent enough... right?
But you never know where an innocent gift will lead. Michael worries the phone may be some shiny bait, meant to lure him closer to his family, and then, college. Everyone seems so intent on getting Michael to enroll, but he's busy looking to catch 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.

The odor of rot was unmistakable. Decay has its own earthy-sweet foulness that can't possibly be anything else. The alkaline underpinning of chlorine masked the aroma slightly, but it was still there, a force of nature, inevitable, inexorable.
I knelt by the side of the pool and scooped out a handful of slimy brown leaves. When was the last time it had been cleaned? If I had a skimmer, I'd do it myself. The kids at the shallow end didn't seem to care that they were covered in seed pods and had dead bugs stuck in their hair. I should probably take a lesson from them and stop being so picky. After all, no one ever accused me of being a neat freak.
But the smell of rot -- that was different from the other smells I lived with, cigarettes, and bodies, and sex. I didn't know if I'd ever slough it off.
There was the possibility that I'd get the motel clerk to come out and give the pool a once-over. All I had to do was ask. And if he said no, I could ask again -- while I reached out with my mind and tried to imagine him having a big change of heart and being bowled over by the desire to make me happy. It didn't always work when I tried to do that. But sometimes, it did.
It would feel amazing to knife through that water. The pool was old, and therefore deeper than they usually make them nowadays, with all the litigation-happy predators looking for an excuse to file suit. It had a diving end. I've always loved diving, the suddenness of it, the drama. The plunge.
"Do you even own a pair of swimming trunks?"
My sister's shadow stretched over me. She hadn't startled me or anything. On some level, I'd felt her coming -- I just hadn't shifted my attention to her quite yet. I looked up at her. She'd worn makeup. A hint of plum eyeliner, a touch of mascara. I smelled hairspray.
And leather. She had my jacket clutched against her chest like a shield.
"I could wear cut-offs."
"I guess. So, where's your boyfriend?"
"Sleeping." If you call it that. Wild Bill does, and he even claims he can wake up any time he wants. I have my doubts.
"Sleeping? It's almost sundown."
"He stays up late."
She held her hand up, palm out. "Don't say any more. I don't want to start picturing it."
I rolled my eyes and stood. She would've said that whether or not I was gay. It was her obligation as a sibling to act like my sex life was gross.
We walked to a poolside table. The cheap plastic chairs had the beginnings of mildew creeping up the legs. More rot. I held out Julie's chair for her, and she shot me a strange look before she sat.
"What's with that?" she said.
"What?"
"Never mind. It's just weird, is all. We were still kids when you left. Now we're grown up."
We were? I thought she was exactly the same. She laid my jacket across the table. I wondered how thoroughly she'd searched it. Enough to find Jim Harman's card and email him. But enough to find the stashes of Rohypnol and Ketamine I'd sewn into the seams? I could hardly check, with her sitting right there. And even if she had found it, I don't think she would've guessed what I was using it for. She'd probably just think I was partying.
"When're you coming back?" she said. "For a visit, I mean. Thanksgiving?"
"I hadn't really thought that far ahead."
She shoved herself into the back of the chair hard enough to tip it off its front legs, and she rocked it, and sighed. "Must be nice. I feel like my life is planned down to the last second."
"Take a semester off."
"Yeah, right."
"I'm serious. Pick a place you've always wanted to see, and just go. Rent a room and get a job that's enough to pay your rent, any old job, doesn't matter. But being somewhere new -- where you don't know anyone, and everything's different -- that's when big ideas hit you."
"What big ideas?"
I shrugged. The nature of life and death and vampires, mostly. But I guessed that most people's big ideas were probably different from mine. "Four months. It's not really that long, when you think about it."
Her eyes went wistful. She had mom's brown eyes, and the same brown hair as all of us. Hers was sun-touched around her face. "I know you're right. Four months. It's nothing. But mom would skin me alive."
"You're nineteen, you can --"
"Look, you don't get it. You never cared what she thought about you."
"That's news to me."
"Oh, come on. You know what I mean. Girls are closer to their mothers. We have more to prove."
That actually was news to me. "Why?"
Julie made a huffy noise and shook her head. I suspected she really did need some big ideas of her own, but other than suggesting she give herself the time to allow those ideas to find her, there wasn't much more I could do.
Seeing her made me feel heavy-hearted in a way I wasn't sure I understood. If I told her that vampires existed, that I even had proof now, she'd still think I was crazy. The idiot doctor dad had sent me to had convinced the whole family I was just too creative for my own good. And sensitive. And that I needed to spin this fantasy world to compensate for Scary Mary's death.
Creative. Sensitive. Shit, maybe he'd known I was gay even though I never breathed a single word about it. Doctors creep me out.
I changed the subject to the new strip mall I'd noticed on Route 40, and we talked about shopping while the sun lowered, and finally set. Across the leafy pool and up one story, our door swung open and Wild Bill sauntered out onto the wraparound balcony. He was barefoot and shirtless, and his jeans rode low on his hips. He paused and lit a cigarette. Julie noticed my attention had shifted, and she turned to look. "And there's Sleeping Beauty now. Whoa. He is hot. You didn't tell me he had all those tattoos."
Bill leaned forward and rested his elbows on the railing. Hard to read his expression. Bemused? Maybe.
"So he's not going to come down and say hello?"
"He's… reserved."

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1112

Black Star Collection by Marteeka Karland

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1125

Blurb:

A love beyond time -- and space.
When the woman known as the Black Star Princess falls into the hands of enemy ship captain Mikiel, they discover a love that brings them together, along with the crews of their cyborg vessels. And they uncover the long-ago betrayal that condemned lovers Nani and Darian to endless servitude as the heart of those vessels.
The events that condemned Nani and Darian to a living hell have inextricably bound together everyone they hold dear. They'll do whatever it takes to find one another in the vast reaches of space -- and to unite their peoples. But as more and more trusted friends are revealed complicit in their long-ago betrayal, it seems there's no one they can trust -- but each other. Is what they had so long ago still strong enough to heal the rift that threatens to tear their home worlds apart?

