Tag Archives: dark fantasy

Katherine Teaser

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Katherine teaser

Maw of Mayhem MC 4

A Maw of Mayhem Shifter MC Romance

 

Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense

Date Published: August 30, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

Voted in as prez and back at the clubhouse, Grimdarke James has won back
the Maw of Mayhem MC, but his problems are far from over, and his migraine
isn’t helping. Neither is the arrival of a rival MC, a wolf pack, or
the crime lord en route.

And Reaper’s still on the loose.

Grim definitely can’t seem to catch a break, and neither can Kit. Now
that she’s been officially introduced to the club as Grim’s
ol’ lady, it’s up to her to get a handle on the mollys. Will she
be able to keep them in line and prove she’s the rightful queen of
Mayhem, or will someone else try to usurp her throne?

 

Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2024 AK Nevermore

 

Grim’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

He slapped it silent and groaned, pulling a pillow over his throbbing head.
Jesus fuck, how was it light out already? Whatever, he didn’t give a
shit. Whoever was calling him could fuck off. At his side, Kit murmured,
nestling closer. Her bent leg skated up the back of his thigh and hooked
over his hip.

Mmm. He rolled to face her, and she snuggled against his chest with a sigh
of contentment. Damn, she smelled good. He inhaled, drawing her scent into
his lungs. Something about it eased his head. Woman just made him feel
better all around. His fingers idled through her hair, down her back to cup
her juicy ass, morning wood going rigid as it brushed against her slick
core.

“You dreamin’ about me, baby?” he murmured, still groggy,
running the length of his cock along her slit and notching himself at her
entrance.

“Maybe.” Her hands skimmed up his chest to lace around his
neck. She tipped her hips, and Grim nudged into her, groaning as he sank
home. Fuck, she was tight. Kit gave a soft cry, her nails rasping over his
shoulders. “Maybe not.”

His eyes flew open; a spike of jealousy shooting through him. He pinned her
beneath him, growling, a hand rising to stroke her throat. “That
right? You wanna clue me in to who the fuck you’re thinkin’
about while I’m dick deep inside your pussy?”

She shrugged, not intimidated in the least and so sinfully fucking
sexy…

— brat — Darke muttered.

She is. Grim bared his teeth in anticipation. “You want that ass
spanked, Kitten?” He twined his fingers with hers, raising her arms up
over her head, slowly pistoning his hips between her spread thighs.
“‘Cause sass like that? You’re just asking to be
punished.”

“Am I?” Her lips parted at the snap of his hips, lust darkening
her gaze. The scent of her heat thickened the air. Christ, the mating
pheromones she was putting off were so ripe he could taste citrus and
cinnamon.

“You are.” He growled again, some deep, primal need waking. The
urge to sate it, to fill her with his seed and make her his, thrummed
through his being. He teased her lips, nipping at them. “You gonna be
this sassy when my baby’s in your belly?”

She bit back a smile. “Probably?”

Grim chuckled. Goddamn, he fucking loved —

A series of texts pinged on his phone. He shot a glare in its direction.
Deuce? The fuck did he want? Kit’s mouth traced Grim’s jugular,
nipping and diverting his attention. Mmm. His lips claimed hers, her scent
Manna on his tongue, sheathing himself in the hot velvet of her cunt over
and over again.

She panted, arching up, and he latched onto her breast, sucking its pebbled
tip into his mouth. Christ, she was fucking perfect. He drove his cock into
her wet heat, bottoming out and dragging back against that spot deep inside
her. “Oh God, Grim! Please, I can’t…” She gasped,
cried out. Her eyelids fluttered, core convulsing, demanding…

He thrust into her again, tingle zinging the length of his spine, balls
drawing up, cock impossibly hard, spurting, emptying himself to fill her. He
buried his face in the crook of her neck, groaning, pressing deep.
“Goddamn, that’s it. Fucking take it –”

BAM BAM BAM

He lifted his head. The hell?

BAM BAM. “Grim!”

Deuce was at the door. Shit, didn’t he just try to call?

