Jul 11

New Release Blitz: Terror by J. Hali Steele (Excerpt & Giveaway)

 

Author: Mychael Black

Cover Art: Bryan Keller

Genres: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Mystery & Suspense, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Urban Fantasy

Themes: Dark Romance, LGBTQ+ /Sex/Gender Shifters & MPreg, LGBTQ+ Gay, Vampires

Series: Splintered Bloodlines (#1)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 77

Description

Humans and vamps were never meant to be mates, but an accidental meeting changes everything.

Cam Sharpe is just trying to make ends meet. Living in the city can easily break the bank, but that’s where the jobs are. It’s also where crime runs rampant. One night, he finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, putting him in the crosshairs of the city’s ruling vampire coven.

Nikolai Hart loves his job — maybe a little too much. When hunting a rogue proves to be a pain in the ass, he’s the one House Saridan brings in to find the unfortunate soul. The latest job, however, has hit a snag: a mortal has witnessed everything.

Excerpt

Burn (Splintered Bloodlines 1)
Mychael Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Mychael Black

Cameron

I hated living in the city. There were too many people, most of whom couldn’t drive worth a damn. I barely managed to dodge a car that threatened to sideswipe me. I thought the asshole driver shouted something, but I just tossed the man a one-fingered salute. Rain pelted the city, which made deliveries a bit more complicated, especially on a bicycle. Still, the bike afforded me the chance to make it into tight spots a car could not. Traffic was a bitch, but that was city life. I’d been here for three years now and had managed to escape the need for a car. The exercise was good, at any rate.

I reached the towering apartment building and secured my bike to a lamppost. The expressionless doorman stood at the front. Dressed in a black tux, complete with white gloves, he fit right in with the building’s occupants.

Once inside, I flashed my badge hanging on its lanyard to the guard behind the desk and continued toward the elevators. A few well-dressed residents gave me a bit of the good ol’ side-eye, but I ignored them. Hell, I’d probably delivered dinner to them half a million times.

The elevator doors opened, and I held it for the others. When they didn’t move to enter, I shrugged and stepped inside, letting the doors close before they could change their haughty minds. I watched the display tick through the floor numbers until it reached the seventh floor. As soon as I exited, I heard music.

Down the hall, an apartment door opened, and a half-naked man waved. I met him and handed over the food.

“Wanna join?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Thanks, man, but I can’t. Still a few more hours before I can officially ‘clock out’ for the night.”

“You clock out?”

“Not really. I set my own hours, but this pays the bills, so, yeah, set times and all.”

“Ah.”

Shouts from inside cut the chat short. “Well, thanks!” the guy said, holding up the bag.

“No problem.”

Alone in the hall, I went back to the elevators. Thank the gods the tips were included in the app when ordering.

Back down on the street, I sighed. I wished I could stop for the night. I was tired, utterly sick of the damn rain, and hadn’t eaten in several hours. The sun had already set enough to make the streetlights come on along the sidewalks. I rolled the bike a few feet away from the lingering crowd and headed off to my next pick-up.

People swarmed the streets, most of them club hoppers. I’d done that years ago but had outgrown it. Random hook-ups in dark corners no longer satisfied me, but in a city this big, I wasn’t sure I’d ever find anyone who would. Most of the people I’d met so far were superficial and vain, perfectly content to spend a night getting laid by one person before moving on to the next.

An order came in, and the GPS piped up to let me know there was a shortcut to the restaurant. Happy to avoid the crowd, I turned down the alley the GPS designated. I ignored the few slumped figures along both sides. I’d learned the hard way a couple of years ago after a mugging not to carry cash. Now I only carried my ID, keys, phone, and a trusty can of mace.

The end of the alley branched left and right. The GPS told me to go left. Just as I started that way, commotion to the right startled me.

A tall, black-clad figure landed feet-first onto the wet pavement and grabbed a man from the ground. The man choked and struggled as the stranger spoke, voice low enough that I couldn’t hear what was said. Whatever it was, though, seemed to terrify the man he held captive.

The stranger growled — literally growled — and tore the man’s throat wide open with his fucking teeth.

I nearly wrecked the bike trying to get away. I pedaled as fast as my legs could, and the burn was almost too much. I reached the Chinese restaurant and stuck as close to the building as possible. After a few seconds of struggling to catch my breath, I locked my bike to a lamppost before heading inside.

I had zero doubt that I’d just seen a vampire executing someone. Vamps weren’t unknown, but they tended to keep to themselves. They also weren’t anything like what stories and movies portrayed them to be. Real vampires weren’t undead; they were an entirely different species. Stronger, faster, and far more deadly than any human could ever dream of being.

Safe in the restaurant, I shot a quick glance back out the door. Whatever I’d just witnessed wasn’t my business. Not like cops would do shit anyway. Vamps governed themselves, and the police were scared shitless of them.

Pushing it out of my mind for now, I shuddered and headed to the counter. Ten minutes later, I was on my way to the drop-off point. Despite needing the money, I ended my shift after handing over the food. Just before I left the area, though, I caught sight of the stranger from the alley. Those eyes locked onto mine.

Hopping onto the bike, I made a beeline for my tiny efficiency apartment. It wasn’t much, but it had a wonderfully huge deadbolt on the door.

I leaned back against the door as soon as I locked it. Eyes closed, I tried to get rid of the images from the alley. It wasn’t the first crime I’d seen in this damned city, but it was definitely the first time a vampire had been involved. At least that I knew of, at any rate.

“Get a grip, Cam,” I muttered. “Not the first, won’t be the last.”

I pushed off the door and tossed my keys onto the narrow bar separating the kitchenette from the living area. I couldn’t even call it an actual room, really. The only true room was the bathroom, and even that was about the size of a small walk-in closet. Overall, the place wasn’t much, but it was home and, to be honest, all I could afford.

Before I could contemplate dinner or a shower, my grumbling stomach made up its own mind. A quick glance in the fridge, and then the freezer, reminded me that I needed to hit the store down the block sooner rather than later. I didn’t cook, despite knowing how to, since it was just me here. Most of my meals tended to be sandwiches or frozen dinners, or, if money allowed, something quick while I was working. Tonight, though, peanut butter and jelly would have to do.

A few minutes later, I settled onto the futon that doubled as my bed and watched the news on my only splurge: a smart TV. I nibbled on my meager dinner as one report after another went on. I popped the last bite into my mouth, only to nearly choke on it.

The same dark-clad figure I’d seen in the alley was positioned behind one of the head vamps in the city during a news conference that, according to the info at the bottom of the screen, occurred earlier today. The muscle-bound watchdog stood ready to spring to action at the slightest hint of trouble.

Pitch black hair hung over broad shoulders, and the man’s five-o’clock shadow covered a stern, tight jawline. Eyes that looked almost as black as his hair seemed to scan the entire room. Though he kept his hands behind him, I could imagine those strong arms tensing. And he was tall. Jesus, he was fucking tall. Even more than the vampire in front of him. A morbid desire to stare up into those insanely dark eyes swept through me.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts. Vamps are fucking trouble.”

I changed the channel and found a nature documentary instead. Maybe watching meerkats would cleanse my brain of insane ideas like wanting to unwrap all those muscles.

Gods, I was nuts.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Mychael Black has been writing professionally since 2005. He writes gay romance and erotica, but also het romance as Carys Seraphine and queer fantasy as Katherine Cook.

He’s an avid PC gamer with a love for RPGs, a horror fanatic, and a fantasy nut. He also has a weakness for anything relating to skulls, dogs, and Spongebob Squarepants.

Mychael lives on the Eastern Shore of the US with his family. He loves to hear from readers, be it via email or Facebook.

Website | Facebook

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $10.00 Changeling Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

Jul 01

New Release Blitz: The Rivers Will Run Red by Keira North (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: The Rivers Will Run Red

Series: House of Drǎculeşti

Author: Keira North

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 07/01/2025

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 81100

Genre: Paranormal, urban fantasy, dark, supernatural, immortal, vampires, shifters, werewolves, merfolk, MLM romance, found family, nonbinary character, Transylvania, Romania, Romanian mythology, folklore, #ownvoices: Romanian author, #ownvoices: nonbinary author

Add to Goodreads

Description

In the wake of a devastating attack by a rogue coven of vampires, hunter-turned-werewolf Ileana returns to the ruins of her family home. Believing her sister, Tamara, survived the attack, Ileana seeks the help of Liviu, the werewolf who turned her, and Evdochia, a hauntingly powerful vampire descended from Vlad Țepeș himself.

The attack is the first strike in a looming war threatening the fragile truce between humans and mythical nightwalkers. With time slipping away and danger closing in from all sides, Ileana and her allies must race to find Ravenswatch, the ancient fortress where the vampire coven is preparing to strike again.

Excerpt

The Rivers Will Run Red
Keira North © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Girl Who Cried Wolf

“When the blood moon rises, beware of the pricolici.”
— From the wisdom of werewolf hunters in Crișana-Banat

“It’s here, I swear,” Luca said. “Just a little farther.”