Excerpt:

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

"I need more power to the maneuvering drive!" Sweat streamed down Nadira's face and neck as she gripped the forward and lateral control sticks with a firm but gentle hand. If she gripped too hard, she might miss one of the many fine vibrations running through this great ship, and that might mean the end of freedom as they knew it. This was definitely not the way she had envisioned a battle to be. Just one more thing to prove how green she was at her job.
"There is no more power! You're going to have to do the best you can with what you've got."
"Take it from life support if you have to, Captain. They're smaller and more maneuverable than we are, and I promise you they will kick our asses if I can't turn her."
An explosion rocked the Black Star, and Nadira had to hang on to her control panel to keep from losing her seat.
"Three more ships bearing 10830 by 424, closing fast, sir," Damon, the grizzled second in command, announced in his gruff, harsh voice. "That's a total of seven Asalian War Slavers."
"I have faith our --" His sarcastic pause grated on Nadira's nerves. "-- legendary pilot will get us out of this." Captain Barnus sat back in the captain's seat and crossed his arms. The pompous windbag had made it his personal mission to see her fail and removed as pilot of the Empire's newest -- and most advanced -- cyborg space ship, Black Star. If he refused to give her what she needed to get them out of this, he might do more than that. He might get them all captured and enslaved.
Nadira glanced at Damon before turning her eyes back to her console. The various viewscreens showed the space surrounding the Black Star and where their enemies were positioned. "I can't do it with what you're giving me to work with," she bit out.
Before anyone could say anything else, the Black Star shuddered and pitched as one of the Slavers fired on them.
"Direct hit! Aft starboard quarter!"
Nadira blocked out everything possible at this point. They were sitting ducks. Asalian War Slavers were the most maneuverable, heavily armed ships in the known galaxy. The Black Star might be the most feared ship in the Vok'nair Empire, but there was a limit to what she could do, especially since she hadn't bonded with her pilot.
That was the whole point of being a cyborg war ship. The Black Star was supposed to use the enhanced telepathic stimulators given her by the makers to bond with the pilot, captain, or second in command -- most usually the pilot. Unfortunately, Black Star hadn't bonded with any of them.
Nadira guided the ship as it swerved and danced around the Slavers, putting herself in the middle. Yes, the Black Star was a very large ship, but the Asalians were notoriously careful with their people. She was betting they wouldn't risk their own ships being caught in the line of fire.
"Target lasers and missiles. Shoot to kill."
"Asalians aren't a mortal threat, Captain," Damon said, his voice matter-of-fact. "There's no reason to do more than disable --"
"I said," Captain Barnus snarled angrily over the top of Damon, "shoot to kill."
Nadira knew she could do anything it took to prevent her ship from being destroyed, but she refused to kill others to ensure the safety of her ship unless it was a last resort. Asalians took slaves. They did not kill. Given what she needed, she was confident she could outfly them.
She readjusted her hold on the stick and braced herself to react the moment weapons control fired. The Black Star would let her know when to move -- whether or not they had bonded -- if she just paid attention to the vibrations flowing through the ship. If Captain Dumbass wouldn't do this the easy way, she'd have to do it the hard way.
The Slavers surrounded them now. She could almost feel them bracing themselves for an attack. Nadira was certain she had puzzled them by putting herself in such a vulnerable situation.
There! A minute loss of vibration in the controls. Power being diverted from all systems save life support to fire the massive guns of the Black Star. Her plan was to bank hard to port, but before the signal got from her brain to her hands, the ship lurched in the exact maneuver she'd planned. Fortunately, the laser shot went wide, striking its target, but not destroying it as intended.
Captain Barnus bellowed angrily at her, but she blocked him out. Nadira didn't have time to contemplate what had just happened because firing at the Asalians would definitely bring retaliation. She had to keep at least one Slaver in their line of fire or they were as good as captured.
A volley of laser fire from three of the Slavers narrowly missed them as she swerved and swooped from one Slaver ship to the next, finally settling on the one she figured to be the command ship. It was slightly larger than the others, though no other markings indicated it to be any different. Having studied every scrap of information the Empire had on the Asalians, she knew Slavers didn't travel in groups without having one ship in command of the others.
She put herself behind the larger ship, effectively shadowing it. Nadira matched the Slaver move for move -- no matter how extreme. She wasn't sure how the Black Star managed several of the sharp turns and climbs and dives. The creaking metal was a testament to the stress, but the ship obeyed her commands perfectly. Pride swelled within her. If it was possible for a cyborg ship to have a consciousness -- something she had begun to doubt when she hadn't been able to link to the Black Star -- this one recognized her as a friend. Finally! The ship might not have formed a bond with her yet, but she was very close. Trust was building between them, and that was the key.
Renewed hope that she might get them out of this brought an adrenaline surge through her veins. The Slaver she was using to shield the Black Star couldn't shake her. If she could force him into leading her toward open space, she might be able to use the jump engines to get them into hyperspace. It would seriously strain their resources, and they would be helpless once they exited to normal space until they'd had a chance to generate more power, but it would secure their escape from the Slavers. She just had to calculate their jump to be as close to a Vok'nair base as possible.
The Slaver tried a banking maneuver to rejoin its comrades, but Nadira anticipated and effectively cut the ship off. The move left the Black Star exposed to the other Slavers for a short time, and several volleys of laser and missile fire streamed toward them. One missile struck the port aft quarter shield, and there was an enormous whoosh as the shields on the Black Star buckled without even a moment's resistance. Nadira lost her breath as the equivalent of an anguished, terror filled scream engulfed her mind. Black Star!
Unfortunately for the Slaver, a shield-crippling missile -- shot by its comrade -- glanced off the smaller ship, effectively neutralizing its shields, as well. In that moment, Nadira knew she'd lost this game of cat and mouse.
She had two choices. She could duck back behind the Slaver, or she could make a run for empty space. The problem was the missiles. Asalian missiles were programmed to seek out specific generic parts of any ship they came into contact with. Engines, primary hull, even shield resonance, all had a specific energy signature. The Asalians had refined the detection of these signatures to a fine art. Unfortunately, Nadira had no idea what the Slavers would do next. If they were only looking to disable Black Star's engines, moving behind the command Slaver wouldn't hurt anyone. On the other hand, if they were good and pissed off, looking to breach the Black Star's hull, putting the Slaver between herself and the missiles might be a death sentence for everyone aboard the Slaver if someone decided taking out the Black Star was worth the sacrifice. It wasn't like the Asalians to risk their own ships -- quite the opposite -- but it wasn't like them to shoot a shield missile so close to one of their own, either. One more indecision in the heat of battle. Perhaps she wasn't as good as everyone thought.
While she had no qualms about disabling a ship to secure the escape of her own, she didn't know if she was ready to sacrifice a ship whose government the Empire wasn't officially at war with. Asalians captured. They didn't destroy. Usually.
But was she willing to take that chance?

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1125

Hand of the Master by Madeline Oh

The Hand of the Master
by Madeleine Oh

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-206-7
Genre(s): BDSM
Theme(s): Ménage
Length: Novel

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1123

Blurb:

Recently widowed, Helen Crewe needs a fresh start. A job in the south of France cataloging a private library seems like the perfect change of venue. Once she settles into the luxurious living quarters at Les Santons, she's sure she'll be able to leave the past behind her. Until she awakens in the night to familiar sounds -- a bondage scene being played out in the garden beneath her window between Luc de Prioux and his personal secretary, Branko. In the dark, memories come flooding back.
The library Luc inherited with his grandfather's estate contains dozens of priceless treasures -- rare volumes of beautiful engraved erotica. But none are more priceless than Helen herself. Luc knows what he wants, and he's just the dominant Helen needs in her life. As long as she's willing to share...
Helen's stay at Les Santons promises to be everything she needs. Until a break-in at the estate makes her wonder what she's gotten into...

