EVERYWHERE AND NOWHERE by Rebecca Royce

EVERYWHERE AND NOWHERE by Rebecca Royce


Hadley has only one dream—to see the giant squid, a creature that has always called to her. But when she is kidnapped from her expedition not only is her ambition threatened—so is everything science has taught her about what is possible.

Determined to save his princess from a fate stranger and more terrible than death, Hadrian has no qualms about using Hadley for his own ends. But he finds himself captivated by her inquiring mind and luscious body, and soon he is torn between saving his world and saving his woman.

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Excerpt:

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An Excerpt From: EVERYWHERE AND NOWHERE

Copyright © REBECCA ROYCE, 2014

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Hadley squinted to get a better look at the man who had dragged her from her bed early that morning, tied her arms to the mast and now informed her the whole thing was a mistake. From below deck she could barely make out the sounds of a television blaring and some distant rock music. People were obviously enjoying themselves.

Hadley was not. The truth was, she could barely see without her glasses and the midday sun’s heartless glare didn’t help. If she hadn’t been so completely stunned by what had happened, she would have demanded to be taken below and spared the onslaught of the heat on her pale redhead’s skin.

He cleared his throat and repeated himself as if she were a child or a very dense adult. “On behalf of my entire crew, Ms. Pettigrew, I owe you an apology. We didn’t mean to kidnap you. It was your sister we were looking for.”

That’s somehow supposed to be better? The thought of my sister kidnapped instead of me should make me feel pleased? Is that what they think? She snorted.

“You know what?” Hadley wished, not for the first time, that she had a glass of water. “I didn’t even know pirates still roamed the Atlantic this close to Europe. Sure, I’ve seen you guys on television robbing ships and taking prisoners in places like the Indian Ocean and off the coast of Africa, but I’ll be damned if I ever expected to be taken hostage—mistake or not—this close to Great Britain.”

He raised what was to her a blurry eyebrow. She thought she might have seen a momentary smirk on his face before it disappeared, but since she was basically blind without her very thick glasses she couldn’t be sure. Kneeling in front of her, he held something out for her to see. She looked down and joy filled her heart. He’d brought her glasses.

He opened them and pushed them awkwardly onto her face so that one arm was too high over her ear and the side other poked into the side of her head. But she didn’t care. He’d given her back the gift of sight, and that now she was no longer looking at the world through a veil of unclear fog, the anger that had been hiding at the base of her spine rose inside her, threatening to spill out.

Within moments her cheeks were burning.

Her ears hadn’t deceived her. They were still in the middle of the ocean, or at least as far as she could stretch her head left and right, she couldn’t see any land. But her boat was missing from view too. Since they’d been traveling for what seemed like hours it was likely she was nowhere near anyone who could help her to escape from the clutches of these lunatics.

In her wildest dreams, she’d never anticipated that anyone would actually kidnap her. But there they had been at dawn’s break, bursting into her cabin like a herd of wild beasts, ripping her out of her bed and forcing her off her science vessel and onto their ship. The whole experience had taken less than ten minutes. As far as she could tell, they’d left her crew entirely alone, which meant they’d been looking only for her. Or rather her sister.

They must have thought she would make the best victim in whatever outlandish plot this happened to be.

She hadn’t been able to see who had actually taken her this morning, but she could now see the man who stood before her as clear as day. He might be the one who’d taken her from the boat. He might not. Hadley supposed it didn’t really matter. They were all part of the same team.

Hadley swallowed. Even squatting, it was obvious he was huge. If she’d run into him in a regular social situation she would have avoided his presence—very tall men made her nervous. Given a choice, she preferred the men she associated with to be only a few inches taller than she was, coming in at around five foot eight or so. Shaking her head, she forced herself back to the present.

She needed to focus on getting off the ship.

Hadley didn’t know that much about boats—which was funny considering her family heritage—but she knew this one was huge. Maybe ninety feet plus, making it at least three times the size of the science vessel she’d been on. It had three giant masts, including the one she was currently tied to. She’d imagined boats like this when she read travel magazines. People rented vessels to take vacations and she’d fantasized that they looked just like this one. Who’d known she would end up being carried away to God knew where on something straight out of her imagination?