With a small nod, Ileana said, “Uh-huh.”

Her companion couldn’t see that, of course. He was already charging ahead through the underbrush, so she had no choice but to follow, pulling her ratty cardigan tighter around her bony shoulders. She was all of thirteen and outgrowing her old clothes faster than she could get new hand-me-downs. Whatever survived her nightly escapades usually found its way to her younger sister, Tamara, much to the latter’s chagrin.

Luca didn’t need to worry about the cold. He wore a thick, fur-padded coat that molded perfectly to his slim body. A boy of fifteen, more nimble than strong and taller than Ileana by a head, his hair was wheat-colored and unruly, and he had piercing blue eyes and thick brows that made him look like he was always frowning. Ileana felt a strange flutter in her stomach whenever he looked her way. She wanted him to look at her but also not, and she found the whole thing equal parts vexing and confusing.

Luca was already blooded too. On a family hunting trip to the southern reaches of Oltenia, he’d found and killed a moroi, a risen dead who’d been walking around for so long it was more bone than corpse. Luca talked about it like he’d offed the great Impaler himself. Still, his one kill trumped Ileana’s none.

Despite the full moon crossing the night sky somewhere above, the jumble of branches overhead cast a dense shroud over the sodden, uneven ground. Where Luca moved with the sure step of a journeyman hunter, Ileana had to stop and feel her way around tree stumps and patches of half-melted snow, pushing her long bangs out of her face every other step. Her hair was a dark, muddy brown in the sunlight. Here, under the canopy, it was black, and thick, and annoying.

“C’mon!” Luca shouted from somewhere ahead.

She walked faster, or at least as fast as her skinny legs could carry her. Where Luca was growing like a weed, Ileana was more of the short persuasion. For now, she’d tell herself whenever she looked in the mirror, standing on tiptoe and tilting her chin up.

A soft patch of earth gave way under her foot. With a startled yell, she fell forward, arms flailing in search of something to stop her fall. She felt a sting across the back of her right hand when she scraped it against the rough bark of a tree, but at least she’d stopped herself before she tumbled forward and scraped her knees too. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, swiftly followed by shame. She sniffled and bit her lower lip. Cradling her injured hand with her good one, she scurried ahead.

Soon, the trees dwindled away and the ground sloped gently downward toward a small pond, its ragged edges obscured by a dense thicket of cattails and pickerel weeds. With nothing to blot it out, the moon shone bright, its light tracing sparkling ripples across the water.

Pretty, Ileana thought.

And then, stealing a glance at her companion, He’s pretty too.

Luca was waiting for her by the water, toying with his hunting knife, his hair shimmering like threads of spun gold. He caught her eye and grinned wide, tossing the knife up in the air. He caught it by the tip, then tossed it again, catching it by the handle this time. The blade flashed in the moonlight. It looked like silver. Good for werewolves and basilisks, Ileana’s mind supplied, a rote response. She had her own knife stashed away in her boot, but the blade was steel, not silver. She rarely parted with it these days. Like a real hunter.

“Over there,” Luca said, turning away from her to wave his hand toward whatever they’d come here to find.

Ileana turned to follow the line of his finger to where he was pointing. She spotted a storm drain on the other side of the pond, an old, battered thing with bits of rebar poking through the crumbling concrete. She’d ventured inside a few times over the years. The way was barred by a sturdy metal grill some twenty paces in, but that hadn’t stopped her from pretending she was descending deep into another realm in search of glimmering treasure and forbidden magick. That was all make-believe, though, and she was done with it now that she was well on her way to being a grown-up. Hunters didn’t waste their time with make-believe. They found it, and they killed it.

“What’s there?” she asked.

“It’s a wolf,” the boy said, “and I’m gonna kill it.”

A gust of wind tickled them from the side, poking through Ileana’s cardigan and the flimsy shirt underneath. She stuck her hands deep into her pockets, hissing as the wound on the back of her hand scraped against the rough fabric.

“A wolf?” she said, her eyes flicking back to the drain. “Just the one?”

“Maybe it got lost, I dunno.”

“So how do you know it’s a wolf?” Ileana pressed. “It could be just a stray dog or—”

“Because I saw it, all right? Earlier, when I was…” The boy’s face twisted in a scowl that was more comical than angry.

“When you were, what?”

“Gramma sent me looking for frogs again.” He shuffled his foot.

Ileana snorted a laugh. “So, the mighty hunter went out to whack some toads with a stick. How’d you fare on that perilous adventure?”

“They taste good, okay? And, and anyway, that’s not—it doesn’t matter. I know there’s a wolf in there, and I’m gonna kill it and make something from its pelt.”

“You’re going to kill the wolf with a knife?” Ileana said, her left eyebrow quirking higher than the right one. “They’re stronger than humans, y’know. Faster too.”

“Don’t be stupid, Leana. This is what I’m gonna kill it with.” Speaking, Luca pulled aside his woolen coat enough to show her the revolver tucked into his waistband.

Ileana had seen that gun before, on an ornate plaque above the mantelpiece in Luca’s ancestral home on the other side of the hill. She’d asked one of her cousins to hold her up so she could look at it once, when she was smaller, and she remembered it clearly. The grip was silver with intricate bone inlays, a relic of a time when craftsmanship was still a thing. Luca’s family could trace their lineage all the way back to Aron Vulpe—Aron the Fox—the famed hunter who’d driven the vampires of the Țepeș clan from the hillsides of Crișana-Banat and into the far reaches of the Carpathian Mountains. Three hundred years later, their coffers still ran deep.

“Does your dad know you took that?” she asked, a hint of unease tinging her words. She’d seen the bruises on the boy’s face and wrists more than once.

He flashed her another grin. “I’ll have it back before he knows it’s gone. And you’re not gonna tell on me, yeah?”

“Maybe I won’t, if you ask me nice.” The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but Luca didn’t need to know that.

He pursed his lips. “If you’re gonna be like that, you can go home already.”

“But I already know,” Ileana said smugly.

“Then I’ll—I’ll make you something nice from its pelt, how about that?”

“I’ll kill my own,” she said, sweet as it was to think about getting a gift from him. “Or maybe I’ll kill a werewolf and take its pelt. And I won’t do it with some rusty old gun.”

He scoffed, looking her over. “Yeah, right. Maybe in a year or two.”

Ileana bristled at that. Every night, when her family went to sleep, she snuck out into the woods behind her home, Nightshade Lodge, and hacked and slashed until her arms grew so tired she couldn’t raise them anymore, practicing her knife throwing and fending off imaginary beasts. And she was getting good, she could tell.

That was where Luca had found her earlier tonight. “I wanna show you something,” he’d told her, and she’d let him talk her into coming along. Mostly because there was something about him that made her want to punch him in his stupidly handsome face and then kiss it all better. Not that she’d ever kissed anyone before, but she’d read about it in a book, and it didn’t sound all that bad.

The object of her secret thoughts snapped his fingers right under her nose, yanking her back into the present with a startled, “Huh?”

“I said, I’m going. You can stay here if you’re scared.”

“Pfft. I’m not scared. But,” she said after a moment, “are you sure—”

“Good. Let’s go.” He started ahead without waiting to hear the rest of the objection.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Keira North is a queer, nonbinary, Romanian author living in Montreal. They use storytelling as a medium to explore their heritage and identity and strive to be the change they want to see in the (literary) world. When they’re not writing, they like to make music, play video games, and read copious amounts of fanfiction and indie works.

Website | Instagram | Bluesky

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

Jun 27

New Release Blitz: Jack & Gil by Emily Carrington (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Jack & Gil

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Action Adventure, Box Sets, Dark Fantasy, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance, Urban Fantasy

Themes: 2nd Chance Romance, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, LGBTQ+ Gay, Multicultural & Interracial, Shapeshifters

Series: Jack & Gil (#4)

Multiverse: SearchLight Academy (#11)

Book Length: Box Set

Page Count: 470

Synopsis

Gilbert Sullivan, crown prince of the basilisks, hates his name, but he fears the rhyme may be prophecy.

Rhyme of Longing (Jack & Gil 1): When Prince Gilbert Sullivan meets Jack Sowerby, the new head of SearchLight, his attraction won’t let him stay away. Jack’s need for Prince Gilbert blossoms and he’s unable to resist — until he’s forcibly changed into a magical creature. Will their shattered relationship ever be restored?

Rhyme of Longing (Jack & Gil 2)

Jack is falling apart, but no one seems to notice. As Jack withdraws, the tide of war rises. Jack must find a way to regain his strength and determination or SearchLight will fall. And he’s convinced he must do it alone.

Rhyme of Love (Jack & Gil 3)

Gil struggles to hide his loss of status from Jack, but when he finally confesses, Jack blurts out his secret. Jack knows he screwed up. Well, almost. Running the risk of losing Gil, Jack must learn to lie convincingly, or he’ll lose SearchLight, his life, and Gil, as well.