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 magnificent sunset was a fitting end to a day that had just about blown Helen's socks off. If first impressions were accurate, she'd landed on her feet in gilded slippers. The tour of the estate -- the only word for a property that comprised six different buildings -- went beyond impressive to astounding. Her designated office in the main house was as large as the spacious dining room in the house she'd just sold. Her living quarters were a beautifully furnished apartment over the private gym and it was from her balcony overlooking the gardens and the sea that she watched the sunset before crossing the courtyard back to the main house for dinner.
She'd all but staggered back two hours later. Four generous courses plus half a liter of wine on top of jet lag almost had her keeled over. Meeting her employer for the first time had done nothing to steady her. Luc de Prioux was handsome, charming, far, far too young for her, and hotter than August in Death Valley. She'd thought the secretary, Branko Odic, pretty up there on the bed-worthiness scale but their mutual employer led the pack.
Okay, she had far too much common sense to take off her panties for an employer. Any employer. Even one with dark blue eyes that all but matched the restraints Edwin used to tie her down on the bed, and a slow, sexy smile that crinkled the corners, and a wide, sensual mouth made to satisfy women's dreams. And she wasn't about to dwell on the strong, long-fingered hands and a handshake that clearly showed Luc de Prioux might be young, but damn well knew his place in the world.
It wasn't just the blatant sensuality of the man and his dark curls and tanned skin. It was the dominant air about him that struck chords in her heart and...
Yeah! Right! Better get her mind out of the clouds.
It wasn't easy. Everything about her new employer, from the broad shoulders under his silk shirt to his tanned wrists just visible below his cuffs, the firm chin, strong neck, upright stance and the assurance of his voice that, utterly ignoring the sexy French accent, screamed "Dominant." She had to fight the instinct not to respond submissively, resist the urge to kneel at his feet, to call him "Sir," or whatever the French equivalent was. She had managed dinner without making an utter fool of herself. All she had to do now was keep her dignity for six months.
Tomorrow she'd start work and be too busy indexing old tomes to nourish lustful thoughts. Apart from the three meals a day they would apparently share.
Maybe she'd skip a few meals.
Meanwhile, Helen showered in her almost decadently luxurious bathroom, experimented with the bidet and decided that yes, it really was a handy fixture for a widow in need. After virtuously flossing and brushing her teeth, she sank into the smooth linen sheets under the goose down comforter and was asleep in minutes.
A noise outside awoke her. It was still dark and a silver streak of moonlight lit the wall opposite the foot of her bed. Another sound. Oddly familiar but she couldn't quite place it. Maybe she'd dreamt it.
It came again: the crack of a whip in the air. Either she was dreaming or...
Helen got out of bed. The room was a little chilly in the night. Her robe was still packed, so she padded barefoot and naked across her room to open the window and peer between the slats of the shutters.
She all but gasped as she stared intently, blinked to assure herself she wasn't dreaming before she unlatched the shutters and opened one a few inches to see better. The courtyard garden below her window was lit by moonlight, but it wasn't the scent of early jasmine, the sound of some night bird, or the antique ornamental urns that drew her attention. To the right, a pergola stretched from the house to the edge of the courtyard, and lashed between two of the uprights was a man. Naked to the waist, his skin pale in the moonlight, arms and legs spread-eagled, he looked helpless, vulnerable and magnificent. The night air chilled Helen's shoulders to the point of goosebumps. He had to be cold... Or maybe not.
Her heart did a little flip as the sound repeated. A second man wielded a single tail whip, cracking it in the air and hitting the stone paving with a sharp sound that brought back a flood of memories. Edwin had owned such a whip. They'd bought it together at a fetish fair. He'd never used it on her -- she'd been too chicken -- but just the sound of it was enough to start her creaming.
The second man, dressed in a flowing white shirt, dark breeches and almost clichéd high boots, paced back and forth, circling his victim and cracking the whip at intervals. A wave of envy had Helen wishing she were the one strung up and helpless and the whip wielder were her lover...





http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1123

Sierra Dafoe signs with TKA!

I am very excited to announce that I have just signed with The Knight Agency for literary representation!



Nephele Tempest, who reps authors Nalini Singh, Gemma Halliday, and Shannon K. Butcher among other, will be working with me on my new paranormal series -- come join my newsletter or my yahoogroup to stay updated on further developments!

Yummy Love: Apple Crisp by Kate Hill

Yummy Love: Apple Crisp
by Kate Hill

cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-086-5
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure
Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Yummy Love
Length: Novella






http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1124







Blurb:





Cass is a gardener at a magical museum near Hot River. He takes loving care of all the trees and plants and is pleasantly surprised when Fidel, a Transcendent apple tree sprite, decides to show his appreciation. Cass quickly learns that Fidel is harder to resist than his favorite dessert.
Since his Transcendence Ceremony, when he changed from an ordinary tree sprite to a shapeshifter, Fidel has stood silent and alone. Hurt by his former lover, he thought he’d never fall in love again, but Cass has lured him out of hiding.
Cass finally believes he can put his dark past behind him and find a new life with Fidel. Then a killer begins stalking Transcendent sprites. Fidel suspects his old lover of the crimes and he and Cass must risk everything to stop him.







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.

