Changeling Press

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Caveat Emptor: Determined Lover
by Zenobia Renquist

Cover art: Marteeka Karland
BIN: 05536-01773
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Interracial/MultiCultural, Vampires, Magic
Series: Caveat Emptor (#6)
Length: Novella
Page Count: 46

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1773

Blurb:
Medusa and Darius have escaped with their lives, but to where? The location is an unknown, like their relationship. After nearly two hundred years apart, Darius is ready to move forward, but Medusa cannot reconcile her present self with the past she purposefully forgot. Medusa must decide if dealing with the pain of her past is a fair price for loving the man who would be her future.
Excerpt:
Caveat Emptor: Determined Lover
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Zenobia Renquist

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

His breath was coming too fast... panting. She could barely feel his heart beating beneath her hand where it rested on his chest. His lean, muscled body was wracked with visible pain. Medusa knew Darius was dying despite his earlier denials.
She wouldn't let that happen. They had been reunited after nearly two centuries apart. Medusa had never thought such a thing possible, but she hadn't known about Darius's immortality. Or perhaps he wasn't immortal when they met. Whatever the case may be, his immortality hadn't come with invulnerability. The spell he'd cast to help them escape death at the hands of his cohorts had stressed his body to the breaking point.
Medusa had to save his life before she could think about reveling in their renewed relationship. Only a few things kept her from acting. First, neither of them had any clothing since they had fled capture after a round of getting re-acquainted sex. Second, Darius's escape spell had landed them on the side of a very high mountain with no path down. Medusa could jump it, but not with Darius in tow. She couldn't use a magical transport spell either. Transporting without knowing where she was or where she wanted to go had its own dangers, but the strain of more magic running through Darius's body might kill him.
That left the cave at their back as shelter against the elements and possible attack. She glanced over her shoulder at the wide opening of the cave. Her vampiric sight, able to pierce any darkness, couldn't make out the back of the cave, which meant it was deep. She couldn't tell if it was inhabited.
Darius wheezed before coughing. His cough had a watery sound and a coppery smell. He had blood in his lungs. She smoothed her hand through his kitten-soft hair in a soothing gesture. The motion calmed her as much as him. She loved petting his hair and watching the light shimmer off the scattered strands of blond and red combined with the brown. She wouldn't lose him.
Medusa didn't have time to worry about what dangers the cave held. She could handle any animal, no matter how big. She needed to get Darius to a safe, secure spot so she could help him recover.
She lifted him against her chest and rushed inside the cave.
"I should be carrying you," Darius whispered. He tried to laugh but it came out as a cough instead.
"You need to shut up and save your strength."
He grunted but didn't try to speak again.
Medusa carried him to the depths of the cave. It went back a fair distance. Good. That meant she would see any intruders long before they saw her. She expected Darius's cohorts any second. There was no way the mages would pass up recapturing an escaped vampire and a mage traitor.
Low growling from an animal stopped Medusa. She placed Darius on the ground behind her, propped against the cave wall, and then faced the oversized lump ahead of her -- the one she had mistaken for a rock a moment ago. It unfolded itself into a very large, very grumpy bear.
"Medusa."
"Quiet. I'll deal with this and then help you." She stayed close to the wall as she paced forward. A quick snap of her metal ring-covered, floor-length dreadlocks near the bear's head would frighten the animal into running from the cave.
She turned her head in a quick jerk while adding a small telekinetic push with her hand so one lock would hit the bear. Except it didn't. Her hair waved forward as though pushed by a breeze and then settled against her side once more. The usual sound of metal links clashing against one another was absent. That was when Medusa remembered her haircut at the time of her capture. The mage holding her had sheared off her hair at the roots and had taken great delight doing it.
The hair grew back in a matter of seconds, resuming its rope-like style as it grew, but the metal links she used to adorn her hair, turning it into twenty lethal chains the use of which she had honed over the last two hundred years, were gone. She had to come up with another method to deal with the bear, who had only grown more agitated with her movements.
She had vampiric speed and strength as well as sight in the inky darkness of the cave, but she didn't want to hurt the bear, only convince him to leave. Maybe a show of power would do it...
She rushed the bear. He smacked her with his paw, and she let the blow knock her to the ground. It was her turn to grunt when he brought his front legs down on her shoulders. The attack might have crushed a mortal, but she hadn't been mortal in a very long time. Sick as the bear was, she could easily have overpowered him, but instead she let him think he was winning.
He went for her neck, ready to rip her throat out, but she grabbed him in a tight hug. His teeth sank into her shoulder as he tried to pull free. She ignored that pain to see her plan through.
The bear had tasted her blood. She knew what that meant for a human -- a mental connection between them, and for the human, longer life, faster healing, and enhanced strength and speed. She only hoped the same held true for other mammals. "Hear me and understand."
The bear stilled. Medusa could smell fear again, but she didn't have time to reassure him. He could understand her. That was all she needed to know.
She loosened her hold. "Let me up."
He released her and jumped back.
She sat up and held her hand out to him. "You didn't hurt me. I did that so you could understand me." She wiggled her fingers at him. "Come here."
He looked at her one way and then the other before stepping forward so she could touch his head.
"Good boy. Good boy. You're a big, beautiful bear, aren't you?" She smiled when the bear grunted. "My friend and I only need shelter. That's all. We didn't mean to disturb you. Can we stay?"
She smiled when he licked her hand.
"Thank you." She gave his head a pat and then turned her attention back to Darius.
His was another heartbeat that didn't sound steady. Unlike the bear, she couldn't feed Darius her blood. Renewed relationship or not, he was still a mage. He might have helped her escape and professed to love her, but that love might not extend to sharing blood with a vampire. Besides, she had something better to share.
She returned to him and knelt at his side. "Darius?"
His odd eyes -- one blue and one brown -- looked at her, but they were unfocused. He tried to speak, but she covered his lips with her finger. She smiled when he kissed her finger.
"You aren't healing. You need power. Take it from me." She placed his hand over her left breast, above her heart.
Darius rasped, "Such beautiful breasts." His fingers twitched as though he would have squeezed the small yet pert mound but he didn't have that much strength.
"Yes, they're lovely. Now take the energy you need."
"Kill you. No." He pulled at his hand, but she held him.
"It won't kill me. I can die one hundred mortal deaths and still be fine. Take my energy, damn it. I won't lose you again. You said you wouldn't die. Have the centuries turned you into a liar?"
Darius sucked in a breath as he closed his eyes.
She thought he was breathing his last until she felt it. His power. He drew on her life force, pulling the energy through her body and into his own. The more he took, the better he got, but the weaker she felt.
The world turned fuzzy and then black. She really hated mortal death. She liked to avoid it at all costs. Only for Darius would she endure it this time.

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1773

Dark Reign-- Atonement by Mychael Black

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 01:25:00 +0000

Dark Reign: Atonement
by Mychael Black

Cover art: Reneé George
BIN: 05542-01775
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, Werewolves, Gay
Series: Dark Reign (#3)
Length: Novella
Page Count: 38

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1775

Blurb:
Marcus Deleon has spent most of his life saving his fellow weres from the hands of his ex-lover, the vampire Dalton Gray. Now he's facing an all-out war after one of his Enforcers kills several of Gray's guards. The allies he has to rely on can be counted on one hand until unexpected help arrives, bearing the fragile body of an injured were child and inside knowledge into Gray's operations.

Excerpt:
Dark Reign: Atonement
Mychael Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Mychael Black

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

Jordan winced with the impact, but he didn't struggle against the werewolf's grip around his throat. The man tightened the hold, claws threatening to pierce Jordan's skin.
From one set of captors into the hands of another. "Deleon. I need to speak to Deleon!" Jordan had expected a cold reception, but he hadn't realized just how strong the wolves were.
"Who are you?"
Despite the hand at his neck, Jordan glanced over to his right. A tall, muscular figure stepped out of the shadows. His long coat obscured his body. When the hood fell back, Jordan could only stare. He'd seen many werewolves in his lifetime, but none quite matched the allure of the man before him.
Jet black hair fell over broad shoulders, and the sharp features of the man's face held no flaws whatsoever. Where Jordan was slim and lithe, this man was nothing but pure muscle. Jesus...
"He asked you a question," the brute with the iron fist growled, snapping Jordan's attention back to the matter at hand. "Answer or..."
"Release him, Vaughn."
"Of course." The brute -- Vaughn, apparently -- stepped back, letting Jordan fall to his knees on the filthy alley pavement.
"You are not one of us." The man in the coat crouched down before Jordan. "You are one of them."
"Jordan Silva." Jordan coughed. He glared at Vaughn, then looked back to the man before him. "I was told to find Deleon."
"Why?"
Jordan gestured to the rusted door a few feet farther down the alley. Vaughn headed for the door and jerked it open. Jordan looked back at the man in front of him. "I was told Deleon could help her."
"Marcus!"
The man -- Marcus -- stood and joined Vaughn. A moment later, they emerged from the doorway, the young girl in Vaughn's arms. Jordan prayed the man was gentle with her. Marcus returned to Jordan, surprising Jordan by offering him a hand up.
"Come with us."
"What? Marcus, he's a vampire!" Vaughn snapped, shooting Jordan a scowl that would've curdled a human's blood.
"Take her home, Vaughn. Tia will look after her."
Vaughn snorted but obeyed without further question. Marcus sighed.
"You must forgive him. He has a strong dislike for your kind."
"After what I've seen, I would too," Jordan said.
Marcus lifted one dark eyebrow. "Why did you leave Gray? Why risk your life for one of ours?"
Jordan stared at a point over Marcus' shoulder. "Working for Gray wasn't exactly by choice. I was ordered to kill her, but I couldn't. I need to speak to Deleon."
"Come. I'm sure he will very much like to hear what you have to say."
Jordan followed Marcus a short distance to a sprawling house surrounded by a tall security fence. Marcus keyed in a series of numbers on the keypad, and the gate unlocked. Jordan didn't see any sign of Vaughn or the girl, and he hoped to the gods she was okay now.
"The others will not take well to a vampire being in our midst," Marcus warned as he led the way up a long driveway. "So long as you stay with me, you will be safe, however."
The front door looming before them opened and Jordan stepped in behind Marcus. The house felt deathly still. Jordan knew the wolves watched him from shadows. Marcus continued down a hall and stopped before another door. He opened it and waved Jordan inside.
"I really need to see Deleon."
Marcus sat behind a dark wood desk, feet propped on the edge, chair tipped back. "So speak."
Jordan sat down, mouth dropping open. "You..." Marcus nodded. "I know this is all suspicious, but I'm here to help."
"Why would a vampire -- one of Dalton's vampires -- help us?" Marcus stood, his chair hitting the floor with a loud bang. Hands braced on the desk, he leaned over and glared at Jordan. "Your kind has done nothing but treat us as slaves. Gray has stolen our people, killed countless others. What the fuck do you want?"
"I know what he's doing," Jordan answered. "And I know where."
Marcus' dark blue eyes narrowed. "What's in it for you?"
"Redemption."

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1775

The Chosen: Ukko's Discovery by Shara Azod

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

The Chosen: Ukko's Discovery
by Shara Azod

Cover art: Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-768-0
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense, Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Magic, Dark Desire
Series: The Chosen (#1)
Length: Novella
Page Count: 34

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1760

Blurb:
Ukko is a general of the Spentas. He fears nothing, backs down from nothing, questions nothing -- until he finds something he can't explain. Who is this mysterious female with powers equal to his? Who sent her? What is her purpose? And the most important question of all -- why doesn't he care about any of that?
Excerpt:
The Chosen: Ukko's Discovery
Shara Azod
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Shara Azod

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.

Nimah was in awe of the blond giant of a man she had gone to San Diego to find. A normal woman might have been freaked out to open her eyes and find herself deep in the heart of Finland. But when had her life ever been normal? She wished like hell she could answer his question, but the problem was she had no idea what she was. She just knew she was different. Always had been. A woman with no family, no history, no idea where she came from or why she could do the things she could. Her entire life she had known only one thing for sure -- one day she would meet this man, and she was meant to be here, in his arms.
Since puberty Nimah had dreamed of him. Ukko of Finland had been the number one constant in her life while all else had been transient. Abandoned at birth, she'd been raised in a series of foster and group homes until she'd turned eighteen. That was when she became aware of three very important things. The first was that she was very different from everyone around her. Her abilities were akin to something seen in a sci-fi movie. She'd had to hide all the things she could do from others all her life. Until now.
The second thing she'd been aware of since puberty was that one day she would meet this man, Ukko, and the gaping hole in the center of her soul would be filled. It made no sense in the conventional way of thinking, but Nimah had always known him. She had seen bits and pieces of his entire existence, an existence that spanned longer than recorded time.
The third thing that had been a constant in her life was the unseen threat always hovering in the shadows. Until tonight she'd never seen those who watched, constantly looking for her and others like her. She didn't know how she knew there were others, but she was as certain of it as she was that Ukko belonged to her, that she belonged to him.
If she wanted to she could will herself back to San Diego right this second. That was the last thing she wanted to do. Honestly, she hadn't wanted to run from him earlier, either. Even though Nimah had dreamed of Ukko, she'd never been able to find him. There was never enough detail in her dreams or visions to pinpoint his location until yesterday, when his location popped into her consciousness, followed by a burning need to go to him. It took nothing to be there; she'd simply closed her eyes and willed herself there. She'd left everything behind just for a chance to finally meet him.
But things went horribly wrong. The homeless man she'd helped seemed to call out to her. In some odd way he was important to her and her future. His mind had been so befuddled, a darkness clouding the thoughts trying to push through -- he wanted to tell her something. He was there for her, and Ukko. Generally she never took the chance to showcase any of her abilities. The unseen threat could find her like that. There was always a cold chill that warned her of their nearness -- a shadow that smelled of pure evil warned her to flee whenever she used any of her gifts.
Nimah had felt the moment Ukko spotted her. His disbelief at what he was seeing as she healed the homeless man, his confusion and suspicion, bombarded her like physical blows. As much as her body and soul cried out for him, her first impulse had been to run. It had been so hard to even think! Her pussy creamed, aching with every step. She wanted to stop and run into his arms, but she just couldn't.
So she'd run from him. Too intent on getting away from the man she wanted desperately but was suddenly unsure of, she'd missed the internal warning hardwired in her brain to disappear whenever an all-too-familiar chill raced down her spine. Their sudden appearance threw her. Expecting hideous, monstrous creatures, she was completely unprepared for the beautiful evil that tried to touch her.
Everything within her had rebelled at the wrongness of their touch. Repelling them had been remarkably easy, but Nimah knew without really knowing that it had been Ukko's presence that enabled her to create the energy that felled them. Then why was it that Ukko, who she knew instinctively was far more powerful than she, could not do as she had done?
"What are you, woman?" Ukko demanded yet again, crushing her body to him. He looked so deliciously furious. Confused and turned on at the same time. Even with his lips pressed into a tight line, they looked so amazingly kissable. Proof of his desire pressed insistently against her. She didn't mean to rub up against it, not really. The sharp tug on her hair in response made her moan, her nipples hardening against his chest.
"I'm yours." The words came out in a whisper of their own will. Nimah didn't expect for them to be received very well. What kind of a man wanted some random woman declaring herself to be his, despite the bizarre circumstances of this entire situation?
In response, his lips crushed hers this time. This kiss was as possessive as the first had been passionate. As if to confirm her statement, Ukko took everything, leaving her panting and breathless before abruptly stepping away. "You are no human woman." Nimah had no idea what he meant by that. As far as she knew she was human. Wasn't she? "You say you are mine, prove it."
"What -- what do you mean?" Her heart thundered in her chest. Had she been wearing underwear, they would have been sodden by now. Her jeans felt abrasive against the bare skin of her cunt. She had prepared for this.
With a wave of his hand, her clothing tore apart, falling at her feet. Though she knew he could have easily disrobed himself in a similar way, he stood fully clothed, his hands going to the fastening of his pants.
"Kneel, Nimah. Show me how much you are mine."