Excerpt

Jack & Gil
Emily Carrington
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Emily Carrington
Excerpt from Rhyme of Longing

Jack wanted so badly to be done with this night that he felt uncomfortable in his skin. That was not the proper way to begin thinking about his sixty-eighth birthday, his five-year anniversary as the head of SearchLight Academy. This was a party for both those things but no one said “no” to Agent Weinberg.

Not necessarily the most powerful magical being in the world, she was still the head of the entire organization. Even though she held the nominal title of “head of Public Relations,” SearchLight’s whole reason for existing was to protect the relationship between magical and nonmagical peoples. Which was, of course, officially, no relationship at all. SearchLight was a secret and must remain so.

The influence she held would make most magical creatures bow in submission. Jack, being merely human, was suitably impressed. And although as yet not cowed, he was too fond of his life to waste it needlessly. Not that Agent Weinberg had killed anyone. Recently.

Jack took a deep breath in through his nose as the limousine pulled up to the curb. He’d been commanded to take this limo and the implicit service of a driver, and although he hadn’t enjoyed it particularly, he was glad that he hadn’t needed to find a place to park in downtown Washington, DC. So, unsure if he was supposed to tip the driver but wanting to show his appreciation, he stepped around to the driver’s side after the car was parked at the curb and offered the person behind the wheel, whom, his telepathic sense, told him wasn’t human, ten dollars.

“Would you be trying to bribe me to take you home, Agent Sowerby?”

Jack saw the humor in the green eyes turned up to his and smiled. “Never in life,” he told the Irish-sounding sprite or Faery or leprechaun. Damn, sometimes he wished for a werewolf’s sense of smell so he’d know the magical creatures around him at once.

“You’re a good man, Agent Sowerby. Don’t let her bully you now.” And with that, he winked and rolled up his window. Jack stepped around the car to the sidewalk and watched the limo drive away.

“Hey there.” The voice was soft, lightly accented, and full of a syrupy, sarcastic undertone that put Jack’s hackles up. He turned more slowly than he could have, wanting to appear older and so less threatening. He gazed at the three people facing him and saw they were all armed.

He was aware of others watching from the doorway of the restaurant but knew they wouldn’t intercede unless it became obvious he couldn’t handle himself. That was one thing about Agent Weinberg he didn’t like much. She believed in the “sink or swim” philosophy.

The woman who’d spoken was smiling in a particularly condescending way. “Got a handout for me?” She twirled the knife in her right hand as she reached out with her left for the ten spot Jack still held.

Jack offered it, keeping a good distance from her, forcing her to step forward to take the bill. He was aware of the other two moving to flank him. He disliked using his telepathic sense against what he considered to be defenseless people, magical or mundane, and yet he wouldn’t risk his own life to preserve theirs. “I suggest you take this and be on your way,” he said softly, putting a slight psychic push into the words. He blanketed the area with his calming presence, lacking the ability to focus on more than two people at once. Both of the men who’d been flanking him stopped. One of them shook his head but the other was definitely under Jack’s control.

“Back off,” Jack said and watched the woman lower her knife a little.

She snatched at the bill and her knife hand flicked upward.

Jack dropped the ten spot and caught her wrist. The knife’s blade skidded across the waterproof material of his trench coat. He forced her to drop the knife as he said, “Go away.”

The man under his control turned and fled. But the other lunged at Jack. Yanking the woman close, Jack used her as a shield. The other man’s blade slid between her ribs. He swore, stumbling back, and lost his grip on his knife. As he turned to flee, Jack lowered the woman to the ground. He shouted, “Someone call nine-one-one.”

Someone joined him out on the sidewalk. It wasn’t Agent Weinberg. It wasn’t a SearchLight agent he knew. There was regal bearing in the other’s posture as he crouched beside Jack. “Let me heal her.”

Jack didn’t protest, although he did skate his telepathic sense outward to determine if this was a magical creature. The fact that he’d said “heal” rather than “help” argued for him not being human. He came into contact with an impenetrable psychic wall and winced as his telepathic sense bounced off. Well, there weren’t all that many humans who could resist even his most casual reach. Ergo, this was a magical creature.

Jack nodded and said, “Go ahead.” He retreated inside his own head and as he pulled out his cell phone, unwilling to trust to others to call for help, he watched the broad-shouldered male beside him spit into his hand and press the palm against the wound even as he pulled the knife free.

Dragon, Jack thought. Dragons could heal with their saliva or a blood exchange. But this wasn’t a dragon Jack knew.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Shapeshifter Central

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $10.00 Changeling Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

Jun 24

New Release Blitz: Almost Human by Jo M. Airing (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Almost Human

Author: Jo M. Airing

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/24/2025

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 71400

Genre: Paranormal, Romance, urban fantasy, gay, lesbian, werewolf, vampire, magic user

Add to Goodreads

Description

Miles and Sammie haven’t seen each other since high school, and while they’re able to reconnect and pick up right where they left off, their happy reunion is short-lived when Miles is bitten and turned by a werewolf. They find themselves working through budding feelings as the supernatural world sinks its claws further into their fragile lives.

With the help of an Alpha who takes Miles in to help him learn his new powers, they uncover a winding plot to start a war between their two worlds. They find a few friends and even more enemies along the way as they go from one near death experience to the next. They just hope they can survive long enough to figure out their fragile newfound love.

Excerpt

Almost Human
Jo M. Aring © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Miles!”

The shout was drowned out by the sound of splintering wood, rumbling growls, and the feeling of his arm bending the wrong way as he landed on the old wood floor. Awesome. Really. This was just…the absolute best.

He groaned, wincing as he tried to get up, only for his arm to flare with pain from fingers to shoulder as soon as he moved it. “Dammit…” He looked up as footsteps approached, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Crap. He was going to die. There’d been a lot of close calls, but this was it. Was he a little relieved? Maybe, if he was being honest with himself…

“Are you dead?” a familiar voice called, and he relaxed as a woman crouched through the hole he’d left in the cabin wall. She looked pretty battered from the fighting outside, black hair matted with blood by her temple, claw marks on her forearms and sides, one of her boots half bitten off, even. “Ooh, looks like you might be wishing you were—” She knelt beside him and blanched. “God, Miles. Your arm…”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, I didn’t notice something was wrong with it. What’s the verdict, doc? Mild sprai—ah!” He yelped as she reset his arm, with little more warning than grabbing his bicep and forearm and twisting. He let out a strained breath through his teeth and glared up at her. “Your bedside manner sucks.”

She grinned. “Glad to know your sense of humor is still intact.” She looked away, and through his ringing ears Miles could hear the fighting outside getting worse, another voice yelling for help. She looked back down at him. “Listen, it’s getting rough out here. As soon as you heal up, you need to grab Sammie and get out of here.”

Miles shook his head. “What, but…no, I can help.” He grimaced as he got to his feet, cradling his arm against his stomach. “Just gimme five minutes, I’ll be good to go. You seriously can’t expect me to leave you alone out there.”

She shook her head. “I don’t, but you have to.” She gently pushed him back to the floor and settled him with a look, one he’d been on the receiving end of many, many times. “Miles, this is my mess. I don’t want either of you getting killed because of this. Now please, for once, just listen to me.”

He wanted to argue, but… “I… Fine.” He looked up at her as she started back out through the hole. “But don’t you get yourself killed, either. You better come back alive, all right!”

She glanced back over her shoulder at him one last time before Miles couldn’t see her anymore through the wall. He slumped back and looked down at his arm.

Pins and needles filled his fingertips before red-hot pain seared along his arm. Before his eyes, the bruising and lacerations melted away, the numb feeling in his fingertips fading with them. He clenched his fist a couple of times, just to make sure everything worked properly, before he got to his feet.

She had to be okay…right? She’d been at this for longer than he had; she knew how to handle herself in a fight.

Miles’s jaw clenched as he peered out of the cabin window to see at least a good couple of hundred hulking monsters outside, tearing through trees and one another, completely mindless, just thirsty for violence…

They weren’t going to make it, not like this. It was going to end here.

Miles looked down before he huffed out a breath. “At least I’ll have died fighting, right?” He stepped out and jolted as his foot passed through the Earth and kept going, and going and—

“Wake up!”

Miles jumped, then yelped as he rolled out of bed and slammed into the ground with a loud thud, earning a yell from his neighbor downstairs.

Where…what was…?

Oh.

“Wake up!”

“Shut up.” Miles untangled himself from his sheets and patted over his nightstand until he found his phone. He tapped the screen until it went quiet and slumped back to the floor. He really needed to change that.

“—les?”

Miles blinked an eye open and glanced about. He didn’t even know what time it was, or the day. Did he have something planned today? He could look at his phone to check but…sleep.

“Miles, yo, you up?”

“No,” Miles mumbled into the floor. Then the voice finally clicked in his tired brain. Sammie? But Sammie was halfway across the country.

“Miles, I swear, if you are still asleep, I’m gonna just leave. Pretty sure I can hang out with your roommate if you—”

“Ah!” Miles yelled, jumping from the floor and immediately slipping on the sheet and catching himself with a loud bang against the wall. “Dude, one sec! What the hell are you doing here?” He threw open his door and rushed out to see, waiting in his living room and looking just a little bit jet-lagged… “Sammie.”