Each Transcendent tree sprite had a little sign posted near it with his name imprinted on it. Not that Cass needed signs anymore. They were for the tourists. Cass recognized each and every sprite, except for one.
A particular apple tree never changed to his human form. Cass sometimes wondered if he was a sprite at all, or just an ordinary apple tree. Not that it mattered. Cass loved all trees and had no problem with caring for this one, regardless of whether or not it shifted into a sprite.
At the moment Cass was standing on a ladder, picking fruit from that particular tree. Fidel was the name on the sign beside it. Fidel, a sturdy apple tree who bore the most delicious fruit on the premises.
Cass had spent all afternoon harvesting apples from Fidel. He didn't want the fruit to turn bad or the weight to burden the tree for too long. Even if he never changed to his human form, he deserved respect for the quality of the fruit he provided. So what if he didn't feel the need to so much as introduce himself after two years? After all, who was Cass, a simple human, to make a judgment on a noble sprite?
He paused a moment and gazed skyward. Dusk was setting in and Cass' stomach grumbled with hunger. "It's time for me to go home for dinner, Fidel," he said. "But I'll be back in the morning, after I do some weeding in the rose garden."
He reached for a large red apple and shined it on his shirt, then took a bite, loving the firmness of the fruit and the snap as his teeth sank into it. Sweetness filled his mouth and he took a moment to chew and swallow before climbing down the ladder.
Cass sat under Fidel and leaned his back against his trunk. He rested a moment while enjoying the apple. When he finished, he tossed the core in the trash bag in his pickup truck. Then he loaded the ladder and baskets of apples he'd picked onto the truck. Before going home he needed to drop off the apples at the museum café, where the cook would use them to create a variety of dishes. Cass intended to take some home too and make his favorite dessert, apple crisp.
A short time later, he was on the way home. To get there from the museum's main building, he needed to cut across the field where the fruit trees grew.
By now night had fallen, but the full moon made it easy to see. He noticed movement by Fidel. Silhouettes of two children stood by the tree. Cass saw the glint of a blade in the hand of one boy and he shouted, "Hey! Get away from that tree!"
He jumped out of the truck and ran toward the children, who fled. Cass prided himself on being very athletic and he had no doubts about catching the brats. No one destroyed museum property, especially these beautiful tree sprites. Not on his watch.
He'd nearly caught up to the children when a hand fell on his shoulder and dragged him backward.
Frustrated, Cass jerked away from his pursuer and turned sharply. "Get your hands off me!"
He would have continued, but shock stole his speech.
In front of him stood the most wildly gorgeous creature he'd ever seen. Well over six feet tall, with skin the same rich brown as bark and hair the same deep green as leaves, this tree sprite took Cass' breath away. The sprite's eyes were such vivid green that their color was noticeable even in the moonlight. Sleek muscles sculpted his rangy body. From his broad shoulders to his long, chiseled legs, he was sex appeal personified. He stood towering and half-naked, those vibrant eyes locked on Cass.
The gardener licked his lips, his heart beating fast from more than his recent sprint.
"Calm yourself," the sprite said in a deep, soothing voice. "They're only children."
"They wanted to defile you."
"I think they merely wanted to carve their initials in me."
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"It's something many trees must put up with."
"From humans who have no knowledge of magic maybe, but not from children who live along Hot River. They should know better." Cass' voice faded a bit and he closed his eyes momentarily. He was the last person who should make judgments about others. Not with all the terrible things he'd done in his past.
"Your reaction took me by surprise, Cass. You're usually gentle."
Cass' brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you. I thought I knew every sprite on museum property, but --"
"You do know me." The sprite smiled, his white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. "In fact you know me so well that you tasted my fruit just a short time ago."
Now Cass was really surprised, and thrilled. He smiled. "Fidel?"





http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1124

Bunny Tails: Splitting Hares by Camille Anthony

Bunny Tails: Splitting Hares
by Camille Anthony

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-215-9
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure
Theme(s): Interracial, Werewolves, BBW, Madam Periwinkle's Erotic Delights
Series: Bunny Tails
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1067

Blurb:

Ouida's having a bad hair day. It's about to get worse. She's unknowingly crossed a line with the pack leader and he's called off her mating with Vance. If she wants Vance she’ll have to submit to pack law.
Vance isn't used to sharing, but when his Alpha makes it the deal breaker to his mating Ouida, he agrees to share her with his enforcer team members during the Fertility Festival.
He saved her from human hunters, but there's no saving her from his fellow werewolf enforcers, who plan to split his hare four ways. Seems Vance's Christmas Bunny has become the Festival treat, and the least he can do is make sure she enjoys being their centerpiece.
Ouida trusts Vance, and with him by her side, she’ll give all four werewolves a night they won’t forget. In the end, she’ll gain more than a mate, she’ll gain a family. Submission has never been so rewarding.

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 name was Ouida, pronounced Wee-da. And she'd quickly informed me I'd better not nick her name… whatever the hell that meant. We'd barely been mated twenty-four hours and already some of her human ways were pissing me off. For instance, she wasn't even dressed yet and our appointment with my Alpha loomed in fifteen minutes.
"Ouida! If you don't hurry we're going to be late!"
"Hold your horses, wolfman. I'm coming!"
If only she was. If only we were! I could have fucked her thrice in the time she'd spent primping in the bathroom. I took another impatient turn around the living room. "You're not coming, woman. If you were, I'd be buried ten inches deep inside that delicious cunt of yours."
Her scent spiked, making me even more aroused and short tempered. I probably shouldn't take it out on her. It was the height of our Winter Fertility Festival and I, a newly mated male, was nowhere near fucked out yet. My new mate, thank the Moon, was a full-figured black woman with large plushy breasts and a larger attitude. I liked that, liked that she'd quickly gotten over her fear of me and though human, seemed to be as hungry sexually as I was. I bit back a frustrated snarl, wanting her again, though I knew we didn't have the time.
That's one of the differences between our peoples. Obedience is so engrained in us, we wouldn't dream of insulting those in authority by lagging. If an Alpha gives orders for you to be here or there in such and such a time, you are there. Period. Humans seemed to be wired differently. It seemed Ouida couldn't care less about how close we were to disobedience. "What's taking you so long?"
She stuck her head around the corner of our bedroom door and nailed me with a look I'd fast come to recognize as her exasperated one. Raking a hard glance up and down my body, she snorted. "Vance, you're going to the meeting naked. I, on the other hand, had to dress before trying to do something with this mess." She tugged at her wildly tangled curls. "I distinctly remember telling you not to wet my hair, that it would go frizzy. But noooooooo, you had to get jiggy in the shower. So unless you can produce some type of moisturizer, you'll just have to wait while I figure out how to tame my do."
She waved her middle finger at me before disappearing back around the jamb. I'd been out among humans enough to know what that meant. I was tempted to suggest using my sperm to condition her hair… right after her sweet mouth had coaxed it out of my cock. Not that I'd risk saying anything like that to her right now. Even I knew enough about females to realize the fallout that would follow that suggestion. With a resigned sigh, I padded back into the bedroom, intent on searching out something that would serve as a damned moisturizer.
"Oooowouch!"
My instincts sped into overdrive when I heard that pained cry. Heart pounding, hackles rising, a primal anger swamped me -- the visceral reaction a newly mated wolf felt in the face of a possible threat to his female. I hit the bathroom doorway at mach speed. Seconds later, my hackles lowered and the hair at the ruff of my neck smoothed as I fought laughter. Ouida would not appreciate my humor.
My poor darling stood in front of the mirror, growling at her reflection as she struggled to tug the bristles of my short boar's hair brush through her dense curly hair.
My mouth watered, taking in the way her borrowed silky cream blouse and matching tap pants barely covered her full figure. The skimpy outfit was the only one I'd been able to procure, compliments of my elderly Aunt Hoga, who'd been allowed to run to fat in her waning years. She hadn't parted with them very willingly. Right now, the tap pants were riding the deep crease of Ouida's full ass, faithfully delineating those plump globes as she balanced her hips on the edge of the sink and leaned her torso over the scalloped shaped bowl.
Both arms raised, she tugged the brush through her hair, the jerking motions setting her heavy breasts to swinging. My eyes locked, almost crossing on the mouth-watering sight, body hardening in quick response. If it weren't for the meeting we had to attend, I'd take her right here, against the sink. Bending her over, I'd run my hands up the back of those chunky dark thighs while kissing my way up the soft middle of her spine. I'd kick her legs apart and notch my cock between her puffy cunt lips and sink in…
"Oww! Damn it to hell!" Ouida dropped her arms and shook her hands, rotating her shoulders. "I've been holding my arms up so long, my hands have grown numb!" The brush, stiff tines still clinging to the kinky mess on top of her head, stuck out at a jaunty angle, like some insanely cute clown's hat.
Tears welled, causing her pretty brown eyes to appear to shimmer as she met my gaze in the glass. Catching her plush bottom lip between her teeth, she tried to control the sad wobble before turning to face me.
I sympathized with her frustration, feeling a high degree of that emotion, myself. It was becoming clear she wasn't going to be ready any time soon. Glancing at the clock, I groaned. My cousin would have a conniption. Obviously, I'd failed at impressing upon my new mate the importance of gaining the Alpha's approbation. Westyn absolutely abhorred tardiness, hated it. Furthermore, he had the ability to derail all my careful planning. He'd been known to deny mating requests on that basis, alone. Was I worried? Hell, yeah.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1067