“Sec!” Grim yelled over his shoulder, then turned back to look
down at Kit. She watched him with hooded eyes, her lips bee-stung and a
sheen of sweat glossing her skin. Goddamn, she was fucking beautiful. He
trailed his knuckles down her throat, just wanting to —

BAM BAM BAM. “Dude! Seriously, we got problems.”

When didn’t they? Grim sighed, all that banging racketing through his
temples. He gave Kit a quick kiss. “Don’t fucking move.
I’m not done with you.”

About the Author

AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives
up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a
certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when
she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up
camo Chucks. Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to
become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time. AK pays
the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She
belongs to the Authors Guild, is an RWA chapter board member, volunteers for
far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion,
sleeps.

Contact Links

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

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Author on TikTok

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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

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Runaway Home Blitz

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Runaway Home cover

Dark Fantasy, Interracial Romance

Date Published: June 21, 2025

 

 

Fleeing the shame of being rejected in favor of an Omega, Jackson
Southerly, alpha wolf, has run away to one of his family’s ski
resorts.

Fleeing the shame of being left at the altar, Sioux Brown has traded in her
tickets to the Bahamas and run away to the snowy slopes of Colorado, where
she plans to lick her wounds in solitude.

The snow in their hearts melts as they share the deserted lobby in the dark
of night, but will their growing attraction survive the light of day?

 

Runaway Home tablet

 

 

EXCERPT

“Mmmm…” Sioux Brown awoke cocooned in a nest of warm
blankets. She arched her back, bare skin sliding smoothly on silken sheets,
stretching pleasantly flaccid muscles in a languid morning ritual.

“Good morning, doll.”

“Aarrghhhhhh!” The slow, gravel and silk voice acted like a
bucket of ice water on her drowsing mind. With a scream shrill enough to
shatter glass, she ripped her way out of sheets, blankets and quilts. Heart
pounding, pulse skittering out of sync, she leaped free of the bed and
promptly tripped on a trailing corner of the top comforter. She landed on
her butt, still yelling.

“Holy ambulance sirens, Sioux. You’re going to bring security down on
us! Please! Stop while I still have eardrums.” A sleepy white man sat
up in the disarray of blankets, hands clapped over his ears.

Sioux gulped, stopping only long enough to gather more breath. She screamed
again, but couldn’t decide if it was from fear or excitement. Because
really, if the man was going to hurt her, it seemed he’d had all night to do
it. Even frightened half out of her chocolate skin, Sioux couldn’t help
noticing juicy details.

There was a hunky, hairy, naked white man in her bed. His dense swirls of
chest hair almost hid flat brown nipples and he sported a six-pack she could
quench her thirst with all day long. His thick mop of tangled black hair
fell over a broad brow that narrowed into a striking craggy face. Not
handsome per se, yet not butt-ugly, either… interesting. Nice mouth
too.

He sat up, knees apart, the edge of the sheet covering his assets from the
hips down. It was thin enough she could see the shadow of his muscular legs,
as well as the outline — the huge outline of what promised to be a monster
cock jutting between his thighs.

Sioux stopped screaming long enough to demand, “Who are you and what
are you doing in my bed?”

The man sighed. “See, I was afraid of this. Something told me you
didn’t drink often, and couldn’t be held responsible for your
decisions.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know nothing about my drinking
habits.”

“I know you got plastered on two baby drinks.” He smiled at her,
displaying a cute dimple in his left cheek. “‘Course, I might be wrong.
Maybe it wasn’t the drink that had you acting the way you did last night.
Maybe it was me. One can live in hope…”

 

 

About the Author

A funny thing happened on the way to the grave… In 2006, Cammy was
diagnosed with Pulmonary Sarcoidosis and given two weeks to live. She
promptly discharged herself AMA — Against Medical Advice — since, as she
stubbornly informed her doctors, she could die at home far more comfortably
than at the hospital. But then… she got an idea for a new story. Then
another, and another…

Fifteen years and dozens of fantastic tales later, Cammy passed quietly in
her sleep, at home, as was her wish. We miss her. Her work lives on, and we
hold her in our hearts. Cammy decided many years ago that upon her passing,
she wished to donate her royalties to The Quiet Kitty fund, which helps
authors with emergency medical expenses. We do, to keep her in our hearts
and minds.