Sammie laughed, standing from the couch and holding his arms out. “How am I doing here, huh?”

Miles shook his head and ran across the apartment to hug his best friend. It’d been years, it felt like, since he’d seen him. “Shut up, you’re so annoying.” He sighed as Sammie snickered. Sammie squeezed Miles back before pushing him away and straightening his glasses as he looked around Miles’s apartment. “Seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you were in college?”

“Dropped out,” Sammie answered nonchalantly, then let out an interested sound as he started toward the kitchen. “You mind if I make some coffee? The shop at the airport was closed because of some cleanup thing they needed to do so I’m desperate for some caffeine.”

Miles started to answer when Sammie opened the cupboard to find an empty coffee container and the words died in his throat. “Oh. I guess not. Pete must’ve used the last this morning.”

Sammie snarled. “I knew he was a dick. I could sense it.” He threw the container on the counter. “Who the hell puts back an empty one like that? That’s just pure evil, dude. Seriously.”

“And who the hell raised you where you don’t put trash in the trash can?” Miles quipped, grabbing the container and wiping up the spilled leftover grounds into the bin. “In that case, if you can wait long enough for me to get dressed, you wanna head out? I know a place that has some pretty good drinks.”

Sammie smirked. “Are you asking me out?”

Miles rolled his eyes. “You wish. Gimme a sec.”

“Wear something blue. It’ll compliment your eyes.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Jo M Aring is based in Kansas City, working in mental health by day, plunking away on her many works-in-progress by night. She is a moderately loud but supremely proud lesbian, who dabbles in D&D, video games, and whatever sparks her serotonin.

Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

Jun 16

New Release Blitz: To Defend a Damaged Duke by Fearne Hill (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  To Defend a Damaged Duke

Series: Regency Rossingley, Book Two

Author: Fearne Hill

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/17/2025

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 76700

Genre: Historical Romance, historical romance, gay, UK, aristocracy, rich man/poor man, second chance romance, hurt-comfort, humorous, slow burn, reunited, opposites attract, scoundrels, brothel owner, horses, horse racing, scheming ingenues

Add to Goodreads

Description

Benedict Fitzsimmons, the reclusive fourteenth Duke of Ashington, nurses a secret desire for his own sex he’d much prefer nobody ever found out about. Indeed, having only ever given in to his urges as a youth—and with disastrous consequences—he never imagined they would. Preferring the company of his racehorses to people, Benedict spends most of his time working on estate matters, longing for a lost love he can never have.

When an anonymous letter threatening to expose Benedict lands in his lap, he’s shocked to the core. He doesn’t have any enemies; why would anyone want to destroy him? Terrified, and with his family’s impeccable reputation at stake, Benedict joins forces with loyal friend, the Earl of Rossingley, to track down the culprit.

Risen from poverty and with a sordid past he’d rather forget, Tommy Squire has a mind dedicated to growing his business ventures and a heart shaped from stone. When the man who once broke it in a life-changing betrayal requests Tommy’s help to avoid a scandal, he finds himself embroiled in a daring scheme to bring down a blackmailer. As their plot unfolds, Tommy realises it’s more than his former lover he’s endeavouring to protect, it’s his battered heart.

This second book in the Rossingley Regency romance series turns to friends of the fourteenth earl of Rossingley, Lando Duchamps-Avery, who once again has a hand in the shenanigans set in London’s wealthy Ton society. This book can be read as a standalone.

Excerpt

To Defend a Damaged Duke
Fearne Hill © 2025
All Rights Reserved

London, 1813

At the back of the fruit and veg market in Convent Garden, a showman scraped a living. Every Tuesday and Friday, for more years than Tommy Squire had been alive. Same patch, same old rickety stall, same old rickety routine. Same anticlimactic finale. Declaring himself the world’s greatest magician, he’d hold aloft a playing card, purse his wrinkled, whiskery lips, and pretend to blow the spots off it. Tommy had watched him fumble the cards up his sleeve hundreds of times; seen him drop them on occasion too. And yet, on his mother’s grave, even as he wriggled a grubby knave down from his elbow to his wrist, the old sot still swore it was magic.

Tommy was reminded of that showman whenever the lordling’s black eyes, like two jet pearls, fluttered closed. Usually, the memory came seconds after the lordling’s throat made a helpless little whine, speaking its own language, directly into Tommy heart. It heralded the shortest sliver of time before he spilled into Tommy’s mouth and then pressed his lips against Tommy’s, tasting himself on them. Whispering sweet nonsense.

Those were the times Tommy remembered that old showman and his frayed cards, and it was only years later he understood what he meant. The daft sod had spun the story to himself so many times, believing in the magic of it, he ended up fooling himself.

*

“Our young lordling’s here, Tommy. Waiting in the best room.” Ma Duggan’s expression soured, matching the sallow hue of her downturned sneer. “Taken off upstairs already to get hisself ready. He’s asked for you.”

Fancying himself as a bit of an actor—he had to be in this business if he wanted paying right—Tommy pretended not to notice young Dickie flouncing out of the parlour. Nor Sidney’s jealous sulk. After all, who could blame them? The handsome lordling had caught everyone’s eye.

“I’ll be there when I’ve finished me tea. Won’t hurt him to wait a minute or two.”

Tommy could control his face, keep it blank. And his voice flat. But the mad thumping in his chest? Not a chance. No more than he could prevent the spirited rush of joy to his head, nor the twitching of his prick. Not when his beloved raven-haired beauty impatiently paced six feet above his head.

He carried up a jug of ale, not pausing to check himself in the glass hung at the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t need to; Tommy’s pretty looks hadn’t waned since he examined them last. Dress him in a corset and stays, and Sidney declared he could work alongside the girls in the bawdy house on the corner. He scratched at the door, thrice, his pulse hammering.

“Tommy. At last. I was growing quite weak with want.”

Already, the lordling had removed his hat and coat, all the better for Tommy to admire his raven locks curling over his stiff collar. Unfastening his cravat with an urgent flourish, he was as eager as Tommy, more so, if the swelling in his breeches was any measure. They were of an age, the raven and Tommy—Tommy eighteen years young to the raven’s seventeen. Yet both so sure.

“My lord.” In the demure fashion he’d perfected, Tommy bobbed his head. The lordling blushed with delight. He relieved Tommy of the laden tray, and his plump mouth twisted into a smile. His hooded eyes, dark as night, latched onto Tommy’s.

“Afterwards with this, Tommy. My…my need for you can wait no longer.”

The best room wasn’t much to crow about. Nothing but a slender bed with a mean pillow, worn sheets, and a wooden chair upon which his handsome raven had tossed his coat. Around a water pitcher, his paying guest’s silk cravat lay unfurled like a banner. Tommy’s threadbare neckcloth joined it.

“Then you must have at me, my lord.” Behind his ribs, his soft heart trembled. “I am yours.”

In pulled up undershirts and pushed down breeches, they tussled on the bed. A pair of kittens let loose in the sunshine. Tommy kissed his raven on the mouth, the only madge he’d ever kissed, but then none of the other madges tasted so sweet. Or returned his kisses with such unmatched desire.

“Tommy,” the lordling groaned as Tommy’s hand found his heavy cock. Already, his smooth fingers gripped Tommy’s more modest member with a familiarity borne of a summer of snatched rendezvous in this simple, private chamber. “Want you,” he sighed, his promise slipping over Tommy like satin. “Forever.”

That first release, as always, came blessedly fast. A race, a relief, a ritual. And if Tommy let his mind go there, it was an unhappy reminder of his true purpose—to let the raven pay for Tommy’s clever hand, and handsomely too. The prettiest youth in the house must pleasure him as he saw fit. That the lordling only ever asked for the plainest of pleasures, and that he pleasured Tommy in return, that he whispered words of affection and held Tommy in his arms as they dozed awhile afterwards, were transactions they kept to themselves.

“Alas, I have but a few more minutes,” the lordling said, wiping Tommy tenderly. Dropping the cloth to the dusty floor, he scooped him up against his chest. “Mama and Grandmama are conducting the serious business of purchasing hat ribbons at Madame Bellevue’s. I am to join them. Apparently”—and at this, he blessed Tommy with a wicked grin—“I am in dire need of two new cravats.”

Tommy fumbled for the one so hastily discarded earlier and pretended to examine it, rubbing the fine fabric between finger and thumb.

“Goodness, yes. This is so last season,” he drawled in an approximation of the lordling’s own cultured vowels, making the other laugh. A most joyful sound, Tommy wanted to capture it and pin it like a moth.

The lordling caught the length of silk as Tommy tossed it aside. Then, easily, because he was so much bigger than Tommy, he rolled him onto his back. Taking Tommy’s slim wrist above his head, the lordling turned it over and pressed his lips to the thin skin, tracing the fragile tangle of blue veins with his tongue as if a path leading to his wildest dreams.

“You dare mock me, Master Tommy?” His scolding was ruined by an escaping giggle. “Then I shall punish you by tying you to the bed. With last season’s cravat, too; oh, the shame of it.”