Dragon's Egg Collection by Lena Austin

Dragon's Egg (Collection)
by Lena Austin

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-173-2
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Dragon's Egg
Length: Collection

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1122

Blurb:

Puff the Magic Dragon lived by the sea…

Ever wondered what happens when Jackie grows up?
Jack Draper’s an orphan, with what he’s always thought of as a very active imagination -- until he discovers the dragon from his childhood memories is real. Worse, he’s the son of the usurper king of Honalee and the Red Sorceress. That means Jack is a wizard himself! Now he has to go to wizard school? Could life get more confusing than being a modern day gay man who suddenly becomes a wizard/dragonrider -- and heir to the throne his father didn't earn?

In a word -- Yes.





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.

Jack stood. He wanted Puff as much as the dragon wanted him, insanely enough. He cast about for a way to put Puff at ease. “The tea is undoubtedly ready. Are you warm enough?”
Puff raised a sardonic eyebrow, and his voice was heavy with irony. “Yes, I believe I am, if you refer to my body temperature.” He squared his shoulders. “Yes, tea would be lovely.”
Jack reached for the steaming kettle, but Puff batted his hand away. “You can’t take the heat. Allow me.”
Jack appreciated the double entendres flying back and forth between them. “I can so take the heat, but I’ll allow you the privilege of being in charge, at least this time.”
His drawled words had the desired effect. Puff shot him an unfocused look, and turned back to lift the hot kettle with his bare hands. He poured the tea into the cups with studious care. “So you say.”
Jack picked up his cup and matched the dragon’s ironic smile. “Indeed I do.” He limped with deliberate steps to the dragon’s stone pedestal and sat on the edge. He knew he now sat on Puff’s bed wearing nothing but a pair of pants. He hoped the silent invitation was clear.
Puff gave Jack an opaque look. The only sound was the faint rush of the sea, the tinkle of the waterfall in the basin, and the hum between them that was purely mental. Puff’s eyes narrowed. “Stop teasing, Jackie. It’s not nice.”
Knowing Puff could not possibly see facial expressions over the dimly lit distance between them, Jack snorted. “You seem to think I am. I’m not. Are you going to take me up on the invitation, or will you force me to be crude and blunt?”
One elegant silver and black eyebrow lifted toward Puff’s hairline. “Yes. I want you to be crude and blunt. Tell me what you want, Jackie.”
Jack sighed, making it deliberately loud. “Very well. One, could you manage to call me Jack? I’ve not been called Jackie since I left.”
Puff sipped his tea. “I think I can manage that. Now that you’re a fully grown man, can you manage my real name of Aneurin?”
Jack choked back laughter. “I can indeed, Aneurin. It fits you better, to call you the Welsh name for gold. Your golden eyes haunted my dreams for many a night.”
The dragon put the cup down with deliberate care. “You’ve been dreaming of me?”
Jack took a sip of his tea, slurping deliberately. “Yes. Dreams of you and I making love, right here on this great bloody bed of yours.”
Puff-Aneurin stared at the floor. “And you don’t mind this dream?”
“At first, I minded. Only in that I didn’t think it was right to be making love with a character from a children’s song.”
Puff chuckled. “Should have never gone to the pub and had a few pints. Told some idiot songster while I was in my cups, but retained enough sense to make it a tale.” He shrugged. “Didn’t expect the song to cross the pond.”
“Puff, er, Aneurin… sorry. That song was sung in the 1960’s before I was born.” It had always bugged him that the song was older than he by nearly a decade.
“Oh. That. I went back in time to find some good ale, not that watered down piss they sell these days. I’ve heard in America they sell it cold, much to my horror.” Aneurin grinned at his dig on Jack’s adopted home.
Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Not only was Aneurin in a better mood, he actually looked like health and energy flowed back into him. “Not the same brews, you old-fashioned dragon. It’s made to be served cold. Tastes horrid warm, I assure you.”
“Oh. Well then. That’s different. Are you going to finish telling me what you want? Or have you changed your mind?”
Jack gulped the rest of his tea, stood, and walked over to slap the empty cup beside Aneurin. He leaned forward until he was nose-to-nose with the man who’d haunted his dreams for months. “I want to drag you over to that stone couch, rip your clothes from your body, and start by tasting what lies beneath. What happens after that is by mutual consent, but I’m hoping you and I will both not sit well tomorrow. Is that clear enough?”
Aneurin’s whiskey eyes grew round. He swallowed. “Clear as rain water.”
Jack drew one hand up from Aneurin’s chest, sliding a finger up his neck until he cupped Aneurin’s chin. “I know I’m home, sleeping in my bed. I don’t care if this is a dream. I’m planning on seeing this through until the end.” His lips hovered above Aneurin’s. “Half of me hopes this isn’t a dream, and that you’re healthy enough for a little exercise.”
Aneurin leaned into his lips, making the lightest of contact. “I think we’re both dreaming, but it’s the happiest dream I’ve had since you left. The joy alone gives me the strength to go on.”
Jack closed his eyes to savor the soft brush of their lips. “You talk too much, dragon. Kiss me, and we’ll pretend this isn’t a dream.”
“You’ve gotten pushy since you grew up. I like it.” Aneurin leaned further, deepening the kiss, and pulling Jack down to sit next to him on the hearth.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1122

Ravenous by Aubrey Ross

Ravenous
by Aubrey Ross

Cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-796-1
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action/Adventure
Theme(s): Ménage, Bisexual and More, Vampires
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1119

Blurb:

Restless and frustrated by his continual isolation, Teladorian visits Station X, his favorite underground dance/sex club. Before he can connect with a willing partner, he senses a female’s distress. He’s reluctant to involve himself in matters that don’t concern him, but no one else reacts to the woman’s terror.
Sophie sneaks away to Station X for a long-awaited night of passion. Rather than her lover, Sophie is greeted by three male vampires bent on her destruction. She feels her life slipping away when a stranger bursts into the room and drives off her attackers.
One impulsive kindness lands Teladorian in the middle of a vampire clan war. Sophie is unsure who she can trust, yet fascinated by her enigmatic rescuer. Unable to ignore the volatile attraction growing between them, she allows him to hide her for a few days while they figure out who is trying to kill her.