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

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The Brotherhood Preorder Blitz

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The Brotherhood cover

Dark Fantasy, Gay, Vampires & Shapeshifters

Date Published: May 3, 2024

 

 

Welcome to Amour Magique, where gay paranormals come to find
love…

Amour Magique – the notorious sex club owned by Liam, an incubus. His
friends call themselves The Brotherhood. The Brothers have the perennial
problem of gay men everywhere: finding a hottie who doesn’t turn out
to be a loser or abuser. They’re down on their luck, and looking for
love in all the wrong places.

Bite Me — Tattoos. Piercings. Leather. Attitude. Do anything, say
anything, and damn the consequences. That’s Bree of the Brotherhood,
and he’s not about to apologize for a thing.

The Dragon’s Tongue — Collin was born with the power to make men
burn with lust. He’s been burned himself, though, and now
he’s  working himself into an early grave. Might just be worth
the trip if he can get it right this time.

Good Luck Piece — Conned into putting in an appearance at the notorious
sex club, Amour Magique, Simon holes up in a shoddy bar aptly called Last
Chance. Then an Irish stranger with flashing green eyes and a mouth made for
wickedness buys him a drink…

 

The Brotherhood tablet

 

 

EXCERPT

Silence. Intense silence. Chilly air smelling of pine and citrus rushed
through painfully neat rooms and corridors, whisking over nothing but bare
furniture and knickknacks free of dust. Surfaces sparkled, yet had an
opacity that lacked any élan vital. Solemn strains of a Beethoven
requiem filled the air.

This was a place where happiness went to die.

In one room, though, a spark of life remained. A scented candle, fragrant
with bayberry and red as blood, crackled to life in the semi-darkness. It
passed from hand to hand, lighting taper after taper in a circle, until
twelve flares of light burned brightly in the gloom. Each candle, held
tightly or cautiously in a strong male hand, was lifted high in a circle as
the men holding them glanced at one another, took a simultaneous deep
breath, and chanted:

“Long live the Brotherhood. May our harmony and companionship be a
beacon in the darkness of an unfriendly world. Let the Brotherhood bring
light to the murky corners and sweep away the shadows of
hostility.”

Again, they glanced at each other. Faint smiles lifted the corners of
mouths plump and thin, narrow and wide.

“Here are the bylaws of the Brotherhood, long may they live. Act
smart. Look cool. Share your prick, not your heart. Long live the
Brotherhood!”

Smothered laughter broke out as all twelve men tilted their bayberry
candles toward a vast central pillar and set its many wicks alight.

“So let it be done,” intoned the man in the position of leader.
“So may it be.”

Silence filled the air for a long moment.

Then the doorbell chimed.

“Hot damn — food’s here!” Micah, closest to the door,
jumped up, shoved his candle into a holder, and, with a deft flick of a
switch, turned the chandelier lighting on in the main room. “Who
ordered tonight? David? What did you get — Chinese or Thai?”

“Chinese,” David called as he put his taper into another
holder, as did the other men. “Moo shu pork, egg rolls, wonton soup,
sweet-and-sour chicken, beef with broccoli, sesame beef, General
Tso’s, cashew chicken, lo mein –”

“Holy fuck, David! We’re not an army!”

“– and dessert, too.” He blushed a little. “Well, you
guys always say there’s never enough when someone else orders. I
figured I’d get plenty.”

“Yeah, plenty of food, since that’s all you’re
getting,” retorted Micah.

“Not nice,” Simon, their leader, rebuked, folding his hands.
“And would you open the door before the nice delivery gentleman thinks
we’re either crazy or not at home and goes away?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m on my way.”
Micah smoothed his indigo silk shirt more neatly into his tight-cut jeans,
ruffled a hand through his hair, and swung the door open. A delighted grin
split his face. “Hwong Li! How did they know to send you? Was it just
for me?”