Pouting, Tommy fluttered his eyelashes. With his fair curls and eyes the docile blue of a china doll, he was a picture of innocence. “That is no punishment at all, my lord.”

“Don’t be too hasty, Tommy.” The lordling wound a loop of cloth around Tommy’s wrist, playfully pulling it tight. “I haven’t yet outlined my plans for when I have you all tied up and at my mercy.”

Anything. You can do anything.

He kissed Tommy’s mouth. “I shall tease you, relentlessly,” he murmured, his tongue stealing Tommy’s breath. “Starting here.”

With his wrist now secured to the bedstead, Tommy tugged a little, sighing with pleasure as lips ghosted along his jaw. Groaning, the lordling buried his face into Tommy’s neck.

“Why do you always taste so divine, Tommy?”

Tommy rolled his hips, his prick hard for his lover once more. “Perhaps because I was made especially for you.”

The lordling leaned up onto an elbow. Solemnly, he studied Tommy. “I do believe you were.” A flush crept up his neck. They could stare at each other all day and never grow tired of the view.

“You were saying,” Tommy prompted, his need growing. “Something about doting on me until I spend again?”

His raven grinned, showing all his beautiful teeth. “Yes! And I shall make it my life’s work.”

Warm fingertips glided up Tommy’s thigh as the lordling came back to himself. “We shall grow old together, you and I. And I shall pass the years teasing you endlessly. Each morning, I shall touch you like this, everywhere but here.” The tip of his thumb tapped the head of Tommy’s swollen prick. “Until I have you begging for me.” Again, his black eyes lifted to gaze adoringly into Tommy’s. “As, hourly, you have me begging for you.”

Lain over Tommy like a thick blanket, the lordling’s body was supple and smooth. If God chose to take Tommy in that moment, he would thank Him kindly and consider it a life well lived. As they deepened the kiss, the lordling’s hips ground into Tommy’s. One day soon, Tommy decided, he’d suggest more; his empty hole craved it, a topic they had yet to broach. Sometimes, Tommy wondered if his lover even knew that was a thing men like them could do. He would explain it, then take the youth’s innocence as tenderly as if it were his own first time.

Soft lips melded as they lost themselves to love. The lordling rubbed himself against Tommy, his teases forgotten. His eyes shuttered closed, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the alabaster skin of his cheeks glistened with heat. He was close; they both were. Slipperiness built between their bodies, and with his one untethered hand, Tommy clasped the lordling’s tight buttock.

“I lov—” the raven began.

And never finished.

Cut off by a holler from below. Rattling Tommy’s soul like a musket blast.

“Raid,” Sidney screeched. “Everyone out! Raid!”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Fearne Hill lives deep in the southern British countryside with three untamed sons, varying numbers of hens, a few tortoises, and a beautiful cocker spaniel.

When she is not overseeing her small menagerie, she enjoys writing contemporary romantic fiction. And when she is not doing either of those things, she works as an anaesthesiologist.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

Jun 10

New Release Blitz: The Spy by Mell Eight (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  The Spy

Series: Princes of Toval, Book Three

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/10/2025

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 57800

Genre: Historical fantasy, adventure, baking, magic, missing person, MM Romance, politics, royalty, spies

Add to Goodreads

Description

After spending two years away at culinary school, learning the arts of baking and magic, all Karl wants to do after graduation is return home to the kitchen where he grew up. However, when Karl’s adoptive uncle asks him to do a little favor for him along his journey, of course Karl says yes. He needs to find a missing person, one who may have been captured somewhere in Yaroi, a neighboring country to Karl’s home in Toval.

Finding the missing person is hard enough. Add in each of their secretive pasts, and the implications and dangers inherent with being a Prince of Toval, and a simple rescue turns into a deadly adventure. Especially once Karl learns just why Ama was arrested in the first place. Karl’s chances of returning home to use his newly honed baking skills dwindle as escaping the situation with their heads still attached is proving to be almost impossible.

Excerpt

The Spy
Mell Eight © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
Ama knew how he had gotten into this situation. The Yarokai had excellent noses, so sniffing him out, tracking him down, and capturing him had been far easier than in most of the places Ama went to sneak around. Even his magic hadn’t been enough to prevent his capture, warning him too late that he should have taken his chances heading for the border rather than holing up and trying to hide.

What Ama didn’t know was how he was going to get out of this with his head still attached to the rest of his body. The Yarokai were, in general, a suspicious bunch, insular, and parochial. Any strangers in the cities within the country of Yaroi received extra scrutiny. Tracking them all had to be difficult, since the majority of Yaroi’s cities were coastal trade cities along the Eiroi Strait with merchants, sailors, and travelers from other countries coming and going constantly. They were the main entry port to the rest of the continent for land-based travel too, so Yaroi always had caravans of foreigners crossing through.

Ama had planned to blend in. He arrived at Yaroi’s capital city of Yari with a merchant caravan, acting as a guard to deter thieves, and then spent plenty of time each day visibly working to negotiate a contract to leave Yaroi with a different caravan. Only in the quiet hours around noon, when any good Yarokian was meditating and business was never conducted, or in the dark of night, had Ama tried sneaking around.

He had never failed so miserably.

Sensory deprivation was the worst sort of punishment for a Yarokai, so Ama’s cell didn’t have any windows to allow light or air in. The door was thick wood with only a small flap at the bottom to push meals through. While depriving sight, sound, and smell might be particularly terrible for the Yarokai, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for Ama either, especially since he was basically convicted before they could put him on stage for a sham trial.

At least Ama would go to his execution knowing his last mission had been successful. Queen Trina would be relieved to know that much. Aunt Millie would be sad to know he was gone, although given her abilities, she probably already knew he was in trouble. She was too far away to help, though, so Ama wasn’t counting on that. Aunt Millie knew better too. In her four years since taking the throne in Namin, she had become a good and trustworthy ruler, and Namin was beginning to return to prosperity. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that, including engaging with Yaroi on his behalf, particularly after what he had just done. Even if Yaroi didn’t use military assets to attack Namin, they controlled the trade from the Eiroi Strait. If they leveled extra tariffs on Namese goods or simply refused to allow Namese goods to be traded through Yaroi ports, Namin’s economy would backslide. No, Ama was definitely on his own there.

At least Ama had visited home recently, to see all his aunts, uncles, and cousins, and had visited Namin too. Seeing Aunt Millie was always fun. She had been too busy at the time to really talk though. The last time Ama had actually sat down with her alone for more than a hurried lunch, before she went on to her next meeting and Ama returned to work, had been four years ago, right after her coronation. Ama had hoped her words at the time meant he had a happy future in front of him, but now he knew better. She had meant he shouldn’t worry about his future because he would be executed before he had a chance to actually achieve his dreams.

“If you want my advice, I think you should continue adventuring on Prince Braxton’s behalf. Have some fun for a few more years, and maybe someday you’ll find whatever it is you’re actually searching for.”

Even Toval, who had assigned him this delicate mission, wouldn’t be able to save him. They couldn’t admit they had sent him to Yaroi, that they were involved at all, nor that they knew Ama even existed—all for the same reasons Namin wouldn’t dare help Ama. No, Ama had to take complete responsibility for this fiasco. That was the only way to save Toval and Namin, as well as to ensure the last parts of this mission were successful.

Ama shifted on the hard stone bench, the only furniture in his cell, and leaned against the rock wall, attempting to get as comfortable as possible. He tried to focus on happier memories as he waited to die.

The first time he had seen Prince Braxton, looking so strong and powerful on a horse as he rode through Ama’s home village. Ama making the decision to help Prince Braxton any way he could and going about gathering information so he could convince Braxton to hire him. The second time he had seen Braxton, he had snuck into Braxton’s camp and startled him. Once Braxton calmed down, Ama had managed to convince Braxton Ama was only there to share information. That memory made him smile.

Another of his favorite memories was more recent. Namin’s aggressions against Toval had grown too much, so Toval had decided to intervene by sending troops to support a coup. Braxton had asked if Ama might be able to find someone suitable to sit on the Namin throne after they removed the king of the time, which meant finding someone capable of wielding Namin’s royal magic. Ama had traveled only a few hours before finding Aunt Millie, who had chosen to come to him, to support Ama in Ama’s quest to help Braxton in any way the Tovalians needed. Now Aunt Millie was Queen Carmillian of Namin.

Ama couldn’t say how much time passed as he sat in the tiny prison cell, inwardly focused on his memories —a couple days, at least, but he couldn’t be sure. Food came, but not at regular intervals, so Ama couldn’t use that to gauge time. After what felt like a very, very long time, he finally heard the scrape as the lock was turned. The door opened with a slow groan, the light beyond almost blinding Ama. He blinked, trying to clear the spots from his vision, and a grinning guard eventually came into view. A pair of manacles in his hands were held out in Ama’s direction.