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1760

Fallen by Megan Slayer

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Fallen
by Megan Slayer

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-759-8
Genre(s): Paranormal, Dark Fantasy, BDSM
Theme(s): Dark Desire
Length: Novella

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1755

Blurb:
Livia was cast out of heaven for the crime of falling in love with a human. So what's a fallen angel to do when she meets the man of her dreams? Falling certainly has its perks.
Ty didn't expect the angel at his party to be fallen or to have a murky past. He also didn't expect her to end up in his arms. Now he's not about to let the past stand in the way of their future.
Excerpt:
Fallen
Megan Slayer
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Megan Slayer

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

Parties are so lame.
Livia crossed her arms and stared at the people swaying before her. Hard rock blasted from the speakers and rumbled the floor. She flicked a lock of her hair over her shoulder. Dancing, laughing, and more than enough drinking. She sighed. When was the last time she'd danced and laughed? Hell. She couldn't remember.
She wanted to dance, to wrap her arms around a torso thick with muscle, to rest her head on a taut set of pecs and hear the heartbeat of a red-blooded male like the one she'd drooled over in her history course. He'd mentioned throwing an event. She wanted to see him, to see if he was actually like the persona she'd created for him in her mind.
She snorted. Meeting a guy was probably not the best reason to attend a costume party off campus, but who cared? It wasn't like she had anyone keeping tabs on her.
A young man dressed as a gladiator ambled toward her. "Hel-lo, beautiful." A wide grin curled his lips. His blond hair flopped over his brow as he winked and pointed to her with his sloshing cup. "You shouldn't stand in the corner alone. Might get your wings dirty."
Wings? She crooked one brow. She'd come as a Madonna look-alike, not an angel. When she glanced over her shoulder, sure enough, her wings were there -- translucent, but there. Odd. "They'll wash." Her wings had been ripped off over two thousand years prior. When - and how -- the hell had they come back?
"Yeah?" He wobbled on his feet. "Feathers work in a washing machine?" He burped and his dark eyes widened. "I made a funny." He swayed again and splashed beer onto her bustier.
Livia gritted her teeth. This wasn't the man she had in mind. Her dream man didn't slop alcohol on anyone -- as far as she knew. Was the man in her mind simply a figment of her imagination? An impossibility? Probably. She'd been around far too long and seen more than her share of good men fall by the wayside.
At least washing the beer stench out of her clothes wouldn't be too difficult.
"So, do ya wanna go make out?" He licked his lips. "I'm a great kisser, and I bet you do wonders with those tits."
"Go home, Brett."
Livia's blood turned to fire in her veins. The deep, gravelly voice set her nerves on edge. If the drunken fool would just blow, she could at least see the guy who'd come to her aid. If he was Tyler from history class, then even better.
"Butt out, Ty." Brett smacked his lips. "We were gonna have sex. Me and those lovelies." He reached out, hands hovering over her chest. "Come to Brett. Again."
Again? Who was this clown? "I wouldn't have sex with you if you were the last man alive," Livia snapped and slapped his hands away. "You spilled beer on me, and you're an ass."
"You'd know." He swayed into her personal space and murmured in a much less slurred tone, "I never forgot you."
Never forgot her? What the hell was this guy drinking? She stared at the drunken gladiator. Nothing about him really stood out. Still, at her age, everything looked a little familiar. He couldn't possibly be him. Isaiah was dead. She'd seen him die over three centuries ago.
"Okay, time for Brett to go home. I don't want shit on my carpet, and she's not interested." The owner of the deep voice stepped out from behind Livia and grabbed Brett's arms. Her jaw dropped. This man was the man. The man. Tyler Wilson embodied her innermost desires, and he was right there protecting her.
Lean muscle filled out Ty's tall frame. What would it feel like to have his hands on her body? To run her fingers through his thick, dark hair and listen to him murmur dirty things as they explored each other's bodies -- what would it be like? A flash of bodies moving together and the look of sheer lust in his blue eyes filled her mind. Oh, good God, it would be almost heaven. Her pussy clenched and liquid heat coated her panties.
If he felt the heat, too. She couldn't hope to be so lucky again. The run-in with Brett or whoever he was had served as a cold reminder of what she'd fallen for and couldn't have.
Both men moved through the throng of people and disappeared. She should stick around and find out if Ty was interested or if he was just keeping an eye on his property. Not that she could blame him. Dumped beer could be murder on a sound system. Not that her opinion mattered much. She was just a partygoer like everyone else there. She folded her arms. Every moment she waited, her conscience ate into her a little more. Waiting made her look weak. It made her look needy. Was she needy?
Maybe. Damn.
No. She'd waited long enough. If he really wanted to talk to her, he'd have come back. She turned and made her way to the apartment door and rummaged through the pile of coats, looking for hers. Guys like Ty had women chasing them in swarms. She'd been witness to that every time she walked out of the Saunders Building. She wasn't going to follow him around like a damned puppy. Coat in hand, she turned toward the door. She plowed into a scantily clad tiger giggling with a cowboy.
"Watch it," the tiger snapped. "Nice wings, though. Costume outlet, or did you get them online? I've been looking for some just like them. I want a set. Michael, buy me some like that."
Livia rolled her eyes. The truth was much too involved. Obscure always worked. "I don't remember."
The cowboy tipped his hat. "Wanna join in?" He bobbed his brows, and his gaze went straight to her chest. "We're always looking for more, and looking at those boobs, you'd be one hell of a third."
"Michael! You said I was the only one," she squealed. "No more thirds."
Michael shrugged. "Can't blame me for asking." He turned his attention back to Livia. "You in?"
If they only knew what she'd done during her lifetime. "I'm good. No thanks." Livia ducked her head and stepped out into the hallway. She didn't look up until she hit the stairwell door.
Finally. Freedom.
Livia stopped on the landing and stared up at the sky through the round stairwell window. Her heart ached. He was out there somewhere. The one man to complete her. Was he still alive? Had she'd only imagined his death? Or was she doomed to walk the Earth for the rest of eternity, alone?
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. It was foolish to pine for the assumed dead, especially when they'd parted so badly. Still, Isaiah held her heart and her life in his hands, just as he'd had for the last couple thousand years.
Footsteps thumped behind her, but she didn't bother to look up.
"Angel?"
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1755

Dragonfire: Chosen by BJ McCall

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Dragonfire: Chosen
by B.J. McCall

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-744-4
Genre(s): Action Adventure/ Suspense, Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: Dragonfire
Length: Novella

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1758

Blurb:
A thousand years ago, two dragon clans went to war over a cache of gold. To end the war a sorcerer hid the gold and foretold of the birth of a female bearing the mark of the dragon.
Born with a dragon on her hip, Karis Nordrath is the chosen and because the mark she's been guarded all of her life. According to legend the location of the gold will be revealed when the chosen is bonded with her dragon mate, but the only dragon that stirs Karis' fire is bodyguard, Rett Aurumon.
Rett left the Fire Mountains to follow a wanderlust he couldn't explain until he laid eyes on Karis. Hired as her bodyguard, Rett doesn't know if his true role is protector or mate. He doesn't know Karis is the chosen, but he knows she's the one.
Excerpt:
Dragonfire: Chosen
B.J. McCall
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 B.J. McCall

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

Rett Aurumon stood in the front foyer of Gaden Hazac's apartment waiting for his client. He walked to the end of the foyer, careful not to step into the spacious living room of glass, chrome and leather. The room had all the warmth of the man who lived within its pale gray walls.
Barefoot and wearing a pair of black sweats, Hazac entered the living room. "She'll be ready shortly. Her hair was mussed."
The tone of the lawyer's voice and his lack of clothing got the point across. Hazac wanted Rett to know he and Miss Nordrath had had sex. Rett had often wondered why the man felt it necessary to make this point to a bodyguard. Rett liked his job and his growing feelings for the woman he was hired to protect were disturbing, but he was certain of one thing. He disliked Gaden Hazac. "Thank you, Mr. Hazac."
The lawyer walked over to a wet bar and poured himself a drink. Then Hazac turned his back on Rett and stared out the window at the city skyline.
Rett hadn't expected his client's boyfriend to engage him in conversation, and he'd never been invited into the living area of the apartment. He didn't mind remaining in the foyer without benefit of restroom or a drink of water. The job required hours of tedious waiting. At least Rett didn't have to listen to Hazac and his client making love.
The driver called to tell Rett the armored vehicle was in front of the building. Rett disconnected and his client entered the living room. Her dark gold hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders. She wore a bright blue blouse that complemented her eyes and a gray skirt that accentuated her trim figure. Rett longed to let his gaze drift slowly down her shapely legs to the high heels she wore, but he kept his focus.
Hazac hustled to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Hey, baby." When Hazac leaned down to kiss her, Miss Nordrath turned so that his lips brushed her cheek. She looked at Rett. "Is the car ready?"
"Waiting out front, Miss Nordrath."
His client stepped back, extricating herself from Hazac. "Goodnight, Gaden."
"I'll call you tomorrow," Hazac said.
Rett opened the front door and checked the hallway. As he escorted his client out of the apartment, Rett glanced at Hazac. "Goodnight, Mr. Hazac."
The lawyer glared at him, then downed his drink.
When they reached the elevator, Rett pushed the call button. "Did you have a nice evening, Miss Nordrath?"
She sighed. "Not one of my best."
They stepped into the empty elevator. "Are you headed home, Miss?"
"Yes, thank you."
As the car descended, Rett took advantage of the private moment to admire his client. She was twenty-seven, stunningly beautiful, with a generous smile and a musical laugh. Her features were delicate, her pale golden skin was flawless, her neck graceful, her breasts nicely rounded, her waist trim, her ass perfect and her legs long.
And the dreams she wrought were making his nights pure agony.
She glanced at him and smiled. Rett was sure she'd caught him looking, but was saved by the loud ding of the elevator bell, announcing they'd descended to the lobby floor. The doors opened. Rett stepped out first and checked the building's foyer before his client exited the car.
He repeated the security check as they exited the building.
"Rett, why don't you call me Karis?"
Because I need the reminder that I'm just an employee.
"I'm following instructions, Miss."
"My father's instructions? You have my permission to call me Karis."
"Thank you, Miss."
He opened the back door of the Nordrath vehicle. Karis' car was heavily armored with a trained driver at the wheel. Rett rarely left her side. She climbed into the vehicle, then looked up at Rett and grinned. "You're not going to do it, are you?"
He grinned back. "No, Miss."
Rett shut the heavy door. He'd never say it out loud, but that wouldn't stop him from thinking of her as Karis.
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Star Prince by Ashlynn Monroe

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Star Prince
by Ashlynn Monroe

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-758-1
Genre(s): Futuristic, Action Adventure/ Suspense, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Dark Desire, Alternative Universe
Length: Novella
Page Count: 81

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1762

Blurb:
Tasmin Robins has worked hard to earn her coveted diplomatic internship on the mysterious imperial world of Aurora. Driven and smart, though occasionally impulsive, Tas has a ten-year plan -- and it doesn't include love.
When Tasmin risks her life to save a stranger, she has no idea her sacrifice will leave her fate entwined with the most powerful man on Aurora -- DeMarcus Le'JeMur, Prince of the Stars and Ruler Of The Seven Kingdoms, ruler of the planets under Aurorian control.
When DeMarcus impulsively declares he owes Tasmin a life debt, she must convince the Imperial Council to grant them both their freedom. But after a night of erotic delights with the sexy alien, will she be able to let him go?
Excerpt:
Star Prince
Ashlynn Monroe
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Ashlynn Monroe

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.

"Stay down!" Tasmin Robins pulled the man at her side behind the large refuse bin. He was wearing a baseball cap pulled low on his face and sunglasses, hiding his expression.
Screams from her fellow humans made the usually quiet terminal chaotic. Glistening metallic and marble surfaces usually made the shuttle port's loading dock feel orderly and sterile in an utterly comforting way, reminding her of her home back on Earth. Now the shining surfaces reflected laser fire from a source she couldn't pinpoint.
Ball cap guy tried to stand up again. Her hand was small, but she managed to snag a substantial handful of his oversized blue sweatshirt. She yanked sharply, pulling him back down. His faded blue jeans made a small tearing sound as the rip over his right knee widened.
"Je'L afremtal," he cursed in a language she hadn't expected to hear.
"You aren't from Earth. Why are you here? These ships are for Earth Embassy personnel only." Tasmin did her best to stop glaring at the interloper. He wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last, to try to score a free ride to Earth.
"You know nothing." With his heavily accented comment, he managed to convey a rude superiority she found instantly irritating.
"I know you're going about visiting my home planet the wrong way. It's gotten a lot easier to get a visa now. Only a criminal would need to sneak onboard an embassy flight," Tasmin hissed.
She paused, her eyes round and her mouth forming a subtle Ohh. "Are they shooting at you, specifically?" she whispered, hearing the horror in her own voice upon realizing she was hiding from an unseen gunman with his probable target.
"Yes, but not because I am criminal." The man's English was good, but not perfect. "Stay down, woman!" He abruptly crouched and began to move to the left, around the corner.
Tasmin saw the red dot on his back. The shooter had his laser fixed on the Aurorian. Without thinking about the consequences of her reckless action, she sprang forward, pushing the man down. Pain radiated through her middle. A gasp escaped her lips as she fell. Lying on the cold marble floor, she saw a red trail creeping across the smooth white marble in front of her face.
Blood. Her blood. Transfixed at the sight, she lay quietly while chaos erupted around her. Tasmin felt cold. Strangely, she could hear screaming and shouting, but no more shots. Blinking, she cleared the moisture from her eyes. They'd watered, but she wasn't crying. Weak tears weren't in her nature. She hurt too much to move. All she could do was listen.
"Je'L huten le grubi Me'L?"
She tried to make sense of another male voice. He, too, spoke in Aurorian. This part of the terminal was human only. Why so many aliens in the restricted area? she wondered through the haze of pain. Her fuzzy mind strained to translate. She'd studied hard when she learned she was coming to Aurora for her internship. She spoke the language better than some of the long-term personnel. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Focus.
"My prince, are you hurt?" She was almost positive she'd translated correctly.
My Prince? It can't be.
Medical staff began to swarm around her.
"Leheck leheim ge ha Je'L Velhum." See to the woman, your prince has commanded it.
The Star Prince. I can't believe it.
The paramedics murmured humbly at their liege. More aliens where they shouldn't be. She could see the boots of both human and Aurorian soldiers swarming around him, protecting the valuable man.
She saw her reflection in the mirrored door across from where she'd fallen. Her long auburn hair lay tangled around her. She could see it absorbing some of her pooling blood. Her normally fair completion was ghastly white. She already looked dead.
Tas could see her charred wound, and her internal organs. She stared into her own big brown eyes, unable to look any lower. Her wound was horrifying, survival unlikely. Her mother and sister would be so sad. I just wish I could tell them I'm sorry.
"Tetung Valumspar. Hejar L' Vomek." I owe her a life debt. She belongs to me.
What he'd said didn't frighten her because she didn't think she'd live long enough to worry about the consequences of his proclamation. She couldn't hold on any longer. Even with the realization that she'd just saved the life of the Star Prince, the most powerful man in all of Aurora, the man who ruled the seven kingdoms, she couldn't keep her eyes open. Her lashes fluttered. Darkness overcame her and her mind shut off.
* * *
Dripping.
The sound of dripping woke Tasmin from her deep, dreamless sleep. She forced her blurry eyes open. Her mouth felt as dry as dust. The window was open and a slight breeze ruffled the gauzy pale peach curtains. The walls were the same shade. Her body hurt. Turning away from the window, she noticed a large bank of medical monitoring equipment, all of it Aurorian design. She could tell she wasn't in a hospital, but there was nothing in the small room to indicate where she actually was.
"Oh... ow... ouch, fuck," she muttered, forcing herself to sit up in the bed. On the wall across from her sat a long table filled with bouquets, rows of them. They also covered the floor under the table. Many looked wilted, and it made her wonder just how long she'd been out of commission.
Looking down, she noticed the huge hole in her body was gone. She wore a sheer light nightie in a color she'd never seen on Earth. The only way to describe it was blue with a dark pink sheen. There was more to the color, but she just didn't have any reference on Earth to describe it. She felt a sensation akin to joy just looking at the way the garment shimmered, reflecting the light. Many colors and scents on Aurora were so multidimensional that they actually caused physical reactions in humans.
The style of her scant clothing reminded her of something a sexy genie might wear. Blushing, she couldn't help but wonder who'd dressed her in the garment. Moreover, how many people had seen her naked, unconscious body?
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Lionsblood Collection by Marteeka Karland