“You are a horn dog,” the young Asian man retorted. His arms
overflowed with boxes. “I drew the short straw.”

“There is nothing short about me.”

“So you say. Ninety-three ninety, please.”

“Ninety-three — David, how much food did you order?” Micah
turned, hands on his hips. “It’s obvious you don’t care,
but some of us are watching our figures.”

David blushed a deep, dusky red. “I just wanted to get enough
–”

“You got enough, all right. Lose about ten, and maybe you’d get
something else, too.”

“Gentlemen!”

“All right, all right.” Micah folded his arms. “I’m
not paying for all this myself, men. Pony up the cash.” All around the
room, men dug into their pockets. David produced a twenty and handed it
over, his cheeks still pink. Micah snatched all the cash, counting it with a
quick hand before passing over a hundred dollars. He riffled the bills in
front of Hwong’s eyes, letting him count the cash, before cracking a
nasty smile and slipping the money into the delivery boy’s front pants
pocket.

His fingers lingered.

“Why, Hwong, do I feel a spring roll in there?”

“Your touch would make bamboo soft.”

“Prick!”

“Yes. But not on the market for one such as yourself.”

“Fuck you.” Micah jerked his hand away as if he’d been
burned. “Keep the change.”

Hwong Li regarded him disdainfully. “Shitty tip.”

“You want a tip? Don’t insult me next time.”

“Aw, come on,” the youngest of their group piped up.
“Hwong’s a hottie. Treat him with the r-e-s-p-e-c-t a sister,
uh, brother deserves.”

Hwong glanced past Micah. “Hello, Christian. Got a kiss for
me?”

“You bet.” Christian dug into the pocket of his hooded
sweatshirt and pulled out a handful of chocolate drops. He unwrapped them.
“Here, catch!”

Hwong did a nifty little seal impersonation and snaffled every treat in his
mouth as they flew through the air.

“Someday, I’ll give you the real thing,” Christian
teased.

“You wish you were so lucky.” Hwong stuffed the boxes of food
into Micah’s arms, leaving him no choice but to grab them or drop
them. “Night, ladies.”

“Asshole!”

“No, that’s your specialty.” Hwong turned and walked
away.

Micah kicked the door shut and moved somewhat awkwardly toward the table in
the center of the circle they’d sat in earlier. “Does someone
want to help me with this? Simon? Laurence? Bree?”

“Nope!”

“You’re on your own.”

“No way.”

“You’ll sure as hell eat it, though.” Micah dumped the
boxes down. “Fine, then. Chow down, but leave me the plain white
rice.” He patted his flat stomach. “I don’t want to get a
pot belly.”

“You’re in about as much danger of getting fat as you are of
getting anything else,” Alex said bluntly as he flopped down in a
chair and reached for a container marked Lemongrass Chicken Special.
“Pot, kettle, black?”

“I don’t see you bragging about your conquests.”
Micah’s voice was prickly.

“Honestly! Hwong wasn’t far wrong in calling you ladies.
Quentin, you and Harrison get the beer and wine. The rest of you,
sit.”

“Aye, aye, Simon!”

Micah sat in the middle of a buttery-soft leather couch and crossed his
legs. “I think you’re all carrying this whole Brotherhood thing
too far… or not far enough. Help each other out, everyone doing their
part… then it all lands on someone like me.”

A slight, lithe, curly-haired man who had not spoken as yet murmured,
“You need each other, Micah. Such is the purpose to this group.”
He toyed with a blue crystal that dangled from a chain around his neck.
“Even you need these others, deny it as you will.”

Micah regarded the man with distaste. “All I need, Liam, is one good
night on the town with a decent fuck who knows how to treat a
man.”

A youngish, multi-pierced man flopped down on the couch beside them.
“You want a man who’ll treat you like a god.”

“So what if I do?” Micah retorted. “You just want anyone
who knows how to make the bedsprings bounce, Bree.”

“Yeah, and?” Bree reached for some extra-spicy General
Tso’s. “At least it’s been less than a year for
me.”