“Your punishment has been decided,” the guard stated as Ama stood and walked over to the door, arms outheld for the guard to place the manacles around Ama’s wrists. He didn’t say anything more, instead, shoving Ama forward so he stood in the middle of a circle of guards. They walked for a while, the floor sloping slowly upward, only the torches set into the walls at intervals supplying any light. The group paused when they reached a door, then waited for the guard in front to unlock it and pull the door open. He stepped aside and waved for Ama to go through first.

The guards and the excited crowd surrounding the perimeter of the stone-flagged amphitheater just outside the door let Ama get a good look at his punishment for a few long moments. Eager anticipation emanated from the crowd as they let him take it all in. Ama swallowed hard, but his resolve was firm. He would complete his mission no matter what they did to him.

“Anytime you want to tell us everything, this will stop,” the guard growled in Ama’s ear.

“There’s nothing to tell. I didn’t do anything wrong,” Ama replied. He tried to sound unconcerned, but his throat was dry and stomach clenched. He had hoped for a quick hanging or beheading, not a slow death like this, but either way, he would endure–for the sake of everyone he had to protect.

He had to.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

Jun 06

New Release Blitz: Kitten’s Bunny by Wanda Violet O. (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Kitten’s Bunny

Author: Wanda Violet O.

Cover Art: Marteeka Karland

Genres: BDSM, Contemporary, New Releases, Razor’s Edge Erotica, Romance

Themes: Age Gap (Older Man), LGBTQ+ /Bisexual, Nonbinary, Transgender, Mafia & Organized Crime, Multiple Partners /Polyamory, Voyeurism and Exhibitionism

Series: Billionaire Daddy Doms — Bunny (#3)

Multiverse: Billionaire Daddy Doms (#1)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 34

Synopsis

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Daddy Dom BDSM Erotica short story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

I’ve never been happier in my life than I am since I’ve come to live with Max. Then I meet Kitten and my world changes again. She’s kind and sweet and, oh, so sensual.

I’m about to find out what it’s like to be Kitten’s Bunny.

Excerpt

Kitten’s Bunny (Billionaire Daddy Doms — Bunny 3)
Wanda Violet O.
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Wanda Violet O.

“There you are, Bunny!”

I had been enjoying the warm spring air wafting through the open window and seating a bunny tail butt plug into my ass when the door to the bedroom I shared with Max burst open. I was bent over at the waist adjusting the end of the tail while looking back in a three-way mirror set up specifically for this purpose. The plug had a curved silicone extension that fit between my cheeks so that the puffy tail sat at the base of my spine.

I grinned over my shoulder at the small woman. She had on a headband with cat ears and a long, furry cat tail that swished with the sway of her hips as she moved. Normally. Right now, the tail was trailing along behind her as she bounded toward me in her excitement. Like me, the ears and tail were all she was wearing. I barely got turned around before she threw herself at me. Kitten was very affectionate, once she got to know you.

I wasn’t too proud to admit the feel of Kitten’s lithe body pressed against mine was a bit of a turn on. Though I appreciated a beautiful body, whether man or woman, I’d never been particularly attracted to a woman before. But Kitten was special, and I was certainly susceptible to her charms. Probably because, since I’d been with Max, he’d kept me in a heightened state of arousal almost continually. And I enjoyed every fucking second of our play.

I returned her hug with a tight, happy hug of my own. “I’m almost ready. Do you know what’s going on?”

Kitten nipped my ear playfully. “Yep. Come on.”

I laughed at her lightheartedness. Kitten loved to play. Right now, she had what looked like a case of the zoomies. She’d most certainly been aptly named. We’d been fast friends almost from the moment we met. Had that been five months ago? Daddy Jacob had insisted on waiting to introduce me to Kitten until he was sure I wasn’t going to hurt her by leaving abruptly. He’d been right. Kitten loved with her whole heart, and I was honored to have found a place in her life. “Wait! I need my ears!”

Kitten huffed out a mock exasperated breath, but I saw her lips twitch. “So high maintenance. It’s a good thing you have me.” We giggled as she helped me with my bunny ears and gave my hair one last fluff. “Max will be so proud of you.” Practically bouncing on her toes, she gave me a huge smile as she moved around the room looking for… something. Another accessory for my hair? Different bunny ears? I was partial to the pink ones. In the end she didn’t change anything, only fussed over me. With every excited squeal, Kitten’s breasts jiggled enticingly. I knew she had a child, and maybe there were a few stretch marks on her tummy, but her body was tight and toned, her breasts small but firm and perfectly formed.

“Are we ready? I think we’re ready!” The smile on Kitten’s face was so beautiful she nearly took my breath. She was flushed with excitement, which fueled my own anticipation. Whatever was about to happen was something she was looking forward to in the extreme.

It wasn’t unusual for us to help each other get ready when one of our men decided to share us. Kitten often helped me pick out different tails and ears when my turn came to be the entertainment after one of Daddy Jacob’s meetings. We always had great fun.

We hurried down the long hall together, both of us giggling. I was hand in hand with Kitten as she took us to the grand staircase. Naked. Fun times! We skipped playfully down the stairs, laughing the whole way. I was becoming more and more aroused the longer I was in Kitten’s company. The woman simply oozed sex appeal, and I was not immune. I didn’t know the protocol for this kind of situation, so I’d feel much better once I was with Max again. Or at least had him give me the OK to do whatever.

Enzo stood at the bottom of the stairs, greeting us with a warm smile. He was not only in charge of security for all of us, but also Daddy Jacob’s oldest and most trusted friend. Kitten launched herself at Enzo with a squeal, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist in delight.

Enzo’s warm chuckle filled the massive formal entry hall. “Ah, little Kitten. You’re full of energy this evening, aren’t you?”

“I am, Enzo. Are you joining us later?” Kitten smiled up at him. Enzo’s affection for Kitten was obvious. Same as Kitten’s affection for Enzo was plain to see.

The big man gave her one hard squeeze before gently setting her on her feet. “Afraid not. I’m sure I’ll see you both soon though.” He gave me a wink as he bent to kiss Kitten on the lips. She giggled and wrapped her arms back around him so he could deepen the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth until Kitten was purring like, well, a Kitten.

“Enzo.” Daddy Jacob stepped out of his study and leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head. If I’d thought Daddy Jacob would be angry or jealous another man was kissing his wife, I’d have been wrong. Daddy Jacob grinned and shook his head as if Kitten’s antics amused him. “Would you be so kind as to allow me the use of my wife this evening?”

Enzo smiled down at Kitten with affection and not a small amount of lust. “Only if you let me have the privilege of her company later in the week when I’m not on duty.”

“You’re always on duty,” Daddy Jacob shot back, but his lips spread wider and his eyes were merry. “But I think we can work something out.”

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Welcome to Wanda Violet O.’s world of bedtime fantasy, where you’ll find a variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play… she’s got it all. Come take a look for yourself!

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $10.00 Changeling Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

Jun 03

New Release Blitz: A Flash of Golden Fire by AE Lister (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: A Flash of Golden Fire

Series: The Arrow and the Flame, Book One

Author: AE Lister

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/03/2025

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 337 PAGES

Genre: Historical Fantasy, action/adventure, age gap, BDSM, pirates, sailors, hurt/comfort, magic/magic-user, menage, foul-mouthed bird

Add to Goodreads

Description

Twenty-two-year-old Simon White begs for a place on Captain Dinesh Martin’s pirate ship, the Arrow. When he proves hilariously inadequate at most tasks, he finds himself in the captain’s quarters as cabin boy, housekeeper, and bed warmer.

Captain Martin used to be a British naval officer, until he became disenchanted with the hypocrisy, racism, and classism of the institution and embarked on a life of piracy. He runs an organized and efficient vessel and prides himself on the men with whom he surrounds himself. He is esteemed and admired, and he gives them as good a life as they’ve ever known.

But Simon has more than a few surprises up his sleeve, including some frightening powers, and Dinesh learns that sometimes a pretty appearance and amenable disposition can fool even an experienced man of the seas.

Excerpt

A Flash of Golden Fire
AE Lister © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Salvation

Port Royal, 1781

The sea smelt of salt and death.

The bustling port city on the southern shores of Jamaica ran with booty and blood. The Brethren of the Coast or, more familiarly, men of dubious employ, otherwise known as pirates, came to the city to trade the goods they had amassed at sea in questionable circumstances. Of course, there was honour among thieves and all of that, but there were also short tempers and ravenous appetites for more than food and good ale.

Food and ale…

I licked my cracked lips and huddled deeper into the threadbare jacket I’d pulled off a washing line an hour earlier. It was the only clean thing on me, in fact. My other garments were stained and filthy, like my frigid skin.

So far, this coastal town hadn’t fulfilled its imaginary promise of a fresh and welcome start. I’d left the town of my birth to embark on a new life, thinking that my luck might be better in Port Royal.

Born in Spanish Town to missionary parents, I had been orphaned at twelve, following a calamity that had left them dead, and I was lucky enough to have been taken in by a friend of my mother’s, who saw to it to educate and care for me as best he could. My life was decent, though dull, until the age of twenty-one when he died of yellow fever, and I was forced to look to my own means for survival. I should have found my own way before that advanced age, but Carago had enjoyed looking out for me, since his wife had died in birthing his only son, who had lived for three days before following her.