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.

Dance music pulsed through Teladorian’s body, the sensation nearly as intoxicating as the sexually charged atmosphere of Station X. The club was exclusive and obscenely expensive, which kept unseemly altercations to a minimum.
Teladorian sat in a corner booth near the back of the bar, his features lost in shadow. His gaze assessed the crowd with predatory indifference. Undulating bodies crowded the dance floor, rubbing, pressing -- wanting. He understood their hunger, sensed their desire, and shared their restlessness.
Females wandered toward him, some unaware of their actions, others blatant with their invitations. He avoided eye contact and allowed his companion to send them away with a glare or a terse warning.
“You better make a move soon, my friend, or you’re going to cause a scene.”
Azariel’s conclusion was accurate, but Teladorian dreaded the inevitable end. He’d select a female, or two, from the eager throng and take them to the room he’d reserved upstairs. They’d fuck and he’d feed from their sexual energy until they were too exhausted to move. Then he’d muddle their memories so all they remembered was a night of sexual excess with an unremarkable man.
Meaningless. Hollow. He’d grown weary of the endless routine.
“What about the blonde?” Azariel nodded toward one of the six females who had crowded into a booth beside theirs.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Teladorian sighed. “Perhaps this can wait --”
“If you don’t feed tonight, this will be that much harder tomorrow.” Azariel chuckled. “Literally and figuratively.”
He knew his friend was right. His effect on women ran tandem to his hunger. The longer he waited to feed, the more aggressive females became. “Just once, I’d like my partner to remember me in the morning.”
“According to your mother, it will happen. You’ll find your mate, and the ‘curse’ will be broken.”
Teladorian shook his head. “My mother is hopelessly romantic. True love can’t rewrite my physiology. This hunger is a biological function, not some mystic curse.”
“Then make your choice. The candidates are growing restless.”
“They aren’t the only ones. You seem a bit…” He raised his head and stared into the distance. Fear bombarded his mind, making his heart pound and his fingers clench.
“What’s wrong?” Azariel scooted toward the edge of the booth. Tall and broad-shouldered, he transformed from friend to protector in the blink of an eye.
“I’m not sure.” Another wave of terror set Teladorian in motion. He scooted out of the booth and crept along the perimeter of the room, doing his best not to draw attention to himself.
It made no difference. Heads turned and lust spiked all around him. He tuned out the desire and focused on the fear. “Can’t you feel it?”
“You know I’m not empathic.” Azariel grasped his arm, slowing his progress and demanding his attention. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Someone’s in trouble. Serious trouble.” Twisting out of Azariel’s grasp, he headed for a staircase nestled in the opposite corner of the room. “I can sense her fear.”
“Bronstein’s security is top notch. Do we need to be involved in this?”
“Security would have responded by now if they were aware of the crisis.” Anger twisted through the fear. She was desperate to escape, determined to overcome… whatever she was battling. They took the stairs two at a time, Azariel half a step behind Teladorian. “This way.”
Nondescript doors lined the corridor, discreet number plates all that distinguished one room from another. A muffled cry confirmed their destination. Teladorian stepped back then kicked the door. The frame splintered and the door swung inward, hitting the wall with a resounding bang.
A slender woman sprawled on the bed, three male vampires bent over her writhing body. Blood made the air sharp, and fury surged through Teladorian, driving the woman’s emotions from his mind. The vampire near her head looked up, blood dripping from his fangs as he snarled. Teladorian launched an energy pulse with the wave of his hand. The vampire slammed against the far wall, his sharp cry ending in a grunt.
Azariel raised his hands and fire erupted around his fingers. The radiance intensified with overt menace along with the ferocity of his expression.
“Release her,” Teladorian snapped.
“This has nothing to do with you, demon,” one of the vampires sneered.
“We don’t see it that way.” He moved closer.
The bold vampire leapt across the bed and propelled himself at Teladorian. Azariel sent a glowing stream of energy arcing through the room, intercepting the vampire in midair. The vampire’s shirt burst into flames as he crashed to the floor. He screamed, rolling across the carpet in a frantic attempt to smother the fire.
“This isn’t over.” The remaining vampire raised his arms and all three disappeared.
Teladorian rushed to the bed, ignoring the sudden unsteadiness in his legs and the way his hands trembled. The woman lay still, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Her long hair spilled across the bedding, a hint of red shimmering through the dark strands. Delicate and pale, her features appeared doll-like, too perfect for any living being. His heart lurched at the thought and he pressed his fingers against the side of her throat.
Her eyelids flew open, her gaze burning with ravenous demand. She grabbed his arm with both hands and bit into his wrist.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1119

Dance Wars 3: Bad Moon Rising by Sophia Titheniel

Dance Wars 3: Bad Moon Rising
by Sophia Titheniel

Cover art by Reneé George
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-152-7
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal
Theme(s): Werewolves, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Dance Wars
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1120

Blurb:

The Big Bad Wolf is at the door…
It’s that time again. Mating Season. Adair can scent it, getting closer, harder to resist. Mating needs are not something he can control, not anymore than he can control his transformations, but so far, Lachlan’s been right there for him after every full moon.
But what happens when Lachlan’s not there, and Cedric, Adair’s ex-lover, the werewolf who turned him, shows up instead? Will Adair be able to resist the pull of his instincts, going against his own nature, or will he succumb to Cedric’s advances and risk everything he and Lachlan have fought to build together?