“Not by much.”

“Liar, liar, pants not on fire.”

Simon sighed and rolled his eyes to heaven. “Enough! No one else says
a word until we’ve eaten. I invoke Brotherhood Head
status.”

“Yeah, you wish you could get some head,” Bree muttered.

However, despite his defiance, he fell silent, as did the rest of the men.
Falling into place on chairs, divans, and sofas, they dug into the hot Asian
food. Small moaning noises of pleasure filled the air as rich spices and
tangy flavors crossed eager tongues, and sighs of satisfaction were heard as
one or another discovered a favorite among the boxes and cartons. Even
David, picking at white rice himself, found the courage to reach for a
packet of soy sauce and then, with a shy glance up, took a vegetarian egg
roll.

* * *

As the members of the Brotherhood ate, Liam picked daintily at a dish of
cashew chicken and watched each man closely. He did not require food, not as
such, but took pleasure in eating with his Brotherhood. They found so much
delight in their weekly feasts, bitch though they might about waistlines. He
did wish they would leave David alone, though. He might be the slightest bit
plump, but certainly not fat, as Micah would have him, and his softness only
made him all the more delectable.

Micah, on the other hand, was over-tall and far too whipcord-lean to be to
Liam’s taste. But that is the irony and joy of it, is it not? Liam
thought. For everyone, there is someone to appreciate them. These men have
all been far too long without the reverence due those of their worth.

I will show them the path back to sexual triumph and the satisfaction of
conquest, Lilith willing. But I must tread carefully, and mark out my way
step by step…

He continued to watch. Finishing their entrees, the men reached for one
final, cold box. It would seem David had ordered ices — a specialty of that
particular restaurant — to go with their meal. It catered perhaps too much
to American tastes, rather than the finer hallmarks of true Asian cuisine,
but they made a fortune on their desserts. The ices, served in small cups,
were rich and creamy, drizzled in exotic syrups that not even Micah, after
some wavering, could resist. Renewed moans and murmurs of appreciation were
heard as spoons dipped into the smooth, sweet treats and were savored in
eager mouths. In delectable contrast, several men also reached for hot,
sugary doughnuts, blending the tastes and textures.

Liam took for himself a vanilla-flavored ice covered in rose syrup and
savored it, bit by bit. He laughed a little to himself at the choice of
vanilla for a creature such as he, but it made an excellent base for the
rich rose. Sweet and smooth, with just a tang of honey, it flowed over his
tongue. Truly, there could be nothing finer, except perhaps the come from a
man who lived on fruit alone. In his many years, he had tasted such nectar
on occasion and found it to be the best dessert of all.

Still, the food was not his primary concern. Watching the others took
precedence.

Spiky Bree, all youth and exuberance.

Tall, massively dignified Collin, still immaculate in his business suit
from a hard day’s work, looking a little irritated, as ever, at having
to leave his beloved office for a meeting of the Brotherhood. He only came
because his therapist had ordered him to develop social contacts outside of
work.

Disheveled Quentin, his hair tousled in wild bed-head that he’d
likely not bothered to comb save for with his fingers, sexy in a sort of
devil-may-care way.

Simon, neat and cool as his apartment, but tough as — how did they say? —
nails.

Laurence, vulnerable beneath his shell of bravado.

Micah, truly a bitch among man-bitches, but with a core of softness buried
deep down — very deep down, Liam decided.

Soft David, who would be ever so kissable if he lost his shyness and showed
himself off as the prize he was.

Sober, solemn Allen, and cold but beautiful Alex, uncle and nephew, who
shared a slight hard-jawed, dark-blond resemblance save for Alex’s
thin, wire-framed glasses.

Christian, youngest of all, so very innocent, and Harrison, hard with
cynicism.