Perhaps my childlike attitude and spoilt sense of entitlement were due to Carago’s fatherly indulgences, although innocence had flown from me long before his passing.

So far, in Port Royal, I’d been attacked at knifepoint by a fearsome fellow the night after I’d arrived and also robbed of all my belongings but for a meagre allotment of coin that I’d hidden in my boot. He’d left me with a sore shoulder, a black eye, and a newfound respect for, and fear of, strange men.

In Spanish Town, my encounters with strange men had been more cordial, although nothing I would ever have described to Carago, who, to my bad luck, had held a similar attitude to those of my father and wider society. An unruly mop of red hair and a face full of freckles had ensured me a boyish countenance that I’d likely retain into middle age—God willing I got there to enjoy the benefit. Men liked the look of me, to be frank, and I hadn’t lacked for companionship, although only in brief, physical bursts that had still proved rewarding.

I’d heard of the Brethren of the Coast—supposedly a breed of men who’d taken to a life of piracy with a different kind of philosophy, holding themselves to a higher standard than the average swashbuckling vagabond. If these visionaries did, in fact, exist, and if I could find one of them and beg for a place aboard his ship, perhaps I could prove my worth and gain passage off this pisspot of an island. A life at sea was a much better prospect than one on land at this point, and I was ready for an adventure.

I ducked into a tavern called The Penny Whistle to get out of the rain that now came in torrents, but not before I became soaked to the skin and chilled further. Quite a sorry thing to be so adrift at twenty-two, bedraggled and wet and without prospects.

The tavern was warm, at least, and nobody turned me out. A fire roared and crackled in a large hearth, in front of which a motley group of strangely attired men were seated at tables, their attention captured by an imposing figure who stood with his elbow on the mantle as he regaled them with animated voice and gestures.

I slunk to a stool by the bar and sat, my stomach cramping as the scent of cooking food filled my nostrils. I soon found myself as transfixed as the others.

The man was everything a pirate captain ought to be.

He was of indefinable race—likely a mixture of at least two. He was exceptionally handsome in a way far beyond his physical appearance, which was unique and appealing. And he was an excellent orator, regaling his audience with honeyed words and dramatic cadence.

He wore the jacket of a British officer, although the item had seen years of wear, and the badges had been removed, or torn from the cloth. The garment looked fine on him and gave him a ruffled distinction. His shirt and breeches were navy issue as well. He looked more put together than his crew, who sported the mismatched garb of unaligned men of the sea. He had the accent of a British officer and the elocution of a magistrate.

The serving wench made her presence known, approaching the captain, laughing in the way women do when they want a man to think of them fondly. But as far as I could tell, her charms weren’t working upon him.

The crew was another matter.

“Oy, my darling, come here and perch on me knee awhile,” a heavyset fellow suggested, leering at the young woman and waggling his eyebrows.

“Now, now, Mister Denbrooke. What would your wife think?” the captain said with an indulgent smile.

“My wife, Captain Martin,” Mr Denbrooke said, “is probably spreading her ample thighs for the butcher and the baker at the moment. So she wouldn’t care a damn.”

Captain Martin. I’d been right in my supposition.

“Oh, go on,” the girl said and flounced to the bar where she frowned and pretended to be unaffected by the captain’s disinterest.

Everyone laughed and the captain grinned wider.

“Never was able to keep her satisfied,” Mr Denbrooke continued. “I’ve only got one cock, and she likes to have three at once.”

The men laughed and Captain Martin nodded.

“Hmm. Well, I can’t fault your wife for that,” he said.

The men laughed harder and some even hooted, and my foggy brain couldn’t keep up.

I concentrated on dealing with the hunger pangs that assailed me and rehearsed ways I could approach this formidable man who took up space with such entitled ease.

“Hello, my name is Simon White. I’d like a position on your ship.” Or, perhaps I should say, “Simon White here. You gotta place for me on board?” or “I’m strong and quick—when I’m fed, at least—Are you taking on crew?”

None of these were likely to get me what I needed, so I sat there, suffering, whilst they shoveled beef stew into their gobs and tore up whole loaves of bread to devour amongst themselves. My mouth became dry as I watched. What I wouldn’t do for an ale or even a paltry glass of water.

There were things I’d thought about doing. Things that men paid dearly for in the back alleys and the whorehouses. But I couldn’t bear the thought of trading an activity I enjoyed so much for food and drink or coin. I hadn’t gotten to a point so desperate to fall into that. If I could only get onto Captain Martin’s ship, I wouldn’t have to contemplate a life of whoredom.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

AE Lister is a Canadian non-binary author with a vivid imagination and a head full of unique and interesting characters. They write explicit, adult LGBTQ+ romance. They also write much less graphic Young Adult LGBTQ+ romance under Alison Lister.

Website | Facebook | Twitter |
Goodreads | Instagram | Bookbub | Substack

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

May 27

New Release Blitz: Sin Eaters by Kathryne Lentes (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title:  Sin Eaters

Series: Apocrypha, Book One

Author: Kathryne Lentes

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/27/2025

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 52700

Genre: Urban Fantasy, sci-fi/fantasy, action, urban fantasy, bisexual, lesbian, mercenary, hacker, Fae, undead, vampire, Ireland, Chicago

Add to Goodreads

Description

Apocrypha is a Sin Eater, a mercenary who does all the jobs the corporations do not want anybody to know about that need to get done. She is an experienced operative who thought she had seen it all, but this time, she is up against cyborgs, elves, and the undead, all the while trying to break in a new partner. The stakes have never been higher, because if she doesn’t complete the mission, her father will pay the ultimate price.

Excerpt

Sin Eaters
Kathryne Lentes © 2025
All Rights Reserved

The young woman looked at the growing crowd of children; they had come back every day and brought more friends each time. Some liked her stories, some just wanted to be part of the group, and a select few listened and were getting close to understanding. Not too close, she hoped; she knew what came from complete understanding and wanted to let them enjoy their youth more than she had.

“Any questions before we start today?”

“What’s your name?”

“How did you get in here?”

“Why is your hair so many colors?”

“Will you go out with me?” That one was new; she must have started attracting an older audience without noticing it.

She thought about the questions. She had not given a name at these events yet and hesitated. She had gone by many names, some inappropriate in this setting. Crossroads thought about using the name she had been given by her parents, but she couldn’t; that was all she had left from them, and she could not share it. She thought about where her life had begun and said, “Crossroads.”

“Crossroads—that’s a stupid name.”

She glared at the child in the front row, and he closed his mouth. She continued, “My stage name is Crossroads; you know, like a band has a name they perform under. How I got here… Well, there are not many places I can’t go if I put my mind to it. As to the hair, well, that is a long story, and I am not dating anyone now, no matter how cute they are.” She finished with a wink toward the teenager in the back row. That should give him some points with his classmates for a day or two. “I have come here to tell you a story. The story is of this world and how it got to be the way it is.”

“We know that story. Our teachers taught us that.” Another look at the kid in the front row; she was starting to think he was going to be trouble.

“And what did they tell you?”

“The aliens came and destroyed the world, and only the people who were safe in the biospheres survived. That’s us; everybody else is dead or has turned into a monster.”

“That is an interesting story, and I am sure they would not lie to you, but let me tell you a different story. If you don’t believe me, then just remember it as a fantasy to think about when you are daydreaming.”

She put down the guitar she had been idly tuning while she spoke and stood up. She was tall for a woman at five-ten, and many years of performing had taught her to have a commanding presence, and the children quieted down as they approached the center of the makeshift stage. She pulled back her long rainbow-tinted hair and twirled it into a bun with a pencil, a trick she had learned from her mother, who had been a librarian of sorts.

“The world has not always been as it is. That statement is true of almost any age, as Dickens said.” This time, she froze the child in the front row before he could ask who Dickens was. “But times do not usually change as quickly as they did in the last ten years. Your parents created this place before the time of change. They thought the world was going to hell and wanted to divorce themselves from the outside. Then came the visitors, the aliens as you call them, and as they say, all bets were off. The war was terrible and cost more lives than most people can count. It also made a shift in the very laws that people thought regulated the world. The visitors had highly advanced technology and weapons that seemed to be more powerful than imagined. They rained destruction on the world, took thousands of people hostage, and performed experiments on them to see the range of our genetic code. They were amazed at what potential we had within us; just as it is almost impossible to see that a wolf and a poodle are cousins, so you could not look at many of these people and recognize them as human. This was the first mistake they made because many of these Cybreds, as they were to be called, broke free and fought the invaders with their newfound abilities.

“Your parents were not the only ones who fled the cities. There was a mass exodus to places of worship and sanctuary; the Vatican, Stonehenge, Cahokia Mounds, and the Masjid al-Haram all were soon surrounded by teeming masses seeking solace in the old ways to save them. The visitors thought these were military enclaves and sent fire from the sky to consume them. Then a strange thing happened; there were some deaths but not as many as there should have been. The holy places seemed to take in the energy, and the ley lines erupted.” She made no face at the kid in front; she wanted him to ask the question.