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 crowd at the Chlodwig feels wilder, crazier, more reckless than Adair remembers. It’s sawdust and sweat, crooked lamps and beeswax candles dripping on the floor. It’s hard music pumping through his veins, booze and acrid wood cutting at the edges.
Adair parts the throng easily, bodies swishing back and forth to let him pass. His mind is clear, clearer than it has been in days. His eyes focus on the corner booth where his crew is waiting for him -- Morgan, Dagan, Ezra… and Gale.
Adair’s upper lip curls, and his fists tighten at his sides. He forces his walk to keep steady, shoulders rolling back with ease as he advances on them, the thrum of the bass setting the rhythm to his steps.
His shoulders are still carved with fingernail marks, the tangible proof of Lachlan’s wildcat possessiveness spelled out all over his skin, covering him like armor. Adair can still feel him, his teeth, his lips, the heat of Lachlan’s body writhing on top of him, the strength of his arms. Everything that made Lachlan, everything that Lachlan has given him drives him on, and as he stops a few feet short of their booth, his men shuffle from sprawling to sitting up straighter, tense looks flying across the table and past half finished pints.
“Hey there.” Adair smirks, and nods towards Morgan, who immediately scoots forward to let him sit down. “How’s it going?”
For the past four weeks the tension within the group has been tangible. Adair can’t say he likes it, but at the same time he’s had too much on his mind to even try and smooth things out. Truthfully, there was a distant, dark corner of him that didn’t want to. His nerves were already stretched to breaking point with worry for Lachlan. He couldn’t deal on multiple fronts.
Ezra had been the only one daring enough to ask him “What now?” Adair has to give him his dues, it had been a pretty bold move, but then again, Ezra has always been the no nonsense one of the crew. Adair respects him enough not to lie to him, but at the same time he couldn’t very well make a decision on that in the span of a day, nor a week, or even four.
Now though. Now Adair knows his answer.
“Nothing much,” Ezra says, shrugging his shoulders. He’s got an empty whiskey glass rolling between his palms. “Crews are on the loose, seems like every scum on Earth’s drawn to the Chlodwig.”
“Nothing new with that,” Adair says, darkly amused.
Morgan nods and finishes his drink with several long gulps, not looking at Adair. He’s been very quiet lately, and if there’s one thing Adair’s sorry for, it’s putting the three of them through the nerve eating tension of the past month.
Gale… Well, Gale is a different matter altogether. Adair doesn’t give a flying fuck how much Gale squirms. The more the better. Son of a bitch is lucky his head hasn’t parted company with his shoulders by now.
To some, it might have looked like Adair has been stalling, and maybe part of that rumor had some fundaments of truth. After the raid -- Adair still can’t think of that day without a violent shiver raking down his spine -- he hadn’t said more than a few words to the four of them altogether, much less in individual convos. Adair didn’t even address Gale, as though he didn’t exist. As though the major fuck up that had been Lachlan’s capture hadn’t happened.
But it had happened, and in the aftermath, Adair’s willpower alone had prevented the crew from slipping a few paces off the top in the Dance Wars, the rehearsals frequent and punctuated by long, menacing silences. It would’ve been enough to crush any man’s nerves, but Adair couldn’t care less, his mind still wrapped around morbid, terrible thoughts as to what could’ve happened to Lachlan after he’d left him, possibly the single most stupid decision in Adair’s life.
Things have flipped around now. Now he has Lachlan back, and he’s never felt as resolute. “I thought we could spice things up a little tonight,” Adair says evenly. He can feel the four of them stiffen in their seats, and Gale’s eyes sharpening on him, but he keeps looking utterly casual, as if he’s discussing the matters around drinks. “It’s overdue, don’t you think?”
Ezra smiles, and even though Adair knows he shouldn’t give the game away, he should keep his cards close to his chest, he smiles back at him. It’s good to know he’s got at least one loyal friend. “I most surely do.”
“Good.” Adair nods and shifts on the bench to fixate his glare on Gale. “Get up.”
Gale scoffs. “Don’t see why I would want to,” he spits back, the challenge very much open.
Adair bares his teeth in a smirk. Works for him. “I’m telling you to get up.” He speaks softly, but his voice can be heard around the table even above the loud thumping of the music. “And you will get up, you useless piece of shit, unless you wanna show everyone how much of a fucking coward you are.”
The taunt does the trick. Gale stands, slamming his palms flat on the table. “Watch who you’re calling coward, you arrogant self-absorbed dick,” he seethes. “What, you’ve finally decided to grow some balls? Bring it on.”
Adair laughs under his breath. It’s a cold, chilling sound, and Morgan shifts uncomfortably at Adair’s side. “Then you shouldn’t have a problem stepping into the ring with me.”





http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1120

Elfin Delights by Alice Gaines

Elfin Delights
by Alice Gaines

Cover art by Zuri
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-169-5
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Ménage, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Length: Novella

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1121

Blurb:

When Marla Roberts gets lost in the Northern California redwood forest, she doesn’t expect to find a gingerbread cottage inhabited by two hunky males with pointy ears and flaming red hair. They’re elves, they tell her, and so is she. She soon discovers that an elfin ménage offers sensual treats she’d never find in the human world. What’s more… if she passes all their tests, they have an even bigger reward for her.






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.

Somewhere about a mile back, Marla Roberts had taken a left turn into LaLa Land. Her cell phone and GPS didn’t work in this part of the woods. She knew that much, even if she didn’t have the first clue where she was. And now, it appeared she was driving in circles. She passed the same gingerbread-y cottage three times now. Even if there were more than one example of post-Grimm architecture in the northern California forest, they wouldn’t all stand snuggled up to the base of that particularly huge redwood.
No, she’d been this way before -- more than once. She might as well admit the truth. She’d never find her way back to Mendocino without asking for help.
She got out of her car, opened the gate in the gingerbread-y fence, and followed the gravel path to the tiny porch. Something made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she went. A feeling that someone was watching her. How utterly clichéd and patently bogus at the same time. What did she expect -- a witch with a wicked-big oven? She’d knock on the door. Someone would answer. She’d get directions and head back to civilization. End of story.
She climbed the step and crossed the porch. Before she could knock, the door opened. A man stood on the other side of the threshold.
And, what a man. He was as unusual as he was drop-dead gorgeous. He had hair so red it must have glowed in the dark. Orange-red, red-red. Screaming red. Match that with moss green eyes and… what the heck?… pointy ears, and he looked like a creature that might hide under a toadstool, except for one thing. He stood well over six feet and had shoulders so broad they nearly touched the doorjamb on both sides.
His gaze traveled over her, and he smiled. “Nice.”
“I’m sorry. I know I’m staring.”
He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”
“I’m lost,” she said. “Can you tell me how to get back to the main highway?”
“You’re not lost. You’re right where you’re supposed to be.” He turned and went back into the cottage.
“Excuse me?”
“Come on in,” he called from inside.
She stuck her head over the threshold and looked around. If she’d expected the witch’s cottage, she could have thought again. This was more like a bachelor pad. Very neat but a bachelor pad, nevertheless. One end served as the kitchen with a butcher-block workspace, six burner gas range, and gleaming stainless steel appliances. A sitting area filled the other end, dominated by a huge flat-screen television. The center section held nothing but an enormous bed. All of this stuff would hardly fit in her house. How could a tiny cottage hold it all?
She ducked outside and glanced from one end of the structure to the other. Tiny. She checked out the interior again. Not tiny.
“Are you going to stand out there all day?” the man said.
She crossed the threshold and took a few steps inside. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?” The man opened the refrigerator and stared inside. She started to say something, but nothing that came to mind made any sense. Everything about this guy and his place was strange, but she could hardly say that without insulting him. “Never mind.”





http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1121

HOT FLASH!--Fantasy Unit 269 by Ann Vremont

Fantasy Unit 269
by Ann Vremont

cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-160-2
Genre(s): Futuristic, Hot Flashes, Sci-Fi
Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1088

Blurb:

Wearing a Fantasy Unit costume to a friend’s Halloween party was meant as a practical joke poking fun at Vance Gemini, the one guy immune from every living girl’s charms. But Morgan Macy looks a little too much like the “real” thing in her pink latex dress and vid mask and is forced to head home for a costume change before she even gets to the party. Seeking a quick and efficient retreat on the NYC subway, she finds herself on an empty platform with a masculine, all-too-familiar voice ordering her to halt.