The Brotherhood. His Brotherhood, Liam’s chosen group of friends.
Gathered together, standing proud against a heterosexually oriented world,
these “gay” men joined as a unit to celebrate their sexuality
and their bond of kinship. It had taken him a little work to join their
ranks, but, ah, it had been worth it. Most of these men had come together
after Simon, a lawyer, had defended them in court against too-rough or
financially cheating lovers who had done them wrong. Liam had had to come in
by word of mouth and a slight use of the magics he had at hand. After all,
no man dared harm him, unless he asked for it ever so prettily, with a
pouting mouth and eyes that sparkled and dared any man to mark him.

With his Brotherhood, he kept his powers carefully concealed. He came to
them for friendship, not a group of conquests, though at times he toyed with
the idea of seeing Micah begging at his feet, or watching proud Collin
between his legs, sucking him off and swallowing down his come as if it
tasted far better than any butternut ice with maple syrup. And yet again, he
thought of gently undressing David, kissing every soft inch of him, petting
his lovely body until he felt as worshiped as he deserved to be.

But no, no. Satisfying as he sometimes thought sampling the Brotherhood
might be, he needed them far more as friends. Without friends, even an
incubus became… lonely. Sex fulfilled but one need of a man, after
all. Having lived millennia, Liam had become acutely aware of his need for
companionship in addition to sex, although he thrived on a nightly diet of
fucking and being fucked, plunging into another man’s tight channel or
having fingers and cocks deep inside him. He fed his powers, and lived on
from day to day, but he came here with equal passion and interest,
cherishing the time all the more for its difference.

However, as he had spent time with these men, this Brotherhood, he had
noticed that despite their attractiveness, not one of them had enjoyed sex
in quite a long time. Bad luck, or simply a dry spell? Liam didn’t
know. What he did know was that he could do something about it. He had
traded one of Lilith’s Tears, identical to the one he wore around his
neck to mark him as an incubus, for a chance to give these men a night that
would transcend their most exotic and erotic fantasies. All that remained
now would be to convince them. Soon, soon, he would set out to do just
that…

About the Author

Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray
cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for
winter weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a
lifelong love of storytelling. Will’s definitely one of the quiet ones you
have to watch out for, though he — not she anymore — is a lot less quiet
these days.

Will on Facebook

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Will on Goodreads

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

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Lord of Storms Teaser Tuesday

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Lord of Storms cover

Dark Fantasy, Capture Fantasy, Action Adventure

Date Published: May 3, 2024

 

 

Advertising executive by day and novelist by night Gray Stewart has
retreated to the country for a much-needed vacation.  She’s at
the top of a mountain when lightning threatens to fry her to a crisp.
She finds shelter with a mysterious man who goes only by Rowan.

Rowan is the Lord of Storms, a super-human being who has power to minimize
the damage of dangerous storms.  He works in secret, and his female
visitor is a threat to that secrecy.  She’s also a threat to his
equilibrium because as long as she’s around, his thoughts keep
straying to sex… and love.

Lord of Storms tablet

 

EXCERPT

 

Gray Stewart had reached the top of the world. Okay, she was only up about
nine thousand feet, but her heart still raced from the climb, and her lungs
were working overtime to suck in oxygen. She’d made it all the way to
the top of Mount Richardson, the tallest peak in this part of California,
and if she could breathe, the view would steal her breath away. Wait
‘til she told the wiseasses back at the office she’d mastered
the climb. None of the macho types who treated women like weaklings could
have kept up with her.

She broke out her water bottle and took a swig and swung her small backpack
off her shoulder onto the granite beneath her. Then, she sat, crossing her
legs. The beautiful ham and Swiss sandwich the inn’s restaurant had
made for her beckoned. She removed the plastic wrap and took a bite. With
the tomato from the farmer’s market in the inn’s parking lot,
nothing had ever tasted so delicious. In fact, the water tasted pretty
damned amazing, too. Maybe she’d give up coffee.

No reason to get crazy about this, though. Pretty soon she’d be back
in the city where you needed caffeine to face the morning. For now, she
could gaze into the valley far below… at the tall pine trees that now
appeared the size of toys for a model train set and the river shrunk to no
more than a ribbon winding between rows of wine grapes.