“There’s no such thing as a ley line. You made that up?”

“Have your teachers taught you about latitude and longitude, lines drawn around the world that sailors of old used to navigate the globe? Ley lines are the lines of power surrounding the earth, but they hold the life force of that planet; they hold its magic. The power of the weapons filled the lines, and they erupted, spilling out the magic they held and creating the Manna Sphere. A source of energy that the strong-willed and skilled could manipulate…”

A host of children started to open their mouths at this but stopped as a glowing nimbus of energy appeared over her outstretched palm. It widened and opened to seemingly become a hole in the air, a hole that appeared to lead to somewhere…elsewhere.

“The power does not just exist in an active state. It also affects things passively. Changelings have started to appear, babies born to normal parents whose appearance and abilities match those of races thought extinct or just a product of myth and legend. It also had an effect on diseases, creating new ones that rob a person of all semblances of life save the hunger for flesh. These diseases have consumed the country of Australia and there the world is just as your teachers describe it. But there are other places such as England, which has become a new home for all changelings and where magic has transformed it.”

The children listened intently, and their eyes were fixated on the sphere, which showed scenes corresponding to the vistas she told them of.

“Not all people are so accepting of the new things. Europe has banned either changelings or Cybreds from having any form of citizenship. America is a divided place; some people live in biospheres like you do, cutting themselves off from any outside contact, while others embrace the new frontiers we have been shown. Some parts of America have even greatly benefited from the Manna Sphere, such as the Alliance of Tribes, who have taken back parts of the lands they once lived on. The other people who have gained are the criminal element who were swift to bring those with dark gifts into their organization. Now they truly deserve the name the underworld.”

Some of the children had begun to back up as the visions in the sphere turned dark.

“The world is not all safe and quiet. I would be a fool to tell you it is, but I am letting you know that you have a choice between what you have and what you could have.”

The portal winked out of existence and the children snapped out of their reverie. A moment later, a terrible shouting came from the back of the crowd. Five men in long gray dusters that marked them as Pilgrims, the law enforcement arm of the biosphere corporation, yelled at the children to disperse as they moved toward Crossroads.

“Took you long enough, guys. Minneapolis found me in three days, and it took you guys a whole week.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Kathryne Lentes has been writing stories as long as she could hold a pen in her hand. She is a transwoman who, when not working on her own projects, operates Paper Phoenix Ink, a blog showcasing queer creators. She is currently living in Saint Louis with her wife, two cats, and a pile of science fiction and fantasy books.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

May 23

New Release Blitz: Terror by J. Hali Steele (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Title: Heartwood

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: 05/23/2025

Cover Art: Angela Knight

Genres: Action Adventure, Box Sets, Contemporary, Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, New Releases, Romance

Themes: LGBTQ+ /Bisexual, Nonbinary, Transgender, LGBTQ+ Gay, New Adult

Series: Heartwood (#4)

Multiverse: Sticks & Stones (#1)

Book Length: Duet/Box Set

Page Count: 567

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

Can love be shield, sword, and healing balm for this troubled couple?

White Oak (Heartwood 1): Mike Delaney, a sheltered nineteen year old, is hired to assist Aidan Kelly, a blind high school senior with a rainbow for every occasion. But the man who tormented Mike will stop at nothing, including murder, to ensure his silence.

Black Mahogany (Heartwood 2): When Rick Hanlon, the man who molested Mike as a teenager, escapes justice, Aidan will stop at nothing to keep his lover safe, but Mike can’t let go of his self-recriminations or share his nightmares with Aidan.

Yew (Heartwood 3): Mike and Aidan have raised a daughter together. Now they’re looking to foster a second child. But fear and prejudice are even more dangerous enemies than Hanlon, the man who molested Mike when he was a teenager.

Thorn (Heartwood 4): Hanlon is not the only threat to Mike and Aidan’s happiness. From within their marriage, old arguments and insecurities rear their ugly heads. Can Mike and Aidan’s marriage survive?

Excerpt

Heartwood
Emily Carrington
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Emily Carrington
Excerpt fromWhite Oak/Black Mahogany

Mike gulped at his third cup of coffee. He fidgeted with the folder that held his résumé. “They’re paying nineteen thousand for the entire school year.”

His mother, over at the sink, asked, “Are you going to tell us what this interview’s for finally, Mr. I Don’t Want To Jinx It?”

“An aide position at Marisburg High.” He grabbed his cup again as another yawn threatened. God, but he needed to get more sleep.

His mother stalked to the table and grabbed both his cup and the nearly empty carafe from its place in the middle of the table. “Your hands are already shaking. You don’t need any more of this.”

Mike scratched at the narrow space between his neck and the collar of his dress shirt. He adjusted his tie. “I’m fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you go in there looking like a tweaker, no one will take you seriously.”

“A what?” Mike laughed. “Where’d you hear that word? They’re not called tweakers anymore. That must be a word you used back in the sixties.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Were you a tweaker, Mom?”

“Getting back to this teaching position…”

“What?” his father grunted from the depths of the mudroom. “You’re not qualified for that, are you, Mike? You’ve only been at the community college for the summer, and you’re taking different language classes, not how-to-teach classes.”

“Foreign language classes, John,” Mike’s mother murmured.

The older Delaney laughed. “Listen to the woman, would you? She takes one college course herself, and now she’s the professor.” He clomped two steps into the kitchen, took off his hat, and bowed to his wife. “Thank you, Molly. I appreciate the correction.” Then he turned his attention back to Mike. “Well?”

“I’d be assisting a blind student with his class work.” His jittery fingers danced on the table, and he worked to pass it off as impatient tapping on the cover of a second copy of his résumé. “My interview’s in half an hour.”

“So get going,” his father said. “You planned to take night classes this semester anyway. Make the most of this opportunity.”

Mike got up, clutching the folder. Maybe I can take a nap when I get home. He rushed out the door. Assuming I can sleep.

* * *

Ninety minutes later Mr. Callahan, superintendent of schools, Mr. Connolly, the principal, and Ms. O’Carolyn, the guidance counselor, took turns shaking his hand. Their grips were a bit awkward, Mike being left-handed, but he’d given up trying to shake the normal way. Even if that would have further dispelled the stereotypes.

“Congratulations,” Mr. Callahan said. “We don’t usually make a decision this fast, but with teacher in-services starting next week, it’s important. You’ll be expected to participate in those, of course. I’ll e-mail you a schedule.”

Mike swallowed. “Yes, sir. I’ll be there.” He almost asked when he would meet Aidan Kelly, the blind student, but that would probably be on the schedule. For now he needed to worry about teacher in-services. Whatever those were.

“If you have questions, don’t hesitate to contact any of us. We’re at your disposal. But be patient. This is a busy time of year.” The superintendent ushered Mike toward the office door. “Good luck. I hear Mr. Kelly is intelligence personified, but a little… quirky.” He chuckled. “Have a great day, Mike, and again, congratulations.”

The carpet scraped the bottoms of Mike’s shoes as he made good his escape. Other administrative offices surrounded the superintendent’s enclosed haven like deficient, two-walled boxes. Mike headed back the way he’d come, unable to take a straight path because of the random assignment of desks and file cabinets.

His heart jackhammered in his throat. He slowed his feet and flexed his hands to keep his fingers relaxed. I got the job? Really? He felt a five year old’s irrepressible grin starting and forced himself to hold his bland, polite expression.

I’ll be reporting to Marisburg High every day. Just like when I was in high school.

That thought squashed any and all urges to grin, and he rushed past the final desk, anxious to be alone in his car.

He saw the wavering shadow of a person on the other side of the outer door. He had barely enough time to get out of the way as the door flew open.

“They promised to wait.” The man, resplendent in a black suit and dark, subdued tie, shoved his way past Mike as if he didn’t see him. Despite the overcast skies, he wore dark sunglasses. “They promised to get our input,” he went on muttering, his words barely audible. He swung a long stick out in front of him like a pendulum, tapping the floor rhythmically. “Now I hear they’re holding interviews for my aide without consulting me?”

Mike escaped out the door before it closed. And before too many people could catch him staring. Not that any of the office staff seemed to be watching him. Through the door’s window, Mike watched a woman intercepting the blind man, taking his arm.

The red-haired man tore his wrist out of her grasp.

That’s a white cane, Mike thought as his logic caught up with his shock. And that must be Aidan Kelly. He’s a high school senior, which means he’s probably sixteen or seventeen, but he looks like an Irish god.

Quirky wasn’t exactly the word for him. Arrogant, maybe, or rude.

A woman brushed by Mike, opening the office door and rushing in, but he scarcely noticed.

Or hot. His gaze lingered on the man’s mildly curly locks. And if he’s got an ounce of fat along with all that muscle, I’m a — He froze. A what? What was he exactly, staring at another man?

I’m straight. End of discussion.

“At least I got the job,” he told the empty foyer.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Shapeshifter Central

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $10.00 Changeling Press Gift Code!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Button 2

Load more