She had to look out over the horizon to see the ocean, which told her she was very high up. That meant that there were multiple decks between them and the ocean.

Although she was no expert, she would guess it was somewhere between five to seven decks, maybe more. Wherever they were, they were on a significant vessel that required a large crew. Hadley took a deep breath, knowing she was in big, big trouble.

“First of all, thank you for my glasses.” She couldn’t help it. Years of boarding school had driven manners into her psyche and right now they were all that were keeping her steady and sane. Why wasn’t the man answering? “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Nothing irritated her more than being ignored, except maybe being humored. If he really wanted to watch her explode, he could pat her on the head and say something patronizing.

He shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She was pretty sure he knew to what she was referring.

His laugh was a rich, warm caress over her shoulder, not a sensation she should be having while she sat in the blistering sun with her hands tied behind her back. Unless she had come down with Stockholm Syndrome. Was that possible? Could that happen in only a matter of hours?

“What makes you think I’m a pirate? Maybe I’m just a kidnapper looking for ransom from your father.”

His accent was American, the first she’d heard in weeks, since she was the only non-British person on board her science vessel. She would guess he was somewhere from the South. Having been raised in New York City, all the southern American dialects sounded the same to her.

His mention of her father did nothing to calm her nerves. Very few people actually knew who he was. For more years than she could imagine, her father had worked on secret government contracts to build weapons. She’d only recently discovered this fact herself.

Most people thought he ran a shipping company. Her sister, Hailey, still thought he built boats—the story he’d told them as children. But if this man knew who her father was, then it was likely he wasn’t bringing him up because he was unhappy with the date of arrival of his latest yacht purchase or the time some goods he’d ordered had been delivered. She needed to stay calm, not give away that he’d just thrown her for a loop.

She smiled. “I think it must be the get-up you’re wearing. It screams ‘pirate’.”

Why couldn’t she stop being so pleasant to this man? He and his crew had invaded her ship before the sun had risen that morning, terrified her crew and literally stolen her from her bed, dragging her onto their boat. She was still wearing her pajamas. In all truthfulness, she should be glad she’d worn clothes to bed at all. Her quarters were right next to the boiler room and some nights she had no choice but to sleep in the nude. Now that would have been humiliating.

Five minutes ago she’d been ready to gouge out his green eyes and now, because he’d brought her glasses to her, she was treating him with civility. She closed her eyes at how pathetic she was. Even with her feathers ruffled, she could never muster enough gumption to tell someone to fuck off.

“The get-up I’m wearing? It screams pirate?” His tone told her he was genuinely confused by what she’d just said to him. She let her eyes scan his body just to make sure she hadn’t been wrong in her assessment and tried not to blush at the amused glint that lit his eyes.

Six foot three inches tall and all of him toned and fit, he looked like a man who knew how to handle himself in a fight. She wondered what his name was. He’d yet to tell her.

Stick-straight, dark-brown hair hung to his shoulders, a look that might have seemed feminine on someone else but on him said sex god.

But the long hair was nothing in comparison to the rest of him. His face was long and chiseled, with black stubble covering his chin and cheeks. His eyes were almond-shaped and green, like the color of the sea they currently swept across. Long eyelashes she couldn’t help but envy covered them, as if they kept the secrets of his soul hidden from the world.

A sleeveless white shirt allowed her a view of the multitude of tattoos illustrated on his arms. The most noticeable was a giant black bird in mid-flight, which sat on the biceps of his left arm. His green pants stopped at mid-calf, a look she wasn’t used to seeing on grown men, and his feet were bare.

“You have to admit, you’re purposely giving off a buccaneer look.”

He frowned. “I am not. I’m dressed appropriately for a day at sea, that’s all.”

She shrugged, and hissed when the ropes at her wrists dug into her skin. Well that would teach her to try to be flippant while she was tied to a mast. Her captor rushed forward and loosened the restraints slightly. Before she could help herself, she sighed with relief, then wished she hadn’t. If there was anything her father had taught her over the years, it was never to let other people know you needed them.