A couple of days in the country, and her head was starting to straighten
out. She’d left home for college, and for a little hick girl from a
tiny town, that had been a shock. But then, she’d found the chance job
of a lifetime as a professional writer. So, her art consisted of convincing
people that Gloryshine toothpaste could give them a dazzling smile. Big
deal. She made a good income at that and wrote the great American novel at
night. Her life ought to be perfect. So, why wasn’t it?

She continued eating and feeling sorry for herself until she’d
devoured the sandwich. Then, she pulled her knees up to her chest and rested
her arms on them as she studied the beauty of nature. Unless… wait a
minute… was that a… Lord no, please… a thunderstorm in
the distance? Maybe it was travelling away from her. Lightning flashed, and
she started counting the seconds before the thunder. It took some time and
wasn’t particularly loud. A good sign.

Another flash, and this time the thunder came quicker. And louder. So, the
storm was headed her way, after all. She was sitting at the very top of a
tall mountain with no trees around her — just like a lightning rod waiting
to be hit.

Then, the wind whipped up, and clouds gathered. More lightning, followed by
more thunder, now really loud. She had to get away from here and fast.

She scrambled to her feet and grabbed her pack before heading in any
direction as long as it was down. Even city people knew you didn’t
want to be the tallest thing around when lightning was looking for something
to hit. She was moving too fast for the terrain, which you couldn’t
call a path. Rocks underfoot threatened to trip her, and the gravel was even
more uncertain. The rain started, slapping her in the face, blurring her
vision, but she kept going. That blasted storm was chasing her, and either
she reached safety, or she could get fried.

Her backpack slipped from her hand, taking her phone and the keys to the
rental car with it. She kept going, jumping over obstacles and skidding in
places. The way got steeper, and remaining upright took all her effort, and
all the while, the booming got louder. How much longer before the spears of
lightning would overtake her? In the end, something caught her foot and she
fell.

Attempting to catch herself with outstretched arms only caused her to turn
sideways and roll. Sky, dirt, sky, dirt. So fast she couldn’t tell up
from down. Something sharp bit into her arm as she kept spinning down the
side of the mountain. Lord help her if there was a cliff ahead because
she’d never stop.

But she did stop. Suddenly, something dug into her side — a boot, of all
things. And it belonged to a man. From where she lay, he seemed as tall as a
pine and as fierce as a bird of prey.

“What kind of idiot climbs to the top of this mountain ahead of a
thunderstorm?” he said.

“Who in hell are you?” she said right back.

“Never mind. You’d better come with me.” He bent and
scooped her up as if she weighed nothing at all. That was her last thought
before the world went dark.

 

About the Author

USA Today best-selling author Alice Gaines has published several sensuous
and erotic works. She prefers stories that stretch the imagination,
highlighting the power of love and sex. Alice has a Ph.D. in psychology from
U. C. Berkeley and lives in Oakland, California, where she sings in her
church choir.

Find Alice on Facebook

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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

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Sleeping Dragon Preorder Blitz

Sleeping Dragon Preorder banner

 

Sleeping Dragon Preorder cover

Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Women’s Fiction, LGBTQ

Date Published: April 19, 2024

 

 

Youltan lives a life of obligation and service, a slave to the desires of
others, harnessing the strange and powerful chaotic energies known as Ice
Magic. After a final betrayal by the people he protects, he finds himself
transported to the one being who holds the key to his freedom.

The wards tattooed across Garyn’s back ensure his total compliance,
trapping him in his own form of slavery, until one of the traitorous Mages,
the kind that devised this tortuous penance, is placed in his prison. Now
manipulating his way to freedom rules the sex-shifting dragon’s mind.

Garyn never expects Youltan to willingly sacrifice so much for a person he
barely knows. Nor does he expect to find the a core of passionate heat that
exists deep within Youltan’s soul. The fight for survival takes on new
dimensions and strains the very threads of their honor and morality.

But what would you expect….when you prod a Sleeping Dragon?