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Lionsblood (Collection)
by Marteeka Karland

Cover art: Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-766-6
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense, Collections
Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Audio Books
Series: Lionsblood
Length: Collection
Page Count: 165

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1764

Blurb:
In Earth's brutal, future frozen, humans are no longer at the top of food chain. Paranormals roam the frozen wastes, laying claim to whatever they can defend. Humans are tolerated by some, but not all of the new species.
The most vicious of the new races are the Lionsblood. No one dares defy a Lionsblood. These predators take what they want and never look back. These men are as protective as they are dangerous -- especially when it comes to their chosen mates.
This collection contains the previously released novellas Lionsblood, Lionsmate, Lionsbane, and Lionsheart.
Excerpt:
Lionsblood
Marteeka Karland
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Marteeka Karland
Excerpt from Snowbound: Lionsblood
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.
"What?" The familiar masculine growl of her long time friend Klark almost made Marie sob with relief when he answered on the third chime.
"Klark, I'm so sorry to call this late." She had probably awakened him from his nightly hibernation. Most lionsblood were already deeply asleep by two hours past nightfall. It protected them from the bitter cold that blanketed the northern hemisphere of Earth at night. Not that the temperature was much better during the day. Given the fact that he'd answered at all, he probably hadn't settled down yet for the night.
"Don't worry about it. What's wrong?" He knew her too well. Unless she missed her guess, Klark wouldn't let her gloss anything over. He'd make her tell him everything before the night was out.
"Nothing's wrong, I just need a ride home."
There was a long pause.
"Where are you?"
She took a deep breath. This was the hard part. "Shiffley's Bar."
Again, there was silence.
"Do you have the gem I gave you?"
Marie blinked several times, the question catching her off guard. "Yes." She didn't dare tell him she'd made it into a necklace she never took off.
"Go to Shiff. Show him the stone. He'll put you in a safe room. Do not leave that room."
The link went dead, and Marie cringed. They'd been friends too long for her to hope he'd let this drop. He might not question her tonight, but there would be a grilling, and Klark never stopped until he had all the information he wanted. Not only that, but given Klark's temper, things didn't bode well for her tonight.
She did as he instructed and was shown to a tiny room. She sat down on the bed. The one window was laser-proof and tinted, but she could still see the perpetual drifts of snow that blanketed the landscape outside. Shiff, the vampire lionsblood hybrid, kept the room as a haven for humans caught out in the violent night. Not only were the preternaturals and immortals deadly to humans, but the night turned the Earth into a frozen wasteland in excess of 100 degrees below zero in the summer, and 150 below in the winter. The only things keeping humans alive were the underground farms and the few above ground "safe rooms" the hybrids built for their "pets." This safe room was impenetrable, and impossible to leave unless Shiff allowed it.
When the heavy titanium door burst open, only to slam shut so hard her insides shook, naturally she nearly jumped out of her skin. What a time for him to choose to remind her of the strength of a lionsblood. In this world, the lionsblood were at the top of the food chain.
"Jesus Holy God!" She was at once relieved to see Klark standing there, but her relief was short lived. He looked livid.
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Protect and Serve 13: The Big Blue by Anne Kane

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 13:03:00 +0000

Protect and Serve: The Big Blue
by Anne Kane

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-754-3
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense
Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Men and Women in Uniform
Series: Protect and Serve
Length: Novella

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1752

Blurb:
Polar bear shifters are rare these days, and most of them keep a low profile. Tundra knows the rules, but tonight she needs to get laid and it will take a strong man to satisfy her.
Alec's buddies call him the Big Blue, and they're closer to the truth than most of them know. Trolls have a nasty reputation in this brave new world.
The very first time Tundra sees Blue, she knows she has to have him. What she doesn't realize is that she'll never want to let him go. When Alex goes to confront the head of a vicious Cabal, Tundra follows to make sure he doesn't get hurt. After all, even a troll's hide isn't as thick as a polar bear's.
Excerpt:
Protect and Serve: The Big Blue
Anne Kane
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Anne Kane

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 stalked across the bar and hauled myself up onto one of the few empty barstools. It looked like the entire neighborhood had decided to drown their sorrows at the same time. At least that meant there was a good selection of men available. Good thing, because right now I was feeling hornier than a werewolf during the full moon, and pissed enough not to be too picky about whom I chose to spend the night with. Talks with my self-appointed guardian Tyrone always had this effect on me. Make that monologues. I don't think I'd managed to get in more than two words during the entire fiasco.
I waved my hand to catch Sam's attention, and motioned him to bring me a drink. Sam had been bartending at Joe's Bar long enough to know what I wanted. I swiveled the chair and surveyed the room, considering my options. The three guys at the pool table weren't bad looking, and there were a few likely candidates at a table in the far corner, but they all looked just a tad too civilized for my taste tonight. I was in the mood for something wild.
A gust of wind drew my attention to the door. The man who entered sent heat curling deep in my gut. Civilized was the last word that came to mind. Hard. Wild. Uncivilized. Yeah, those described him to a T.
A riot of dark hair curled all the way to the blue uniform stretched tight across his huge shoulders. He reminded me of the football players at the inner city stadiums, wide and covered with thick ropes of muscle. A tingle of anticipation raced through me. His dark eyes swept the room with cynical disinterest as he shouldered his way through the noisy crowd, and I found myself holding my breath as I waited for him to notice me.
"He's trouble, Tundra. Don't even think about it." Sam slapped the beer down in front of me, breaking the spell.
"You know him?" I ignored the bartender's frown. I was way past needing someone to vet my dates. "I don't remember seeing him in here before."
Sam nodded. "Alex is a loner, a beat cop down at the precinct. He doesn't come in here often. Last time he did, it took me two days to clean up the mess." He leaned forward, lowering his voice so I had to strain to hear his words. "I heard a rumor that there's a troll somewhere in his family tree, and I'm inclined to believe it."
"Really." I swept my tongue across my suddenly dry lips as I watched the slide of tight material over his ass. "That could make things very... interesting." Sam snorted and shook his head as I took a long pull on my drink. "That's one word for it. Don't say I didn't warn you!"
I laughed, throwing him a saucy grin as I slid off the barstool. "Warning duly noted. Wish me luck!" Turning my back on his disapproving frown, I wound my way through the dense crowd toward my target.
He'd taken a seat at a small table and was watching the trio at the pool table mangle a simple game of spots and stripes. One of the scantily clad waitresses swooped in to deposit a drink in front of him, bending forward so far that I fully expected her ample bosoms to fall out of the low-cut bodice of her dress. She had better not be under the impression that she stood a chance with him, because I was more than willing to get into a fight tonight. A little pre-coitus bloodshed would be just a bonus.
The man tossed some credits at her, and she flounced away to take orders from another table. I found myself feeling mildly disappointed. I hadn't been in a good fight in at least two moons. Wouldn't hurt to get in a little practice.
Reaching my destination, I pulled out the other chair at the table and sat down beside my target. I took my time assessing him close up, letting my gaze wander from the tips of his serviceable boots and up his muscular legs to the impressive bulge at his groin. Looked like I wouldn't have to work too hard to get what I wanted.
I took another gulp of my beer and considered the vast expanse of his chest, barely covered by the tight uniform. A unicorn tattoo on his biceps seemed incongruous with the rough attitude, and being my usual tactful self, I decided not to mention it.
Yeah, right. Me? Tactful? "So what's with the prissy little horse?" I nodded at the tattoo. "Lose a bet or something?"
I found myself staring into the darkest eyes I'd ever encountered; pools of liquid heat. For a moment, I thought I'd blown my chance of playing ride-em cowboy with him, but then the corners of his eyes crinkled and he let out a bellow of real, straight-from-the-gut laughter. It made him look even hotter, which I hadn't thought possible. My libido kicked into high gear, and I could feel the liquid heat gathering at the apex of my thighs. Idly, I wondered if he'd go for the direct approach and save us both some time. I decided not to risk it.
"The prissy little horse has a certain sentimental value that I only share with close friends." The man's eyes swept over me with obvious interest. "Do I know you?"
I decided to play it cool and mysterious. Who knows? It worked on those old video flicks they showed on public TV. "Not yet, but the night is young." Okay, that just sounded stupid. I smiled in what I hoped was a seductive manner. "My name is Tundra."
A slow, sexy smile turned his face into an open invitation -- one I had every intention of accepting. When he spoke, his voice had the smooth, deep inflection of a very old bottle of expensive whiskey. "That's a very unusual name. Nice to meet you, Tundra."
He held his hand out and I stared at it like an idiot. He wanted to shake hands? Not exactly what I'd envisioned, but hey, it was a start. I took his hand and shook it. It was big. Real big. Heat crawled up my spine as I imagined it caressing my breasts. Or sliding across my naked ass. "Nice to meet you too..." I arched my eyebrow as it occurred to me I had no idea what his name was.
The smile widened. "Alex. But most people just call me Big Blue."
I took a long drink, letting the silence stretch out. "Big Blue. How interesting. Referring to your uniform, I assume?"
He chuckled. "Well, that would be the Blue part."
"And the Big?" It took all my self-control to keep my gaze from straying to that thick bulge at his groin.
He kept eye contact, the grin on his face taking on a mischievous look as he reached for my hand and drew it slowly toward his lap. He didn't say anything else. He didn't have to. Under my questing fingers, that huge lump grew even bigger. Big Blue indeed! "Oh my."
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Razor's Edge-- Good Neighbors by Clarice Clique

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Razor's Edge: Good Neighbors
by Clarice Clique

Cover art: Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-917-2
Genre(s): Razor's Edge Press, Hot Flashes, BDSM
Theme(s): Interracial/MultiCultural, Ménage, Bisexual and More
Length: Hot Flash
Page Count: 21

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1754Blurb:
In a state of undress, getting ready for work in the morning, a woman glances out of her window and sees her female neighbor staring back at her. An adventure of voyeurism and teasing begins, but where will it end?
Excerpt:
Good Neighbors
Clarice Clique
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Clarice Clique

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 first time was an accident.
A typical Monday morning, running around wildly, making a mess of everything. I grabbed my mug for a last gulp of coffee and splattered it over my blouse. I pulled it off, yanking a button loose in the process. I searched through my wardrobe, throwing my skimpy party tops to the side, praying that I had another clean office top. Finally I found one, but the material was too thin. You could see through it to my lacy bra, and through that to the dark circles of my nipples. I took a deep breath, pulled the new blouse and the bra off, and looked for more appropriate underwear. With a plain bra in my hand, I turned to glance at my alarm clock. But it wasn't the time that caught my attention. Out of the corner of my eye, through the window, I saw her. And I froze.
I'd never bothered with blinds on the bedroom window of my little terraced house. It overlooked farm fields and the garden of one big detached house, and I'd never seen any need to obscure my view for the sake of privacy. I knew a man and a woman lived in the detached house from glimpsing them in their garden occasionally, but I never saw them out and about in the village, and if I had we weren't even on the "Hi, how are you?" level of casual acquaintances.
Yet, here I was, dressed only in my stockings and office skirt, staring straight into the eyes of my neighbor.
My heart thumped in my chest and I seemed unable to move and do the simple thing of drawing the curtains, or even put a modest hand over my naked breasts. Instead I gazed into the teasing green eyes of the woman who was staring unabashedly at me. She was wearing a short summer dress that moved with the morning breeze, allowing me to appreciate how slim and long her white legs were. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders. If anyone had asked me before, I would have struggled to recall whether she was blonde or brunette. In the light of the morning sun, I could clearly see all the different colors -- red, brown, gold, light and darker strands mingling together to create a vision of beauty.
I felt giddy looking at her and forced myself to drop my gaze. My eyes lowered to the curve of her chest pushing against the material of her dress.
Color rushed to my cheeks. I stepped forward, pulled the curtains closed and tried to focus my mind on getting ready for the work day. As I put my bra on, I looked down at the pink-brownness of my nipples. Had my neighbor been able to see how hard they were from where she was standing?
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Wild Things: Fanged by Jocelyn Michel

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Wild Things: Fanged
by Jocelyn Michel

Cover art: Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-731-4
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Vampires, Werewolves
Series: Wild Things
Length: Novella
Page Count: 37

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1753

Blurb:
Cassidy's searching for mythical monsters in Romania, but she has no clue Andrei, her guide, is just what she's hunting!
Cassidy Kerrigan has reluctantly left her computer to assume the role of host for a brand new prime-time monster hunt called Wild Things. Relying heavily on her hunky guide/cameraman, Andrei Dinu, she crosses the ocean to explore the mountains of Romania.
Her assignment? Prove or debunk once and for all the werewolf myth. But the weather doesn't cooperate, and when rain drives them into a cave, Cass begins to suspect that Andrei is more than he seems. Can mutual passion overcome her fears? And what will happen when the werewolf of myth proves to be much, much more?
Excerpt:
Wild Things: Fanged
Jocelyn Michel
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Jocelyn Michel