Really, FU269…what’s your major malfunction?

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.

Morgan Macy exited the metro lift swatting at the hand of the impertinent male who had just pinched her butt. “It’s just a costume, you fuckhead.”Reaching up to the side of her face, she tried again to remove the mask she had on. The pins securing it in place tore at her hair, making her eyes water. “Fucking defective Martian piece of shit!”

She’d have to wear it all the way back to her studio apartment in the Bronx. She glanced up and made sure she was on the right platform. She’d hopped blue line from Cathedral to 168th every workday for the last three years, but never with a damn Fantasy Unit mask obscuring her vision. She’d be lucky if she didn’t step off the platform and onto the track the way her night was going.

Pulling out her vid phone, she hit the fast connect to her Endscape account and streamed video of her upper body clad in the face mask and pink latex dress of a Fantasy Unit. “Halloween 2169. Epic fail. This is Morgan Macy… over and out.”

Walking toward the far end of the platform, she hit “send,” broadcasting the video to the inner circle of her Endscape account, and then slid the phone into the dress’s only pocket. Stepping close to one of the train monitors, she growled. The sign either said fifteen or eighteen minutes until the next train. Either was too goddamn long if the platform started filling up with drunks while she was dressed like this.

Somewhere behind her, a masculine voice ordered, “Wait!”

Morgan didn’t stop. She’d only made it halfway from her office to Tina’s costume party before being accosted by every male looking for a fast fuck with an unengaged pleasure droid. But something about the voice, or the way the platform’s acoustics familiarized it, slowed her pace.

“FU 269, halt.”

FU 269 -- the letters and numbers were emblazoned across her ass, big and black in the exact fashion of a real pleasure droid’s calling card. This wasn’t the first male voice calling out her costume’s unit number tonight -- just the first one she seemed to recognize and it made her feel like the floor had just dropped from under her feet.

That is, if karma really was a bitch and the voice ordering her to halt really did belong to Vance Gemini, one of the spreadsheet jockeys from the investment house Tina worked at. Only this one didn’t like to date real women with all their “complications.” The chance to offer him a little good- (or ill-) natured mocking at Tina’s party had been half the reason she’d selected the costume.

Of course, that brilliant plan had certainly turned around and pinched her in the ass.“FU 269, I said ‘halt.’ Are you malfunctioning?”

The question stopped her dead in her tracks. She waited, running through what she would say when he discovered his mistake. He was supposed to see her like this at the party, where he’d know it was a costume and only have to solve the mystery of just which one of Tina’s friends had poured herself into a pleasure droid’s uniform. Not that there was any guarantee he’d be curious once he found out the mask and “uniform” shielded a real live girl.

Ordering her to turn around, Vance -- or someone who sounded just like him -- repeated the question.

The costume had come with its own guide on Fantasy Unit etiquette. She turned, submissive, as if waiting for the would-be client to transmit his preferences. Keeping her gaze on the ground, she answered in a soft as silk voice, “Yes.”

The man put his finger under her chin and lifted until he was looking directly at her masked face.

Yep, karma is a bitch.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1088

Weary Memories Collection by Elizabeth Jewell

Weary Memories (Collection)
by Elizabeth Jewell

Cover art by Karen Fox
ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-159-6
Genre(s): Paranormal, Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Vampires, Gay and Lesbian
Series: Memories
Length: Collection

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1116

Blurb:

Sexually abused by his father as a child, Alex finds healing in the last place he would expect -- in the arms of his vampire boss, Liam. Abused himself by the female vampire who turned him, Liam has his own healing to accomplish. But when mutual healing becomes mutual respect -- and love -- both must face and overcome the specters of the past to find their way to each other in the present.

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.

Morning is near, and Liam is asleep again. Alex walks into the bedroom, drawing in the scent. It's an odd smell -- a man smell, but different, with acidic hints he supposes have to do with Liam's vampiric nature. Odd, but not repulsive.
He breathes it for a moment, dimly wondering if it could arouse him. And of course as soon as he thinks that, he feels the pressure begin, feels the blood flowing, tingling.
He steps farther into the room. Liam lies on his back, and Alex can tell he's naked under the blankets. He wonders briefly why Liam bothers with blankets, since vampires don't really generate any body heat.
But he knows he's thinking that so he won't have to think about the rest of it -- what he's about to do.
He sits on the bed. Liam rolls lazily to his right side, turning his back to Alex. The movement startles Alex a little, probably because Liam had been so still before he'd moved. But he's still asleep.
Hesitant, he reaches out, lets his fingers brush Liam's shoulder. His skin is firm and cool. Not cold, but cool. He knows this, of course -- he's touched Liam before -- but this is different.
Has he wanted this? He thinks perhaps he has, maybe since he met Liam, or since the night Liam saved his life the first time.
He flattens his hand against the wing of the vampire's shoulder blade, feeling the flat, wide bone. Liam stirs under his touch. Alex starts to draw away, but stops himself and instead lets his fingers trail around the curve of Liam's shoulder as Liam rolls over.
"Alex?" His eyes are bleary; he's not quite awake.
Alex says nothing. He doesn't really know what to say. Liam blinks at him dully as Alex watches his own hand move across Liam's chest, until he touches a flat, pink nipple.
"Alex?" Liam says again, but his tone is different now. Surprised. Confused.
"I want you to show me," Alex says. "I want you to show me how it can be good."
Clarity begins to seep into Liam's eyes. Alex's finger sits there still, just against the nub of Liam's nipple.
"Can you do that?" Alex says.
Liam clears his throat. He's frowning now. "Are you sure?"
Alex has come prepared for this question. Now he lifts his other hand, shows Liam what it holds. Liam watches as Alex lays the tube of K-Y on the bed. "I'm sure. I want this to go away. The pain. Change it into something else."
Liam's eyes seem to look deep into him, evaluating, judging, reading things Alex doesn't even know are there. Then, slowly, he nods.
Alex doesn't know if he's relieved or afraid when Liam's hand lifts to cover his. Liam's fingers trace his, and suddenly Alex realizes something.
Liam's not going to fuck him. Liam's going to make love to him.




http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1116