 

Sleeping Dragon Preorder paperback

 

EXCERPT

 

Feet braced apart, arms extended to their maximum length, he stood and
waited. There was nothing in his mind; his world was a blank slate, waiting
to be filled, waiting for the agonizing pleasure… and the horrific
pain.

Slowly, it began, drawing its energy from the very earth on which he stood.
Pulsing writhing ropes of energy, of magic, of power, twined around
themselves as they sought a rod, a bearer for their might.

Around his ankles they looped, slowly, like some starving creature seeking
sustenance. And what they found seemed to please them, for they began to
roll up the length of his body. Faster and faster they twined, their colors
the brilliant blue that exists in the heart of every fire, the icy white of
the coldest glacier, a sharp glaze of power blinding all who dared watch
this spectacle.

Up around his knees they crept, gaining confidence and speed with every
second. On and on, around his waist, over his chest, across his shoulders
until his head jerked back as if snapped by some unknown entity.

Blood-red lips parted, a scream locked within a frozen throat, and a fall
of silver white hair blew madly around his form in a wind created by power
and magic. Bright lavender eyes snapped open to reveal luminescent sparks of
pure white that illuminated those strange orbs, the eyes of an alien-one,
and the eyes of the demented.

Then the power seemed to lash out at its conduit, raising him to his toes
as wave after wave of pure energy penetrated his body, gained a purpose,
grew in its strength.

His body arched, his arms flying above his head as the sheer strength of
the thing that possessed him brought him to his toes, building and building
until his whole person was one shining, glowing being that seemed almost too
beautiful to view, yet too sinister and compelling to look away from.

Suddenly, a cry erupted from his throat, loud, agonized. The cry echoed
over the land as the very earth began to quake beneath his feet.

His piercing scream startled the onlookers, the curious who had gathered to
view this unusual feat, to watch what both heaven and hell had wrought and
then left to travel this land that they called their own.

But they were too stunned to look away, transfixed.

As he continued to scream, cry after cry of ecstatic pain, the energy that
converged on his body began to coagulate, to meld into one large beam of
power.

Still screaming, he forced his arms toward the pulsing dome that surrounded
the land, the thing that honor and history demanded he tend to, no matter
the cost.

His sudden silence was almost as unnerving as his screams had been, as the
world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, as the tension built around
the young man, as the very gods seemed to tremble in fear.

Then, as the tension built to a plateau, then nothing. Soon the people
began to breathe easy, thinking the show was over, then one final
high-pitched scream exploded from his mouth.

And with that cry, a monstrous beam of light and power leapt from his body.
Blue, silver, white, it all mended and swirled as warring colors shot from
his body, his eyes, his mouth, following its given path, striking the
shields with an audible crash that almost sounded like the shrieking cry of
pure crystal shattering.

His body gave way in the face of such a massive energy burst, but the power
would not let his body fall. It supported him, swirled around him almost
lovingly, then began to drain the very life force from his body.

Head tossed back to its farthest, hair whipping around that face, obscuring
its near beauty from the frightened yet silent watchers, his body bowed and
his knees bent as he fought to retain some of himself from the hungry
energies that sought to leach his very essence from his body.

Trembling and panting, he whimpered once as the beam began to lose its
brilliant illumination, then faded altogether, growing weaker and weaker as
the conduit struggled to reclaim part of himself from the massive outpouring
of power.

Then, suddenly, almost as if it had never been, the beam of light
dispersed, exploded into a million glittering sparkles, before disappearing
cleanly from sight.

With a groan, the conduit dropped to his knees, his body falling backwards
as all the energy seemed to leave with the passing of the beam.

He knelt there, supple body bent backwards, breath struggling in his chest,
as his strange, lavender eyes drifted shut.

Then, as he took his first full breath, the watchers were amazed to see a
shadowy mist exhaled into the brilliant heat of the day, a breath that
seemed as cold as the arctic islands they once harnessed to create that
shield that protected them from the evils of the outside world.

Then his whole body began to spasm.

About the Author

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning
author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually
confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to
pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do
more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and
world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts,
an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing
cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied
legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female
characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and
multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

 

Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

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