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 slowly turned, overwhelmed by my exotic surroundings. Instead of the smog, pricey boutiques and crazy traffic that were LA, I saw intricately carved barns, restored peasant houses and a castle straight out of a Dracula movie. Romania. Wow. It was hard to believe that barely a month ago, I'd sat across the desk from a couple of producers at Earth Broadcasting Network, pitching my idea for a new series that I'd called Wild Things. The concept? A rugged male hunk of a host would tramp all over the planet in search of world myths to prove or debunk them. Since there were already primetime monster hunts out there and EBN preferred an R rating, I'd stipulated that his only companion must be a sexy female guide/photographer. If our pair had the right chemistry, our targeted demographic would watch every week just to find out whether or not they'd hooked up.
How could I have guessed that the network CEO, my estranged father Sean Kerrigan, wouldn't green light the pilot unless I took on the role of host? Me, the klutz who'd never even slept in a backyard tent. A chauvinist in the throes of a midlife crisis, Dad had dumped my mom for a younger model eight months ago. I'd ignored him ever since -- no visits, no phone calls, no texts. And if we passed each other in the hall, I kept my shoulders squared and my eyes straight ahead. Was this his way of getting back at me for all the cold shouldering? I was sure of it. Could I have simply blown him off? Not with my rent, car payment and credit card debt. I was overdue for a killer idea, and this was definitely it. So now I fumed, even though I stood smack in the middle of the most beautiful scenery in the world.
"Cass! There you are." My prissy director, Beau Truman, motioned for me to join him in front of the castle, which I knew dated from the twelfth century. Yeah, I'd done my homework and might actually have appreciated this incredible opportunity just a little if I hadn't known my jerk of a dad was behind the scenes, yanking my strings.
I walked over. "Morning, Beau."
"How are you feeling, luv?"
"Fine, so far." I lied, of course. At the moment I didn't have butterflies in my stomach, I had bats -- big ones -- which made sense, I guess. Transylvania was just a stone's throw away.
"Good. I want to introduce you to your gorgeous guide." Though Beau winked, he looked at me a little anxiously, probably because I'd confided my doubts about surviving in the wild. Not that I wasn't physically fit. I was, thanks to another bill that had to be paid -- gym membership. I also had camera skills, a result of my college degree. But I didn't have a clue how to find and protect myself from wolves, or in this case werewolves, the terrifying myth that was my first quest. Just getting to Romania had been challenging enough. I'd have to rely heavily on my guide to get me where I needed to be and keep me safe.
Beau led me to a tan Land Rover that had definitely seen better days. The driver's door stood open. Behind the wheel sat a good-sized guy with one weathered boot planted on the ground. From the back, I could see that he had shaggy dark hair, wide shoulders and long legs. He wore what I'd call safari gear, as did I -- khaki pants with lots of pockets and a button shirt with the kind of sleeves that I could push up and secure with a tab. Mine was OD green; his was red. I liked his better.
"Andrei, this is Cassidy Kerrigan. Cass, Andrei Dinu."
My guide got out of the vehicle and turned to face us. Nothing could've prepared me for his eyes -- glacial blue with long, thick lashes. I'd have killed for peepers like that. Mine were almost as black as my hair. Not unusual for the "Dark Irish," but definitely not the blue-eyed blond look I'd always admired.
As for the rest of Andrei Dinu -- the tall, well-proportioned, muscular rest of him -- well, my pussy zinged to life. Annoyed, I ruthlessly quelled my lust. If there was ever going to be a time to ignore my sexual impulses, this would be it.
I offered my hand. "Nice to meet you."
Andrei shook it, checking out my French-tipped nails. Feeling dwarfed by his height and slightly intimidated, I jerked my hand away and stuck it behind my back. His expression never changed, but I got the distinct feeling he disapproved. His cool appraisal, which started at my ponytail and traveled to the toes of my snazzy new hiking boots -- pink camo, no less -- pretty much proved it. That rankled. Though I was only five-three, I had as much heart as he did, and no woman on the planet had ever been more determined to succeed.
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State of Affairs by Dany Sirene

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

State of Affairs
by Dany Sirene

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-756-7
Genre(s): Dark Fantasy
Theme(s): Ménage, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella
Page Count: 63

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1756

Blurb:
Jade Harron has been tapped for a very delicate mission. Twin kingdoms, at war for ages, only have one chance at alliance: union by marriage. But someone doesn't want the warring kingdoms united. No way the king's willing to put his daughter's neck on the line! But he's got the perfect spy for the role -- half-Elf and cross-dressing courtesan Jade Harron, of course.
Somehow Jade's not convinced Prince Keandre will be all that pleased when he discovers their deception. Then again, what will they do if the prince prefers to keep his Elven "Bride"? And then there's Jade's former lover, Gareth, Captain of Prince Keandre's guard and keeper of his secrets... and secret desires. Gareth knows far too much about Jade's past. Will he expose Jade for who he is? Or coerce him back to his bed?
Jade has a feeling no matter how this ill-conceived affair turns out, his life will never be the same. Danger, deception, espionage and unbridled lust -- all politics as usual in this decadent court.

Excerpt:
State of Affairs
Dany Sirene
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Dany Sirene

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.

Holding up the flouncy skirts with the easy grace of a dancer, I pranced into the assembly hall, right past the guards whose eyes looked like they were about to pop right out of their sockets. I stopped in the entranceway and curtsied with a flourish to the king and queen of Aleyne. The king stared at me, trying really hard not to show his astonishment.
"Good evening, Your Majesties," I said in my most melodious girly voice -- my trademark and the best part of my act. "You wished to see me?"
The king shook his head. The queen looked utterly scandalized and hid her face behind her fan.
"Seriously, Master Harron. Was this really necessary? It's... disconcerting, to say the least," the king said with a disapproving look.
I assumed an expression of insulted innocence. "I simply didn't wish to waste my time or yours."
The king heaved a sigh. "All right. The illusion is believable enough, I'll give you that. But could you foil an assassination attempt in this..." He gestured at the puffy under-layers of lace peeking out from beneath the sky-blue silk skirt.
"Crinoline," I finished helpfully. "I assure you, my combat skills are in no way diminished by --"
At the king's signal, the guard who stood just behind me pulled out a knife and lunged at me. I reached up and gripped the guard's wrist. The blade stopped just inches away from my elaborate coiffure. Stifling a yawn, I gave his arm a little twist. The guard gasped in pain and let go of the blade, which clattered to the floor. I let go of him instantly, and the man rubbed his wrist, muttering a few extremely unflattering words.
I smiled coquettishly at their majesties and patted my hair. "Any other questions?"
The queen's mouth was a little painted "O" of shock on her pale face. The king cleared his throat, trying to collect himself. "Yes. You do understand that this is a highly sensitive political matter."
"Of course."
"And therefore discretion is absolutely crucial."
I tried not to let my disappointment show. "Yes, my lord. Of course."
"Now, the story is, Princess Amalia is my darling Lisele's little sister. No one has seen her up to this point because she was raised in a convent." He paused and glared at me. "A convent, Master Harron. Integrate this knowledge into your act if you can."
I nodded, trying not to crack up. "That's all very well. I also know that the people of Levant are known for their pious chastity, but I still think Prince Keandre will notice that something is not quite right when the wedding night comes around."
"Harron, this is serious," the king fumed. "And it won't come to that. Once you get there, your job is to figure out who is sending the threats to assassinate my Lisele, and to... deal with them. Then I will revoke my decision and send Princess Lisele in your place."
"Yes, sir, but are you sure it won't cause political, ah, frictions?"
The king's expression made me want to swallow my tongue. "You let me worry about that, Master Harron. You just do what I assigned you to do, nothing more and nothing less, without making an idiot of yourself and this whole court by extension. Think you can handle that?"
I broke out in a cold sweat under the tightly laced corset of the gown, swallowed the lump in my throat, and nodded.
"That's all. You will be leaving first thing tomorrow."
And thus, my fate was sealed.
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1756

Shibari Auction House 1: Jack by Sean Michael

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Shibari Auction House: Jack
by Sean Michael

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-760-4
Genre(s): Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary), BDSM
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Series: Shibari Auction House
Length: Novella
Page Count: 49

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1757

Blurb:
When Jack's gambling debts catch up to him and he's about to lose both his legs, if he's lucky, to his loan shark, he decides to sell his time for three years to the highest bidder, hoping someone is willing to pay him enough to clear his debts for good.
Is he jumping from the frying pan into the fire? Only time will tell.
Excerpt:
Shibari Auction House: Jack
Sean Michael
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Sean Michael

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.

"Are you sure you're interested, sir? Forgive me for saying so, but..." The big, tall, Lurch-y man stared at him through wire-rimmed glasses. "...you're not exactly a common type here."
"There's money, right? Good money?" Jack watched Lurch nod. "Then I'm fucking interested." He had to come up with a quarter of a mil. Now, before someone had his head on a platter, kind of literally.
Ben Williams, the bartender at Glass Houses, had listened to him crying in his beer a couple of days ago and slipped him this business card. Shibari Auction House. Jack had told the guy he didn't have a damn thing left in the world. Nothing. He'd sold it all for that last desperate game. Triple or nothing. He got nothing.
"This is... Well, they aren't buying stuff, Jack. It's... service they're buying."
Service.
It had taken him a little bit to figure it out, and a little bit longer than that even to get up the balls to call. Knowing that Mick Peterson was out there with a baseball bat and a switchblade helped.
"You do understand that you will enter a contract, yes?"
Jack nodded. After he called, he'd spent time with Ben, who'd told him that all sorts of things were possible -- personal assistants, security, even housekeeping -- but mainly this was sex stuff. With other guys, if you wanted the money.
God knew, he wanted the money.
"I do. You tell me what'll get me the best price, I'll do it. I'm not scared." Or proud. Hell, maybe after three years of doing... whatever, he wouldn't want to gamble any more.
"Well, obviously the more... esoteric terms are more costly." The thin lips pursed. "Body modifications and total submission are at the top, and --"
"Fine. Give me the list." He had two days left before the enforcers came hunting him.
"Length of time will make a difference as well." Lurch still wasn't handing over the list. "And anyone could buy you. Someone young, someone old..."
"Is three years good?" He didn't care about the other. It wasn't like he was going to get off. He started checking stuff off. "When it says body mods, they won't cut my balls off or nothing, right?"
"No, that would be castration. Body mods includes piercings and things like pearls slipped beneath your skin." One of Lurch's eyebrows went up, way up, as he continued to mark items as acceptable. "Three years will get you a good sum, especially with the number of items you're indicating you'll do."
"Okay." He firmed his lips up and looked at the guy -- Yves, actually, not Lurch -- again. "Is it bad that I haven't ever taken it in the ass? I mean, I can go out tonight and do it, if it is."
Yves made a soft noise. "Are you even gay? Because trust me, we include that you are a virgin and your price goes up. Way up. But your... deflowering may not be all hearts and roses."
"I'm gay. I just... In my neighborhood it's a quick handjob or a blowjob in the alley. Not... something that ends in a bed with lube." The idea of having a cock up there made his sphincter clench.
"You can leave anal sex off the list. It will decrease the price, though." Yves touched his arm, his look gentle. "Are you sure?" If the man asked that one more time...
"They're going to break my legs, man. They're going to kill me. I have to pay them."
"Well, no one who buys you will break your legs or kill you." Yves shook his head. "If you really need a lot of money, I would suggest giving your virginity up with the rest. That really will be what increases your price."
"Okay. Okay, yeah. It's not like it's good to me." He tried to grin. "I'm not a bastard. I just... I gamble." He had the slightest addictive bone.
"Not very well, it appears." Yves' tone was extremely dry.
Jack found himself laughing, hard. Hard enough that it hurt a little. "Yeah, I guess."
"If you'll finish filling that out, I'll send Bart in for the signing, and then Katie will help you with your grooming. If you want, and you're quick, we can get you on the bill for tonight's auction."
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Razor's Edge: Puck You Two by Elizabeth Jewell

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 06:00:00 +0000

Razor's Edge: Puck You, Two
by Elizabeth Jewell

Cover art: Marteeka Karland
ISBN: 978-1-60521-916-5
Genre(s): Razor's Edge Press, Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary)
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Series: Puck You
Length: Hot Flash
Page Count: 19

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1751

Blurb
When Philippe Bessette runs into Jaroslav Láska in a bar, he knows he should walk away. But Láska knows what Bessette wants, and this time he's going to make Bessette beg for it.

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1751

Love Reversed by Zenobia Renquist

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 20:37:00 +0000

Love Reversed
by Zenobia Renquist

Cover art: Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-747-5
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense
Theme(s): Interracial/MultiCultural, Magic
Length: Novella
Page Count: 65

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1749

Blurb
Cinnamon came to the Hawaii celebrity retreat to meet her favorite actress. Calhoun crashed to find answers about his missing uncle. Neither of them signed on for the part of the tour that included body swapping. They have to find a way to switch back without anyone realizing their predicament. Long nights of searching for answers become even longer when curiosity takes over. It's a once in a lifetime chance to see how the other half loves, and they don't plan to let it slip away.
Excerpt
Love Reversed
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Zenobia Renquist

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

Cinnamon spotted Calhoun walking away from the outdoor banquet back toward the hotel. He must have forgotten something in his room. The man didn't act like he wanted to be at the retreat even though he had paid a lot of money to get a room at the overbooked hotel hosting it. He showed no interest in the people or the events, and actually seemed annoyed to be there.
So why come? It made no sense.
Normally something like that wouldn't bug her but he drew her eye. It had to be the full sleeve of tattoos that covered his right arm from his wrist all the way up the back of his bald scalp.
Beautiful art, no matter where it was located, always caught her eye. Calhoun's sepia-colored tattoos had clean, sharp lines defining each of the religious symbols -- Ancient Egyptian scarabs, Chinese dragons, Celtic runes, and so on. She could only guess he wanted to cover all the bases.
She would love to meet his tattoo artist just in case she ever got up the nerve to actually get ink of her own. The pain didn't deter her. She just didn't know what she wanted or where she wanted it. That had to mean she wasn't ready to get one.
Asking about tattoos and artists would have to wait. She had another reason to seek out Calhoun, so she followed him to the back of the hotel near the delivery and loading area. While she didn't want to miss the rest of the dinner, she did want her bracelet back. Calhoun had said he could fix it easily. His wandering around had to mean it was finished. If not, she would rather he simply return it so she could get it fixed somewhere else.
Calhoun entered a glass door that had Employees Only embossed on it in big, bold lettering. He wasn't an employee. He had arrived on Hawaii the same day she had. That's how he ended up with her bracelet. It snagged on his suitcase at the baggage claim carousel while she tried to retrieve her own bag. The result -- a broken bracelet clasp.
The door slammed shut behind him, and Cinnamon waited. He would come out any second after he realized his mistake... if it was a mistake. Though she couldn't reason why it wouldn't be a mistake. Maybe he'd gone in search of a restroom, which meant he would exit any minute.
She watched the door, but Calhoun didn't exit. While the cool night breeze felt good against her legs, she couldn't stand there forever, waiting for him. When a big cheer sounded from the area where the banquet was taking place, Cinnamon glanced in that direction then looked back at the door. Still no Calhoun.
Well, whatever he was doing in there was none of her business. She turned and headed back to the banquet. She had paid a lot of money to get to Hawaii so she could visit with Dannah Ridge, a legendary black actress who had been Cinnamon's idol from the moment she laid eyes on the woman. Some people even said Cinnamon looked like a younger Dannah, except Cinnamon's breasts were bigger, and her cheeks sported dimples instead of a beauty mark.
A rustling sound drew her attention back to the employees' entrance. Two men carrying a wriggling, writhing duffel bag between them went through the same door.
Cinnamon frowned. Maybe it was paranoia talking, but that bag had looked a lot like a person struggling to get out. She shook her head, dismissing her silly ideas. Too many cop dramas had her seeing crimes where there were none. Except... she couldn't stop staring at the door.
Had the men run into Calhoun and attacked him for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or maybe Calhoun was meeting them. He had crashed the party. If not for Dannah's fellow actor and long time paramour Flint East, Calhoun would have never gotten a room at the hotel because they were booked solid for the all-star retreat -- an event featuring actors of old and their adoring fans.
Did that mean Calhoun had crashed to do something shady? And maybe Flint East was helping him and that was how a room had miraculously become available?
Cinnamon found herself walking toward the door. Despite Calhoun's rough exterior and gruff attitude, she couldn't see him as the type who would harm someone without just cause. Her instincts about people were usually right.
As she reached for the doorknob, she muttered, "This is the part in the horror movie when the audience writes off the woman as TSTL for not minding her own business and then laughs when her stupidity gets her killed."
Thankfully, her life wasn't a movie, especially not a horror movie. She still hoped her nosy nature didn't get her into trouble.
She slipped past the door quickly, throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one had followed her or raised an alarm. Everything remained quiet. She looked for clues to Calhoun's whereabouts. The door led to a long corridor with doors at odd intervals. Cinnamon didn't plan to check the doors in case people were behind them that might object to her being there. She did peek into the few rooms with open doors.
Nothing.
If Calhoun and those mystery men with the duffel bag were there, they were hiding. She shrugged and chalked it up to a loss. Calhoun had to come out some time. She would get her bracelet back from him then.
Someone grabbed her from behind, clapped their hand over her mouth, and pulled her back into the shadows against a solid chest. She prepared to employ every technique she had learned in self-defense class.
"Next time you want to sneak up on me, try wearing less perfume, Cinnamon." Calhoun whispered those words so close to her ear that his hot breath feathered across her cheek. "What are you doing here?"
She pulled his hand down and whispered back, "What about you? I doubt you're an employee. And what happened to those two guys with the duffel bag?"
"Saw them, did you?"
"Yes. They came in right after --"
Calhoun put his hand back over her mouth and backed up farther into the room. Cinnamon didn't understand why until two more men with another writhing duffel bag walked past.
She waited for the sounds of their footsteps to fade before she pulled Calhoun's hand down once more and whispered, "Tell me those guys aren't carrying what I think they're carrying."
"What do you think they're carrying?" Again Calhoun spoke with his mouth close to her ear. His rumbling voice sent shivers up her spine whose cause she would contemplate when she wasn't in a potentially dangerous situation.
"A person trying to get out."
"Beauty and brains. Perceptive women like you are dangerous."

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1749

Best Man by Willa Okati

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

Best Man
by Willa Okati

Cover art: Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-751-2
Genre(s): Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary)
Theme(s): Gay and Lesbian
Length: Novella
Page Count: 49

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1750

Blurb
Alexander's a man with an uncommonly happy disposition. His luck always holds true, and he takes chances with cheerful abandon. When he sees a New Year's Eve wedding running amok and a hot best man in need of help before Bridezilla goes boom, it's second nature for him to step in to lend a hand with the last-minute disasters that plague every wedding. The way Alexander sees it, he's earning good karma, winning over the adorable best man -- and he might just already be falling in love.
Excerpt
Best Man
Willa Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Willa Okati

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

"What's life without dreams? Without hope? Call me a cock-eyed optimist, but I believe that no opportunity isn't worth taking."
"Because they always work out for you."
"I'll share my luck, if you want." Alexander cupped his hand and blew a puff of winter smoke at Shawn. "There. You're set. And, Mother? No bursting anyone's bubbles."
"It's a nice thought, Alexander, but I can't even keep a plant alive. I killed a cactus by forgetting to water it. How does someone even begin to kill a cactus?" Shawn muttered.
"That does take skill," Josephine admitted. She patted Shawn's back with one small, gloved hand. "Perennial optimism is neither better nor worse than persistent pessimism. The right one for both of you is right around the bend. Six marriages, remember? I got it wrong so many times that karma decrees you'll both get it right. Now, do hurry, would you? I will not be denied a ninety-proof holiday espresso martini."
"Hold on a minute." The noise began to clarify itself as they drew closer to the Imperial Center. Alexander stopped them. "Do you hear that?"
"I can hardly help it, though I was happy to distract myself with my gentleman escorts' conversation, but what is that commotion?" Josephine shaded her eyes to peek. "Good Lord, is that a wedding?"
Alexander tilted his head to get a better look and a listen. "I think so."
"In this weather?" Shawn nudged at a fallen chunk of icy snow. "Are they out of their minds?"
"Darling, a bride's likely involved. Insanity is a given."
Where Shawn looked dubious, Alexander's intrigue only grew. He made sure Shawn held Josephine safe and secure and took half a dozen strides forward, drinking in the details. Bunting everywhere, a caterer's van well and truly stuck in the snow, and loud, loud, loud screeching emanating from within the Imperial Center.
"Who even holds a wedding on a holiday?"
"Someone who doesn't think ahead?" Shawn suggested.
Alexander laughed. He'd seen this movie. "Bridezilla."
Josephine pointed to a harried-looking string quartet trudging through a half-broken path through the snow, identifiable only by their attempts to lug instrument cases and speakers.
Alexander would have offered to help, but there was something about the grim white lines on the faces of the quartet that told him that'd be rushing in where angels feared to tread.
"Assuredly a Bridezilla," Josephine agreed. "And one without a morsel of common sense. Do you know how long it takes to plan a wedding of this extravagance? As you've kindly pointed out, I've been there and done that, and trust me. It takes well over a year. Even if we were still enjoying a white-out storm, they'd be digging out a path for an aisle the bride could walk up."
The shrieking from within reached a pitch almost in the range that only dogs could hear. Alexander winced.
Josephine laughed. "Never actually been in the presence of a Bridezilla before, have you?"
"If that's one of them, I think I'm glad I'm gay," Shawn said.
Alexander poked him. "Civil unions, brother, and the laws are changing. One day you'll find yourself having a panic attack over lobster canapes going bad."
"Probably. I think the one screaming just now was the groom."
Josephine's shoulders shook with amusement. "Well. When all's said and done, weddings do have one thing going for them."
"Such as?"
"Slutty groomsmen?" Alexander asked, perking up.
"If a guy's lucky," Shawn agreed. "Wait, look who I'm talking to. But are they worth it?"
"I have an uncommonly happy disposition." Alexander shot his sleeves straight and stood to his fullest height, shoulders squared at their broadest. "And sure, mostly."
"Not that we'll be finding out today. Lunch awaits," Josephine said firmly.
"Of course. I --"
Alexander ceased speaking or moving. Breathing might or might not become optional.
He became vaguely aware of Josephine tapping her foot. "Darling, follow-through is a virtue." She cleared her throat. "Alexander?"
Shawn snapped his fingers by Alexander's ear.
He heard both of them. He just wasn't paying attention. Because Alexander had seen him.
He being a man of slim build, slender at the hips and satisfyingly just broad enough at the shoulders to make his masculinity clear; a good and necessary thing for a man as beautiful as he with his red lips, formerly styled and now epically mussed black waves of hair, and blue eyes now raised to the heavens in a silent why me?
Alexander dropped his arm. "Then again, I might stick around. For a few. Take a rain check on the lunch?"
"You're going to crash the wedding?"
"Yes and no," Alexander said. The beautiful man had boxes upon boxes labeled WEDDING yet to unpack. "Wait and see."
Shawn shook his head but let him go. "You're not quite right. You know that, don't you?"
* * *
If a man acted as if he belonged in any given place, people usually didn't ask questions. Alexander took the steps at an easygoing pace and casually strolled to the lovely man's side. "Need a hand?"
"I could use three, to be honest." Pretty eased a double stack of linen napery on a bare table and stretched his arms, pulling each at the wrists to release the cramped muscles. Alexander could massage those for him, but... later. "Do I know you?"
Beauty and brains. "Not in the least," Alexander replied, twinkling at him. "I was passing by and thought I'd see if Good Samaritans were still in style."
Pretty rubbed his arms as he gave Alexander a once-over of bemusement and perhaps a bit of appreciation. "At least you're honest. If you promise not to take off with a box of table favors or hit on one of the bridesmaids, then be my guest. I'm serious about the bridesmaids. I love my sister -- the bride -- but if one more thing sends her off the deep end --"
Alexander laughed. "Don't worry. About the bride or the bridesmaids." He winked. "They aren't what caught my eye."
"Is that a fact?" Pretty's cheeks turning faintly pink, and the appearance of a small smile gave him away. "That makes two of us."
"You're honest, too. And beautiful."
The pink darkened to crimson. "And you're a flatterer." That would have been worrisome if he hadn't grinned at him and pushed one-half of the napery Alexander's way. "If you're sure you want to get involved in the madness... then you can be my guest."
"You can trust me," Alexander said, ripe with confidence. "Watch." He took the top cloth off the stack and gave it a good snap, meant to send a long cloth billowing out.
It would have been more impressive if said cloth hadn't turned out to be a dinner napkin.
Pretty burst into laughter. "I have to keep you now. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I turned you out to wreak havoc on general society." His cheeks remained pink and his blue eyes lambent. He offered his hand. "Noah McMasters. Call me Noah."
Alexander took Noah's hand. A very nice hand it was, too, slim and smooth but firm. "Alexander."
A hint of dimples enriched Noah's smile. "Just Alexander?"
"I have a surname, but I'll make you work for that one." Alexander winked at Noah -- the name fit him as well as a tailored glove, small and lovely -- and draped the napkin over his arm. He clicked his heels together and bowed from the waist. "Right now, I await your command. Tell me what you want from me and I'm yours."

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1750

Wolf Tracker by Cynthia Sax

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

Wolf Tracker
by Cynthia Sax

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-690-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Wildest West
Theme(s): Werewolves, Shapeshifters, Men and Women in Uniform, Alternative Universe
Series: Wolves of the Wild West
Length: Novella
Page Count: 38

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1745

Blurb
Trace has hunted the deadliest outlaws in the Wild West, but that tracking ain't nothing compared to the dangers of courting his werewolf sweetheart, Harriet. He wrangles a deal with her brother, the alpha of her pack. Trace will wait for a year to ask Harriet to marry him, and the alpha will give them the pack's blessing.
When a rival werewolf pack takes Harriet, Trace reckons he'll do his courting with a six-shooter and a fistful of silver bullets. 'Cause no one touches Trace's woman and lives.
Excerpt
Wolf Tracker
Cynthia Sax
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Cynthia Sax

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

Harriet was being hunted.
She crept between the rock facings, in wolf form, dragging her tail in the red dirt. Erasing her paw prints merely delayed their confrontation.
Trace would find her. He was the best tracker in the territory.
And when he did... She wiggled her rump.
Her nostrils twitched. His scent flavored the night breeze with musk and arousal. Trace was gaining on her. Harriet dashed along the trail, moving faster and faster until her muscles ached and she panted, her tongue hanging out of her open mouth.
Boot-covered feet smacked stone. As he normally moved as silently as any shifter, the noise was a deliberate declaration of intent. He would catch her. Soon.
The path straightened, and her withers quivered with awareness. He was close enough to see her, the full moon lighting the ground, coloring the rocks gray and blue.
She shifted as she ran, her fur becoming bare flesh and her front paws becoming human hands. Trace inhaled sharply, and she smiled, smelling his frustration -- the aroma raw and poignant and exciting.
He wanted her, and despite the hurt he would soon inflict upon her, she wanted him too, her pussy moistening and her nipples tightening in anticipation. The trail widened, revealing a suitable spot for their confrontation.
Harriet stopped, glancing around her, and she backed into a recess in the rock wall, her bare ass pressed against cool stone. There she waited, hiding in the shadows.
Trace stepped into the open area, his broad shoulders blocking the moonlight, and Harriet froze, her gaze fixed on his muscular form. Her human lover exemplified all that was wild and primitive and fierce. Buckskin clung to his body, and his long, brown hair hung loose down his back. He had arrived for their rendezvous armed: a knife strapped to his narrow hips, and a rifle clutched in his big hands.
He raised his chin, displaying a profile consisting of angles and strength, and Harriet's fingers twitched, the compulsion to stroke his high, proud cheekbones nearly overwhelming her sense of self-preservation. He sniffed, his nostrils flaring.
Did he smell her warm, wet pussy? Harriet's breath hitched -- the sound obscenely loud.
His head turned. Silver glinted in his smoke-gray eyes while his grim lips curled into a smug smile. Without looking away, he propped the rifle against the wall of rock.
He had spotted her.
Harriet pushed away from the stone, launching her body into the air. She bounced off a solid wall of chest. Large, tanned hands slapped flat against the rocks, trapping her face between them, the tracker's muscular arms creating a cage around her.
"Got you." Trace's deep voice rumbled through the cool night air. Heat rose off his body, seductively reaching out toward her.
She licked her bottom lip, and his gaze followed the nervous sweep of her tongue, his face darkening ominously. "And what will you do with me?" Harriet feigned bravery. She tilted her face upward. His breath fanned her skin, caressing her eyelashes.
He leaned into her, his buckskin shirt brushing against her nipples. "This." His mouth dipped to cover hers, his lips firm and possessing as he claimed his prize. She opened to his questing tongue, allowing him to explore her softness, and he blazed a trail of fire and desire, mapping her soul with the tip of his tongue.
"Trace." Harriet moaned, reaching up to encircle his neck with her arms, holding his huge physique to her smaller form. Trace slid his callused palms around to the small of her back, his fingers resting on her spine, as they kissed like they'd never kissed before, and might never kiss again, his surges into her synchronizing to the pounding of her heart.
"She-wolf." He pulled back from her, lightning bolts of passion shooting across his stormy eyes, and Harriet took a tentative step forward, blindly following him, her bare soles connecting with cool rock.
"You tracked me." She gazed up at him.
Trace loosened the laces at his neck and tugged his buckskin shirt over his head, the action tousling his long hair and revealing a chest covered with smooth, tanned skin and ridged with muscles.
"Hunted me." Harriet examined him from under her partially lowered eyelids, want settling low in her womb.
"Yeah." Trace kicked off his worn, leather boots and removed his breeches, his legs corded with toned flesh and his cock jutting out from a base covered with brown curls. "Always."
He stood in front of her, proudly naked except for the knife strapped to his hip, and Harriet ran her hands over his pecs, circling his flat, male nipples with her fingertips, marveling that he was hers, this marvelous human male.
"Always?" It was a lie, as he was only hers for the moment. Others made demands on his time.
"Yeah." Trace wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her forward, crushing her to his hard body, driving her head back with the force of his kiss. "I need you, wolf."
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White Hot Christmas: Santa's Claws by Stephanie Burke

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

White Hot Christmas: Santa's Claws
by Stephanie Burke

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-748-2
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: White Hot Christmas
Length: Hot Flash

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1743

Blurb:
Santa's making a list, checking it twice, and keeping all the other holidays in check. But when an upstart Valentine's Day out for revenge infects one of Santa's precious Think Tank Elves with a true soul mate, the claws come out. Now he's going to see to it that his Elf and the naughty human to whom he's bound have a very Merry Khristmas... or else.
Excerpt:
White Hot Christmas: Santa's Claws
Stephanie Burke
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Stephanie Burke

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

Noel looked around at the wreck of her apartment and added another tick to her mental column, Why I hate Christmas.
In addition to having family drop by, expecting her to cook all kinds of holiday treats, there was the added bonus of having them suck down all her booze in moments, making her house drier than a schoolteacher during Prohibition.
And for what? For them to tell her things would get better? That she was lucky to have her shitty job as a code monkey? That all she needed was the love of a good man, woman, pet, plant, inanimate battery operated device -- insert the one that works for you, hon -- in her life?
She slammed another empty container of potato salad -- the potato salad she'd made herself to supplement her lunch of holiday ham sandwiches -- into the trash and tried not to scream. The spiral cut ham North Pole Industries had given its employees in lieu of a Christmas bonus this year -- cheap bastards -- was gone too. Now she'd have to go shopping for sandwich fodder.
Last time she'd been forced to shop on the twenty-fourth, she'd gotten elbowed in the eye by a new wife frantic for candied yams. The final straw had been getting elbowed by a granny with a fierce walking stick over a bag of marshmallows. "I need this for hot cocoa after fireplace sex!" she'd ranted, brandishing the cane. Noel conceded on that point, but she did make off with a pizza and felt no guilt for it.
And now she was going to be forced to go back into the cold night to hunt down food. No one would be open on Christmas Day, and she had to be at work on time on the twenty-sixth or she'd risk losing her holiday pay.
"Ho-fucking-ho," she muttered, reaching for her coat. She checked her pocket for mace and her brass knuckles along with her wallet. This year, she was going in prepared.
She opened her door and flinched at the sound of annoyingly cheerful jingle bells.
"Someone needs to turn that stupid music down," she muttered, picking up her garbage bag and stepping out of her apartment. They'd been forcing her to listen to holiday cheer since before Halloween. By now she was right tired of all Christmas music, from "The Christmas Song" to "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth."
Hell, all she wanted for Christmas was for it to go away.
She had just turned to lock her door when a blast of cold made her spin around. Noel's mouth dropped open when she got a gander at what was going on in her hallway. It was snowing.
Yes, there was a light dry snow falling, coating the carpet, killing the inside fichus, and just being so wrong that it shocked her into silence. Her keys dropped to the snowdrift building in front of her door.
It was snowing in her hallway, and that just wasn't supposed to happen.
"What the --" Her words were cut off as a gust of wind knocked her off her feet, and something hard landed on top of her.
By the time she blinked the snow out of her eyes, she was more than ready to call it a night, with or without food. But the thing on her chest shifted, and she looked up to see the most intense pair of black eyes she had ever seen.
They blinked at her, looking as confused as she felt, and she looked down to take the whole of him in.
God, he was gorgeous. His hair was a tousled mass of dark curls. His face was narrow with a strong jaw line and a stubborn chin over which sat the most enticing set of full, red lips. They made her think of oral sex and hours of kissing fun. He wore a velvet jacket that did nothing to hide his muscular body.
He rose up enough to rake the hair back from his face, exposing a set of ears that would have made most Star Trek fans green with envy. Noel felt her eyes go wide as the damn ears wiggled. And not in a mechanical, costumed way either. She knew what robotic motions looked like. These ears moved naturally. No costumer in the world could perfectly duplicate that reflex motion or the flush of red that flowed from his face to the tips of his ears.
"Hello." His voice was deep and mellow, curiously gentle and soothing to her wound-tight nerves.
"Uh, hello?" she responded in a squeak. Certain body parts grew swollen and moist.
"Yes, hello," he repeated, his voice oddly accented. "How are you?"
The word wanton rolled through her mind, but she repressed the urge to be that honest. "Fine," she replied, noting the oddity of having a conversation with a man practically sitting on your crotch, but carrying on anyway. "And yourself?"
"I am wonderful." He smiled fully, and Noel no longer felt the cold of the snow she was lying on. Lust had set up camp and wasn't going anywhere soon.
"So..." She fought back a giggle. A giggle! She hadn't giggled since mullets were cool. And mullets had never been cool in her book. But here she was, acting like a schoolgirl speaking to her crush for the first time. Never mind the fact that the man was a perfect stranger with ear disabilities, she wasn't knocking him off her lap and running for the hills. Something was not quite right.
"So..." He let the word trail off. "Ever have sex with an Elf?"

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No Way Out Collection by Elayne S Venton

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

No Way Out (Collection)
by Elayne S. Venton

Cover art: Angela Knight
ISBN: 978-1-60521-682-9
Genre(s): Action Adventure/ Suspense, Sci-Fi, BDSM
Theme(s): Bisexual and More
Series: No Way Out
Length: Collection
Page Count: 201

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1745

Blurb
When a team of Earth scientists is stranded on the planet Alishon, they're attacked and separated from each other. Only three will survive...
No Way Home: Botanist Kelly Hatchett. Saved from the predators, claimed and detained by her rescuer, Rye. Now he refuses to let her go. Even though she submits to him, Kelly swears she will find a way home.
No Way Back: Trapped underground with an alien male, forced to rely on one another for survival, Jake Santos is drawn to Drum in ways he never imagined. He fights his desire because once he surrenders, there's no way back.
No Way Around It: Lead scientist Vonna King is captured and sold to a man with a wicked reputation. But there's more to Yale than his dark sexual preferences. Drawn in by the two facets of his personality, Vonna must face her own secret desires.
Excerpt
No Way Out (Collection)
Elayne S. Venton
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Elayne S. Venton
Excerpt from No Way Home
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.
"Carnivore!"
The scream reverberated inside Kelly Hatchett's earpiece and rattled down her spine. She dropped the vegetation samples she'd been collecting to take back to Earth and sprinted across the grassy plain toward the shuttle pod.
The faster she ran, the better her chances of survival. The four-legged behemoths that roamed this planet didn't move swiftly, but the pair of tentacles extending from their wide heads stretched vast distances. If one grabbed her...
Please, whatever deity there might be in the universe, don't let me die. There's so much more I want to do with my life -- find a special mate, earn a Distinguished Scientist rank, motherhood, a screaming orgasm!
Mentally, she smacked her head. When was the last time she'd had fun? She should've spent more time laughing with friends, and sought out more lovers. When her sister had invited her on an orgy cruise around Mars, she should've shaken off her unease and gone along. At least she would've been able to recall one audacious thing she'd done in her life.
The muscles in her legs burned as she pushed her body to the limit.
From the other side of the shuttle pod, two grayish-brown tentacles as thick as space-sail masts wrapped around the transport and tossed it sideways across the grassy moor. Kelly jerked to a halt, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. The other four scientists running in a semi-circle toward what they thought was safety looked as horrified as she felt. They all froze in place and watched their ride back to the orbiting cruiser explode in a fiery ball.
Shock immobilized her until the colossal beast trudged toward the two closest scientists. Armed with only short-range laser pistols, the team fired haphazardly at it, but the shots seemed to irritate rather than harm. The thick feelers flicked as if swatting a fly.
"Concentrate your shots!" the team leader shouted to the group, but Kelly turned with the others and bolted from the terrifying creature. The ground shook as the creature gained on them. One of its plodding steps equaled a twenty-yard dash for the team. Panic pushed her forward.
In her peripheral vision, Kelly watched tentacles coil around two of her screaming associates, pick them up and draw them backward toward massive snapping jaws. She slid her gaze away, unwilling to watch their fate. A loud crunch and the sudden quiet made her stomach churn.
The beast bellowed behind her, its long feelers whipping through the air searching for more prey. Her lungs expanded and contracted so fast she sucked up her auxiliary oxygen through her nose mask at an alarming rate. She stopped looking back over her shoulder. It didn't help.
She was going to die.
A loud whoosh streamed by overhead. What the hell was that? A resounding thud shook the ground so hard she stumbled. Holy stars! Was the cruiser firing down here? Before they'd left the ship, the captain had made it clear if they encountered hostiles, he wouldn't break the galaxy peace agreement to save a group of expendable scientists. She'd believed him. Besides, the trajectory had traveled horizontally.
Whatever it was, she didn't want to get hit by it. Running any faster seemed impossible but fear spurred her on, veering her toward a patch of shoulder-high grasses where she might hide. Long thin blades sliced her arms as she lunged through the tall brush.
A band of speckled brown flesh snaked around her ribs. Oh God. Oh God! "Heeeelp!" she screamed as her feet lifted off the ground.
Eyes scrunched tight, Kelly wasn't prepared for the sudden body slam to the ground. Pain shot down her spine all the way to her toes.
A heavy weight pressed down on her belly, holding her flat in a nest of crushed grass. She held her breath, waiting for sharp teeth to rip into her. And waited...
Unable to stand the suspense, she popped an eye open and slowly lifted her head.
The world around her blurred and tilted.
A male anthropoid wearing a loincloth sat on her stomach. Sunlight glinted off his skin, smooth and brown-speckled like polished granite, highlighting his ripped abs and muscular thighs. He looked surprisingly human, handsome in a rough sense. Long sable hair fell over wide shoulders, drawing her gaze to the patchwork of pale scars on his brawny chest. He was a fighter. A survivor.
Curiosity shone in his golden brown eyes as he regarded her.
She grunted and bucked against the big male holding her down. What was he doing? They had to run!
He lifted his heavy weight off her, but immediately resettled over her with his knees on either side of her hips, calm as can be.
It suddenly hit her that the ground had stopped trembling. A horrid stench filled the air. The creature --
He must have killed it.
Pent-up breath rushed from her lungs in a loud whoosh. She was safe! Amid her tremendous relief, she let out a joyful squeak and squeezed the stranger's impressive biceps. "Thank you!" She wanted to curl upward and give him a big hug, but the stern expression on his face stopped her.
"Shapitwa," the male said, pushing her back to the ground. His eyes looked hard, demanding. He glanced over his shoulder at a path tramped through the dense grassland. When he turned back, he put a finger to his lips and made motions telling her to lie still. "Shapitwa," he breathed softly.
The warrior tilted his head, listening. Kelly strained to hear footsteps, snarls, whispers, anything that might indicate danger, but all she heard was the wind sifting through the grass. She watched the alien relax his broad shoulders. The gleam in his eyes made him look downright smug.
Well, killing a ferocious beast ten times your size must make one proud.
He rambled in his native language, his tone full of himself. Great. Why was she always attracted to the good-looking, arrogant types?
She shook her head and reached for the translator module strapped to her belt.
He grabbed her wrists and slowly drew her arms over her head. Bending over her, brushing her breasts with his chest, he whispered again, "Shapitwa."

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Paranormal Mates Society III by Ann Jacobs, Kira Stone, Cat Marsters, Amelia Elias and Isabella Jordan

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

Paranormal Mates Society Vol. III (Collection)
by Ann Jacobs, Isabella Jordan, Kira Stone, Cat Marsters and Amelia Elias

Cover art: Bryan Keller and Karen Fox and Fabiano Fabris
ISBN: 978-1-60521-685-0
Genre(s): Paranormal
Theme(s): Shapeshifters
Series: Paranormal Mates Society Multi-Author
Length: Collection
Page Count: 281

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1746

Blurb
A god tries to keep from putting the man of his dreams to sleep, a vampire Dom handles two sexy subs, a satyr plays a practical joke on the God of War and the Fury of Disasters, the site administrator's sex life heats up thanks to a sexy satyr, and a woman posing as a witch finds love with a werewolf can truly be -- it's Satan's own online dating service, and chaos has never been quite this hot!
This anthology contains the previously released Paranormal Mates Society novellas Insomnia, O Positive, Loving Fury, Playing with Matches, and The Midnight Hour. These titles are all available as individual e-book releases. This collection is also available in print!
Excerpt
Paranormal Mates Society Vol. III (Collection)
All rights reserved.
Excerpt from Loving Fury
Copyright ©2011 Amelia Elias
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.
"Hey," he murmured, cupping my face in his hands. "Thera, talk to me. What's going on?"
I tried to bat his hands away. They stayed put, stubbornly unbattable. Finally I gave in to the inevitable and glared at him, not hiding the moisture on my cheeks. "There, are you happy now?" I snapped. "Want to make fun of me a little more? Maybe this will solidify your reputation as the Bad-Ass of Olympus—the Great Ares, the god who made a Fury cry. That'd be perfect for you, wouldn't it?"
"Shit," he whispered, but he didn't release me. His hands slid down to my shoulders, holding them in a gentle grip that was still unbreakable. "Thera, I -- damn, I'm sorry. I thought... well, I mean, I assumed...”
"I know what you assumed," I said, trying to get hold of myself and failing miserably. The tears were falling in a steady rain now. "You assumed what everyone else does -- Furies don't have feelings. We don't think of anything but destruction, don't want anything but blood, don't value anything but suffering. Well, guess what? You and everyone else forget one little fact -- I'm a goddess, same as any other! Does Athena think only of collecting more wisdom? Does Artemis hunt all the time, forsaking everything else? Does Aphrodite spend her every waking moment screwing?"
Ares was looking at me like he'd never seen me before -- and I suppose he hadn't. "With Aphrodite, it's close," he said, but he didn't smile. "I'm sor --"
"Yeah, you're sorry, everyone's sorry, big fucking deal," I interrupted, again trying to escape his grasp and again failing. "At least you've done one thing for me -- I won't waste any more time trying to be something no one will let me be. Damn it, Ares, will you let me go already?"
He shook his head. "Not until you let me apologize properly," he said, and when I took a breath to yell at him some more, he stopped my mouth with his own.
I froze. His lips were firm, his tongue teasing; he tasted of the sweet dessert wine and a hint of spice, and I didn't have a clue what to do with him when he was kissing me. He nipped my lip, surprising a gasp from me and making me aware for the first time that I wasn't breathing. I jerked my head away as if waking from a dream.
"What do you think you're doing?" I snapped, trying for outraged and only achieving breathless.
"Apologizing," he murmured as he scattered little kisses over my jaw.
"I don't need a pity-fuck in an elevator to make me feel better," I growled, and tried to shut up every neglected part of my body that was screaming for me to take it back, that pity-fucks were just fine and they'd like one or two of them right now.
He nuzzled my earlobe, which immediately joined the chorus of body parts clamoring for a good fucking, pity-induced or otherwise. "Too bad," he whispered. He caught my hand and pressed it to the front of his slacks, molding my palm against the rigid length behind his zipper. "What about one to make me feel better?"
Yes! my body screamed. I told it to shut up and tried not to notice the thickness of his cock under my hand, the warm, hard size of it. I failed utterly. "Get off me!"
"No," he said, and this time when he kissed me, he was serious about it.
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1746

Wolf Mates Collection by Dakota Cassidy

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 02:08:00 +0000

Wolf Mates (Collection)
by Dakota Cassidy

Cover art: Sahara Kelly
ISBN: 978-1-60521-686-7
Genre(s): Paranormal, Action Adventure/ Suspense, Humor & Satire
Theme(s): Werewolves, Shapeshifters
Series: Wolf Mates
Length: Collection
Page Count: 347

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1747

Blurb

Derrick Adams is not happy. His pack of werewolves isn't like all the others...
Derrick's brother Max found his lifemate in the pound, he has a cousin who's a vegetarian, and Xavier Wolf comes from a pride, instead of a pack. Lassiter Adams isn't exactly what he seems, either. Neither is his parakeet!
Now Derrick has a lifemate of his own -- and she isn't barking. You'll laugh, you'll sigh, and you'll need a fan, because these stories are exceptionally hot!
This collection contains the previously released novellas An American Werewolf in Hoboken, What's New Pussycat?, Moon Over Manhasset, and Ruff & Ready. This collection is also available in print!
Excerpt
Wolf Mates (Collection)
Dakota Cassidy
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Dakota Cassidy
Excerpt from What's New Pussycat?
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.

"Meow."

"Do you see?" Derrick Adams hollered as he held up the cat carrier, thrusting it in his brother Max's face. A black paw, claws unleashed, reached out to swipe at Max's face. Max reached his finger into the carrier's front. "Hey, kitty..." he cooed, making an irritating clicking noise with his tongue.

The paw reached out again, unsheathing its claws once more, and the cat carrier hissed. Max jumped back as the cage rocked in Derrick's hands.

Tell me, foolish one, what makes humans believe that we kitties enjoy a finger shoved in our faces? Bring it here, boy-toy. Lemme show you what pretty teeth I have...

Mortals were so unbelievably stupid, especially male mortals. Even if they were good looking, Martine Brooks thought. She felt the hair on her back lift in irritation as the silly human tried again to soothe her with a finger that might result in a bloody stump if he didn't back off.

He stuck his handsome face in the opening of the cage and purred at her. Martine yawned.

If only you knew how desperately stupid you look. Max, is it?

However, in order to keep from blowing her cover, Martine had to play the game. She'd yet to figure out what she was undercover for, but whatever. She only knew she shouldn't shift and she sensed that, even if she didn't know the reasons why. It did, however, mean something was preventing her. Be it intuition or premonition, she just knew her best bet was to remain in her cat form. At least for now until she could figure out what in all of creation she was doing here. Martine prepared for a good howl, thus indicating that the pretty boys should go away and leave her the hell alone while she waited to be set free and get some wide open space to shift in.

This time she got closer to the cage opening and howled for all she was worth into Max's face. As pitifully as her vocal cords would allow, just like she'd seen other cats do on Animal Planet.

"Maybe you should take her to your place and let her out of the cage, Derrick?" the pretty dark-haired girl said as she winced.

Well, duh. Very astute. A good stretch was just what she needed. She'd suffered as much indignity as one girl could handle in a lifetime.

The man named Derrick shook her cage. "Be quiet, would you! God," he complained, "she could wake the dead. So, Max, what do you intend to do about this?"

Max shook his head and slapped Derrick on the back. "Nothin' I can do, Derrick. Your prophecy is your prophecy. You know Eva's chicken soup."

Yes, it was good for the soul, wasn't it? What prophecy? Martine wondered.

Derrick held up the cage again. She really wished he'd stop rocking the damn thing. A hairball was bound to hurl from her throat at warp speed if he kept this up.

"This -- this -- is my prophecy?" Martine heard Derrick yell, disbelief lacing his tone. "How in all of the animal kingdom can this be my prophecy?"

Max shrugged his shoulders and the pretty dark-haired woman spoke again. "I didn't believe it either, Derrick, but who can say when you'll find love -- or with whom?"

Love? Um, no, no.

What was this, Mutual of Omaha? No love. Martine needed to get the hell out of this damn cage and shift so she could get the frig away from these people and their wing-nut prophecies. She believed in spells and stuff. No prophecies.

"Well, Derrick," Max said. "Guess what? She's all yours. Eva hasn't been wrong so far. Now go away. I have pups to make." The dark-haired woman giggled, rather flirty and stupid if you asked Martine.

But NO ONE was asking the cat.

"My lifemate is not a Goddamn cat!"

Whoa... stop right there, hot stuff. Lifemate? Did these people dig into the catnip or what? She didn't have a lifemate. Martine belonged to a warlock and had for many years now, cursed to spend the rest of her life at his beck and call. Oh, Escobar was just gonna love this. She was Escobar's familiar and he wasn't going to be too pleased about this little turn of events.

"Wolves do not mate with cats!" Derrick roared and shook the cage again for emphasis. Martine's stomach lurched.

Wolves? Like woof-woof? Full moons and carnivores?

That was it. Martine couldn't stop the roll of her stomach. She heaved a long moment and then coughed, opening her mouth wide.

"And now, it's gonna puke," Derrick said sarcastically.

Ick. Martine gagged and finally relieved her throat of the ball lodged in it since this lunatic had stuffed her into this cage.

How's that for ya? A round hairball lay at her feet.

Whew, that was better.

Unattractive, but better.
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Fire and Ice Collection by Alecia Monaco

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

Fire and Ice (Collection)
by Alecia Monaco

Cover art: Zuri
ISBN: 978-1-60521-697-3
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy
Theme(s): Ménage, Vampires, Shapeshifters, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Length: Collection
Page Count: 157

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1744

Blurb
Fae, vampires, a werewolf, an ice maiden, and a banshee collide in this collection of Celtic tales.
Cabin Fever: There's trouble brewing in the preternatural community of Snowfire, Alaska. The only way to stave off certain war is for the leaders of the weres, witches, and vampires to form a sexual triad. When these three hit the sheets, cabin fever is the last thing on their minds!
Ice Maiden: When Sebastian creates an ice sculpture, he makes an ice maiden whose frozen beauty surpasses his wildest dreams. He begins to wonder if the perfect woman might be a reality, after all. That is, if he can keep her from melting away when dawn falls...
King Jack's Ball: All Hallows Eve... destined to be yet another humdrum event among the Court of the Dark Sidhe, until a whisper of magic touches the party goers. Can a spell cast by the legendary pumpkin king evoke sizzling passion between a blood fey and a Sidhe princess?
Kiss of the Fairy: Siobhan, the Irish Love Fairy, makes matches for Irish people everywhere. When Patrick O'Neil turns out to be matchless, Siobhan must assume human form and find out why Patrick seems destined to be single. There's more to the story than she ever imagined...
Romancing the Banshee: Aisling is a banshee, one of the Celtic fairies in charge of sounding the death call for mortals. But the sexy mortal in question happens to be immune to Aisling's death call. The passion between them seems unavoidable. But who wants Declan dead -- and why?

Excerpt
Fire & Ice (Collection)
Alecia Monaco
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Alecia Monaco
Excerpt from Cabin Fever
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 take it you all understand why you're here." Torngasak stroked his long white beard with a frail hand.
Aurora Tabor gave the wizard a cautious glance before turning to the two men opposite her. The hungry expression in their eyes was enough to tell her everything she needed to know and more. "Yes." She nodded slowly. "I think we're all clear about our mission here."
"Good." Torngasak cleared his throat. "The preternatural community is counting on the three of you to form a triad tonight." The ancient wizard inclined his head toward Amal. "The full moon is only one night away, so your pack will be one day away from shifting." Torngasak's gaze moved slowly back to Aurora. "The timing is very important."
Isn't it always, Aurora thought, trying not to roll her eyes. As high priestess of the ice witches, it was her job to form an alliance with the local vampires and shifters.
Unfortunately, the only way to create a triad of power was through sex.
A three-way, to be more specific.
"You will all three be locked in this cabin until just before dawn." The wizard looked at his gold pocket watch. "That should give you plenty of time to complete your task." He glanced at the vampire across from him. "As you are a daywalker, there's no need to worry about exposing you to the sun?"
Ellis nodded his head. "Correct."
The wizard sighed. "Then I leave you three to your mission."
With a click of the lock, the wizard shut the door, trapping the three of them in the mountain cabin together for the night.

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White Hot Christmas: Christmas Stalkings by Cassidy McKay

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

White Hot Christmas: Christmas Stalkings
by Cassidy McKay

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-740-6
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: White Hot Christmas
Length: Hot Flash

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1742

Blurb:
What's a Christmas Elf to do when he wants to sex up the North Pole a bit? Make adult toys, of course!
When Henry's Elven magic goes awry, Santa's workshop will never be the same.
Excerpt:
White Hot Christmas: Christmas Stalkings
Cassidy McKay
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Cassidy McKay

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.

Henry peered out from behind a cup on Abby's bedroom dresser, one that held mismatched earrings and shiny rocks and all the girly do-dads she'd collected over the years.
A well-worn letter in a torn, hand-written envelope stuck out from underneath a gaily painted tray, shoved there as if hidden in a moment of frustration. Curious, Henry eased it out, pausing when the woman's light snore echoed from the bed. He read the short note in the light from the window.
Abby, it's over. I'll be spending Christmas with my new girlfriend.
Sorry for the short notice.
Reid.
It was dated December 24th, two years ago.
"Damn, that was harsh. Merry fucking Christmas." Henry dropped the letter and looked around, enjoying his new tiny size and comparing his working parts, in true manly fashion, to objects around him. Unfortunately, having a large penis in comparison to a push pin wasn't very good for his ego, so he jumped down and zapped himself back to his normal size.
Looking for anything to indicate there was a man in her life; he checked the bathroom and the closet. After reading the letter, he suspected there probably wasn't, but better to be sure.
A dusty box of condoms and an abandoned container of birth control pills were the only evidence of a sex life he came up with, other than a well-read magazine full of muscled men in tiny thongs that didn't even cover their asses.
Curious. Human men were clearly built different than Elves. From what he could see, those thongs wouldn't hold anything big enough to keep a gnat happy, but to each their own. She seemed to like what she saw in the magazine, so that was good enough for him.
"She's even lonelier than I am. She can definitely use some of my purple Christmas magic. Making her happy should score well for me getting back to the North Pole."
He headed for the dining nook and did a big purple whammy on the socks. Surely the magic would work right this time. After all, he wasn't including the Pulsating Purple People Pleaser, or the Anatomically Correct but Politically Incorrect Mistress Matilda statue in this woman's Christmas stockings. Those both needed more work before they were ready to try out on the public again.
This, now... this was just a little innocent magic to help a lonely girl for Christmas. His special stocking stuffers would fulfill her every desire and she'd be happy again.
With his pinkie in his ear, a grab of his ass and an awkward double twirl to the right, he vanished from sight before the pedestrian whistling for a cab outside woke her.
* * *
Abby stumbled into the kitchen for a drink without bothering to turn the lights on. The ambient glow from the streetlight was usually enough for her to find her way. Yet tonight, the glow was absent.
Maybe it's cloudy outside.
She felt her way along the wall and crossed the dining room toward the kitchen, only to run into a solid wall where there shouldn't be one. Abby stuck out her hands, and felt... skin. Warm, solid, muscled, skin, dusted with hair.
Male skin.
She screamed, prompting another warm, solid, muscled male body to slide behind her, his hand gently covering her mouth. She was bracketed by them in an almost naked Abby sandwich.
No way, Jose! I've seen this kind of movie too many times. I'm not gonna end up on the wrong side of a slasher film with screeching music after letting some strangers feel me up.
The man in front of her framed her face with his hands as if he wanted to kiss her, so she placed her palms on either side of his waist as he drew near, pulling him just a little bit closer.
Thud!
The guy in front of her went down with a whimper, her sharp knee right on target. She flung her head back toward the man behind her, hoping he was close enough and short enough for her skull to hit him in the face.
She was correct on both guesses, and the second man went down. Abby ran for her cell phone and the front door, dialing 9-1-1 as she fumbled with the locks.
The phone went dead. Dropping the useless thing, she undid four of the locks by feel before she heard the men stirring. She shot a glance behind her and doubled her efforts, only to find all the locks re-secured when she turned the light on. "Holy crap! What the hell is going on?" I know I undid those locks. I've done it a thousand times.
"We're your Christmas presents, Abby." A man's pained voice sounded from the bodies she'd left near the kitchen.
Abby turned toward them after glancing again at the dead cell phone. The locks, she couldn't explain.
The men rose shakily, helping each other up. Two nearly identical "steaming hot, muscled hunks of love," her girlfriends at work would call them. She could easily imagine her friends pushing each other out of the way to shove crisp dollar bills down the men's tight, brightly colored little thongs. Thongs in Chicago in December? Oh no. "Uhm... you said you were my Christmas presents?"
They nodded in tandem.
"Did Mandy and Kim send you? I told them not to get me anything for Christmas, damn it!"
The men shrugged, and the one with the bloodied nose pulled a towel away from his face. "We don't know who sent us, Abby, just that we're here to grant your every desire."
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White Hot Christmas: Emmy's Wish by Ayla Ruse

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

White Hot Christmas: Emmy's Wish
by Ayla Ruse

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-721-5
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Magic, Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: White Hot Christmas
Length: Hot Flash
Page Count: 29

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1741

Blurb:
Hey Santa,
This year, I want a BIG, real live man as my present. In case you aren't sure what I mean, I want BIG, um, male parts. I'm willing to negotiate to have him only one day -- preferably Christmas Day.
Your ever faithful worker ~ Emmy.
Excerpt:
White Hot Christmas: Emmy's Wish
Ayla Ruse
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Ayla Ruse

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.

Emmy woke up Christmas morning hopeful, excited, and with eyes squeezed shut. She took a deep breath and peeked to her right.
Damn. No hulking male. Instead, there was a shiny little golden bell resting on the pillow next to her head. "Thanks, Santa," she mumbled as she picked it up and gave it a little shake. Its tune spread high and bright through her room, and Emmy sighed. In truth, she wasn't surprised to find her bed empty -- again. Hopeful, but not surprised.
"No sense staying in bed if it's empty." Determined to enjoy her Christmas day, she climbed out from under the red satin sheets, naked -- ever hopeful -- and rummaged through the top of her messy bureau. Finding what she wanted, she picked out a shiny red and green twisted ribbon, which she threaded through the bell. She hung this around her neck, admiring how the bell rested perfectly in the shallow valley of her breasts.
She tapped the bell, smiled at the pretty tinkling sound, then cupped her small breasts and flicked her nipples. "Sorry, girls. Looks like we're flying solo again this year." Shrugging her shoulders, she bounced out of her bedroom.
Her destination: the kitchen, and breakfast. Even though it was still early and not much sunlight filtered in, she didn't turn on her lights. She'd decorated the high, open beams throughout her cottage with bright, twinkling, multi-colored rope lights, lending a festive glow throughout her home. Dancing a little to make her bell sing as she made her way into the living room, she didn't pay attention around her, and her leg banged against something solid.
Off balance, she fell over the obstacle and landed hard on the floor.
"Mmm, Merry Christmas to me," a low, male voice resonated through the room.
Emmy froze with her forearms on the floor, and her waist caught over what she quickly realized was a male leg.
"Does that sweet ass come with a face?" the voice inquired seductively.
Her initial embarrassment fled and excitement poured through her. She pushed up to her hands, turned her head and became speechless at the sight of the male draped across her couch. As she looked up his length, his clothing stood out first. His pants and shirt shimmered a blue and white blend that reminded her of the frozen lakes out back. She smiled at the bulge growing under his pants, but moved her gaze up to his face. His dark skin stood out starkly against so much white. It was difficult to pinpoint under the glow of the lights, but she'd put his coloring at a light smoky gray. Like the first shadows to fall at dusk. His white hair was long, thick, and shaggy -- not in a derelict way, but more of a blending in with nature kind of way.
She stopped breathing when their gazes locked. His eyes were white, with icy blue irises and a brighter starburst of white for pupils. He tilted his head and her gaze averted to his pointed ears. Elf's ears. It couldn't be. "You're an Elf?" she asked incredulously.
He nodded. "I'm a Border Elf."
"The ones that protect and patrol the North Pole? I'd heard you guys were ugly."
The Border Elf laughed out loud.
"You are definitely not ugly," she said hurriedly, teetering on his leg as she worked herself upright. Once on her feet, she didn't stay there for long. She crawled right up and over the male and straddled his hips as if she'd done so a million times before.
"Whoa." He grinned. His blinding smile dazzled her. "What's this about?"
"Santa sent you, right?"
"He did. He told me he had an Elf who wanted to play with a Border for a day."
She clapped her hands and, raising her head, whispered, "Thank you, Santa." Looking back into the arresting face of the male underneath her, she said, "You're my gift. I get to play with you all day!"
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White Hot Christmas: Stripping Christmas by Zenobia Renquist

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

White Hot Christmas: Stripping Christmas
by Zenobia Renquist

Cover art: Reneé George
ISBN: 978-1-60521-716-1
Genre(s): Urban Fantasy, Hot Flashes
Theme(s): Interracial/MultiCultural, Magic, Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures
Series: White Hot Christmas
Length: Hot Flash

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1740

Blurb:
Alex thought she was going to a job. Instead she ends up marrying the heir to the title of Santa Claus. The vows have been said and cannot be taken back, even if Alex isn't the ideal bride Kris was hoping for to re-energize the powers of the House of Kringle. But Alex is about to teach him that being a little naughty -- or a lot -- can go a long way.
Excerpt:
White Hot Christmas: Stripping Christmas
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Zenobia Renquist

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

A red limo. Not just any red, Christmas red. Very appropriate for the season. The man standing beside the limo wore a green chauffeur's suit with an Elf hat and pointed ears to finish off the look. If he were three feet shorter, he would have been perfect for the motif.
He caught sight of her staring at him and bowed. "Miss Alexanna Laurel Ford?"
She nodded. "That's me."
"I am No'l, miss. I have come to retrieve you." He opened the door as he held out his hand to her.
Alex let him guide her forward into the limo. She'd never had anyone hand her into a car before. It was a novel experience. She pulled her long coat in after her and got comfortable.
"Ready, miss?"
"Yes."
No'l closed the door gently, went to the driver's seat and guided the limo onto the highway.
Alex asked, "How far are we going?"
"The North Pole, miss."
"Cute. Now where are we really going?"
No'l glanced over his shoulder at her quickly. "I... I'm not sure what you mean, miss. I have answered your question."
"Okay." She settled back, prepared to play along. She had her cell phone with built in GPS and personal locater if this job turned sour. Her little purse also had a mini baton and a very sharp metal nail file. She hoped she wouldn't need any of that but was happy she had them.
They only drove for twenty minutes before No'l stopped the limo in front of a grand hotel that could only be described as a winter palace. It had to be at least ten floors of white brick that glistened in the setting sunlight. Something else that was very appropriate for the season.
She didn't remember there being any hotels like this in her area, though. Before she could open the door to get a better look around, No'l opened it for her and offered his hand. She took it and stepped out into snow.
Snow?
Snow crunched under her shoes. The walkway where she stood had been recently swept, but the lightly falling snow had started covering it again. Around her as far as she could see was a vast snowfield. She looked around for buildings of some kind and saw nothing.
A faint twinkling made her look up. She stared with wide eyes at the shimmering Aurora Borealis. "No way," she whispered.
No'l bowed to her and said, "Welcome to the North Pole, miss." He led her through the large double doors of the winter palace to a grand foyer where ten women dressed in green maid outfits waited. Like No'l, each of the women had pointed ears. Gesturing to the ladies, No'l said, "These ladies will be your maids. They will help you dress for the evening."
"Okay." Alex didn't know what they were putting her in that she had to have help getting it on, but she was willing to continue playing along.
Three hours later, Alex stood in front of a mirror, staring. She barely recognized herself. Her microbraids had been put into an up-do with a few braid strands pulled free to frame her face in spiral curls. A thin, silver circlet around her head held a dangling ruby that between her light brown eyes. Matching teardrop rubies graced her ears.
The kicker was the wedding dress. That was the only word to describe it. It had a halter-style top with a flowing skirt that brushed the floor. The dress was all white, like a wedding dress, except for the red trim lining the neckline of the halter and the red lace border trimming the hem of the skirt, which trailed two feet behind her.
She wore red slippers but couldn't see them in the mirror. What she could see almost brought tears to her eyes. She had never worn such a beautiful dress before. And she didn't normally like wearing white. It made her dark complexion look ashen. This dress, however, made her brown skin look like it was glowing.
One of the maids walked up behind Alex and held out a large, cascading bouquet of red and white poinsettias. "It's time, miss."
Alex followed the maid to the door where No'l waited for her. He offered her his arm and took her down in the elevator to the second floor. They exited to the melodic sound of a piano playing Carol of the Bells.
Everyone in the large room faced the elevator. Alex knew she had to look spooked, but she couldn't help it. This really looked and felt like a wedding. This was a bit much of a production for a night's entertainment. She'd heard of a few of the other girls having weird clients, but never someone doing a mock wedding.
No'l walked her down the aisle toward the man who awaited her at the altar. He stood there alone, though. There was no best man or priest. At least they wouldn't take this make believe wedding too far.
That helped Alex relax, and she smiled. It wasn't that hard to smile, considering every step took her closer to a very handsome man. He must be her patron. He stood tall and serious, waiting for her.
His platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Since he stood sideways with his face turned toward her, Alex could see the ponytail reached past his shoulders. Like the others, he had long, pointed ears. Unlike the others, his ears extended higher, almost to the top of his head. It was a very dramatic effect.
His toned body was dressed in a full-length red Mandarin collar tuxedo. The jacket of the tuxedo brushed the tops of his knees and was left open, revealing his white vest and shirt. Red slacks and shiny black shoes finished the look.
As she drew closer, Alex saw more details of her eccentric patron. His chin sported a thin platinum goatee that traced up the edges of his jawline, and his eyes were a stunning shade of true blue.
No'l stopped one step away from the man, who stood a full head taller than Alex. She smiled up at him. No'l took Alex's hand from his elbow and held it out to the man at the altar.
The man said as he took her hand, "I am Kristijonasario. I bid you welcome to my home, Alexanna."
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All I Want for Christmas by Shelby Morgen

noreply@blogger.com (Lena Austin) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 06:00:00 +0000

Spotlight: All I Want for Christmas
by Shelby Morgen

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-59596-084-9
Genre(s): Action Adventure/ Suspense, Guilty Pleasures (Contemporary)
Theme(s): Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Dark Desire
Series: C.H.A.S.E.
Length: Novel
Page Count: 95

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=84

Blurb:
The wrong place.

Candy Nelson has wandered into a nightmare -- a slave auction in Southeast Asia.

The wrong time.

Things like this don't happen -- not in the twenty-first century.

One wrong move could get her killed.

One woman. Alone. She isn't supposed to be here. She needs to get out. Now.

But from across the room, a man raises his head, and his eyes meet hers. And Candy knows she'll do whatever it takes to buy this stranger his freedom. Though setting him free is the farthest thought from her mind...

Publisher's Note: All I Want For Christmas is book one of the C.H.A.S.E. Series, available in collection as Plain Brown Wrapper (C.H.A.S.E. Collection) by Shelby Morgen.
Excerpt:
C.H.A.S.E. 1: All I Want For Christmas
Shelby Morgen
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2004 by Shelby Morgen

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.

2:45 PM Friday, 17 December 2004
A dilapidated warehouse somewhere in Malaysia

The gavel hung in midair while the auctioneer waited. Nothing. At last the German turned away, his nostrils flaring in anger as he shook his head.

"Sold!" The gavel banged on the rickety wooden podium, echoing through the room. All other sound ceased. "To the lady in the white suit."

Candy finally remembered to breathe. The auction workers brought her purchase to her, and Candy handed over a stack of American dollars.

Now what?

She turned to face the incredible hunk standing before her.

Good Lord. What had she done?

1:15 PM Friday, 17 December 2004
Singapore Changi Airport

Candy ran for the cab pulling up in the loading area, but before she could flag the driver down, he was gone. "I hate Christmas!"

She dropped the handle of her rather unwieldy luggage cart. Predictably, it collapsed, raining suitcases across the sidewalk. She jammed the toe of her black leather pump into the nearest bag. Ouch. Shit. That was stupid.

Lord, she was tired. Airport security was so tight now it had taken her over an hour to get through customs.

She was going to be late.

Candy hated being late.

Goddamnit. She watched yet another taxi drive away. I shouldn't even be here. Any of the junior attorneys could have handled the job, but not even an all-expense-paid trip to Singapore could get anyone else to take an out-of-the-country assignment over the holidays.

Well, she would have been just as alone back in New York. No matter how you looked at it, the holidays sucked.

It wasn't just Christmas. Her birthday fell on December 25th. The worst part was her parents had wanted a Christmas baby. But now they were gone, and there was no one around who would even remember it was her birthday, let alone go out of their way to make the day special for her.

Time, as Richard would say, to move on.

Asshole.

The thought of Richard gave her enough energy to pick up her suitcases and search for a cab.

Funny how Richard and asshole just naturally went together.

She'd bet a hundred dollars it was Richard-the-asshole who'd screwed with her flight schedule. She should have landed last night, just before midnight. Instead she'd ended up on the later flight with a plane change at LAX. Twenty-nine nerve-wracking hours after taking off from BWI she was finally in Singapore. It wasn't even about the money, though he'd probably saved a grand on the tickets. No, it was about keeping her under his thumb.

Screw you, you sanctimonious bastard. I will not miss this auction, damn you.

A cab pulled up to disgorge a touristy looking couple overburdened with packages. "Taxi!" Candy screamed. Jerking hard on the handle of her luggage cart, she raced for the cab, waving madly at the driver. "Taxi!"

This driver actually came around to help her with her bags. Maybe her luck was changing. While the driver piled her luggage into the trunk, Candy poured herself into the back of the cab, ready to pass out. She'd dressed for winter in New York, not the warmth of Singapore. "The Mandarin Oriental, please."

"Shiok, lah?"

He didn't speak English? Well, that was just great. Lah she was pretty sure meant yes in Malay, but shiok she didn't have a clue about. She held out her confirmation email and pointed to the address.

"Lah," the driver agreed. At least she hoped he was agreeing to take her to the hotel. He wasn't her idea of a hot date. Once he got started, he chattered non-stop, waving his hand at various buildings as they wound their way across town. Blah, blah, blah, blah…

Candy closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. The light breeze brought the smell of the ocean in with it. The Mandarin Oriental, Singapore, sat right on the bay. She'd have breakfast tomorrow on her balcony, overlooking the Keppel Harbour, in an opulent and exclusive hotel, newly remodeled.

The Mandarin Oriental was one of the few luxuries she permitted herself. After all, it was... appropriate. It fit the corporate image. The concierge knew her by name. There would be stationery in the drawer with her name printed on it. Room service would have a double espresso sent up precisely at 7:00 AM, with the New York Times, delivered in English.

All that luxury came with a price, and Richard-the-asshole was picking up the tab. She reminded herself to order room service more often. Would serve him right if she'd brought along an "assistant" and charged the entire trip for two off to her expense account.

She would have, too, if she had an assistant. But that was his department. Bastard.

The driver pulled to a stop in front of the Mandarin Oriental. Candy gave him a twenty-dollar tip to wait while she checked in. She'd put that on her expense account too. It was Richard's fault she was late.

This was her time now. Visions of crisp silk and aging bisque brought a smile to her lips. She didn't bother to follow her bags up to the suite. They'd be unpacked by the time she returned. If the driver hauled ass and it wasn't too far away she could still make the most important part of the auction -- a dozen late 1800's vintage Bru Bebes, all from the same collection, all pristine, with their original boxes. Too bad she couldn't afford all of them, but even she didn't have that kind of money. At least not on her, in cash. Unless they went very, very reasonably, she'd be doing well to manage one...

The cabdriver shook his head adamantly when she showed him the Web page she'd printed out. "Sotong! No woman! No go! Terok! Ulu, kayu, lah?"

No woman? What the hell did that mean? The auction had started over twenty minutes ago. She didn't have time for this. She waved the printouts at him. "Auction," she explained. She pointed to the picture of a little girl holding an antique china doll. "Auction. Antique auction. This address."

The man shook his head. "No go. Terok, ulu. No woman. No go."

Sweat trickled down her shoulders in an irritating and unbecoming fashion. Candy searched her phrase book impatiently. "Auction," she attempted in Malay. Assuming he spoke Malay. "Where I come from women go to auctions all the time. Alone." She tapped the face of her watch. "I'm late." She held out two more Singapore twenties.

Finally the man snatched the money from her hands, still muttering in a curious mix of Malaysian and broken English as he turned the key in the ignition. Candy smiled smugly as the cab lurched forward with a cough and a sputter.

After all, it was Brasden-Marten's expense account. She was here on company business. The American fifties stowed in her purse were her own, to be spent however she wished, and he couldn't say a thing. Not any more. Her "ridiculous hobby" was an asset he despised too much to even bother to get appraised.

Moron.

She tried to focus on the joy of the hunt, the impending victory. Maybe if she closed her eyes, just for a moment while the cab took her across town… Maybe a tiny, short little power nap and she'd regain her equilibrium. Maybe...

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