That gave them power over you.

When he finally finished fiddling with her ropes, he stood again. “So, Ms. Pettigrew, as I was saying—”

She interrupted him. “It’s Dr. Pettigrew.”

“What?”

“My name is Dr. Hadley Pettigrew. If you’re going to use a title, use the right one.”

Normally she didn’t care if someone called her “Hey you”, but right now it seemed hugely important that he know who she was. Maybe it would also subtly tell the man that she was not connected with her father in any way.

He nodded. “I knew that, actually—guess I forgot. Fair enough. Hadley, we meant to kidnap Hailey. For that I owe you an apology, but unfortunately there is nothing to be done about it now. So it looks as if you’re our captive.”

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KEYS TO HEAVEN by Shyla Colt

KEYS TO HEAVEN by Shyla Colt

The Purgatory Series

Born to a fallen angel and a demon, Heavenleigh Spirit has never truly fit in. Shunned, tested, and ridiculed, she’s hardened her heart, building a wall around her none are allowed to scale. Carving a life for herself running the neutral bar, Purgatory, she caters to all things winged , clawed, and other. Provided they play nice. When she breaks her middle of the road stance to rescue a newly fallen angel she gets more than she bargained for.

The amnesic angel awakes in the bed of the only woman he’s ever lusted after with nothing more than the knowledge he was sent to protect her. Struggling to remember who he is, and why she’s in danger, he fully embraces the passion between them that blazes hotter than hell fire. When the truth about his mission comes out he must fight to convince her the love they share is real, and he’s not going anywhere.

In an ironic twist of fate the woman cast aside for a birthright she never asked for holds the keys to the worlds ruin or salvation.

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~Excerpt~

She was almost home when a brilliant flash of life lit up the sky. To anyone else it looked like a falling star, or meteor, but she knew better. The high pitched vibrations coming off the light in waves screamed grace. An angel was falling to earth. She should go home and mind her own business. The short lived battled ended when she veered to the left. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, she had to see it for myself! When she reached the ‘crash’ site smoke billowed from a wooded area. Parking, she leapt down from the jeep, and jogged into the forest, mindful of roots and fallen logs. She neared a giant crater in the center of a glen.

Dark shadows began to slither up from the bottom of the trees. The angel would be disoriented and weak. It wouldn’t stand a chance against an attack of this magnitude, especially with its powers depleted. She had an unspoken rule, she pretended she didn’t see the demons and they did the same to her. She couldn’t stand here and watch them massacre this poor soul. Imagine if this had been her mother all those years earlier. Resigned to the stupid act she was about to commit she dug deep down into her soul, tapping into the part of her she liked to leave alone.

Flames licked at her skin as she walked over to stand in front of the sunken earth. Her eyes burned and she knew they’d bleed, When she was at peak power they glowed. Holding up her hands she admired the flickering, orange fire before she spoke.

“It is under my protection.”

“Since when do you care mid-worlders?” one hissed. There were four to her one, all lesser lever bottom suckers. She could take them with her hellfire, but it’d cost her. Usage of her demon powers always did.

“Does it really matter?” The flames that surrounded her hands grew, lighting up the area like a bonfire. “Who wants to try me first?”

Whispering rose among them. Time to put on a show. She formed a ring of fire around her and the fallen angel she’d yet to check on.

“Cross it if you dare.”

“You win for now Spirit.” They slinked back into the night, blending seamlessly and she disconnected from her demon side. If she was lucky there wouldn’t be any ill side effects other than being overly bitchy tomorrow. Threat dispatched she spun and examined the hole. The body glowed with holy light, obscuring the details. She sank to her knees and peered over into the edge. Crazy, the smoke rolling out of this hole smells sweet.

“Hello?”

As the air cleared she made out a shape cloaked in white. The body twitched.

“I’m here to help you. Can you understand what I’m saying?” Falling was painful and traumatic. It wasn’t unusual for the angel to forget who they were and why they’d come to earth for a time until their body mended and acclimated to the new environment. The light began to fade, revealing features. She gasped. The angel was hot. A shock of chocolate-brown hair fell over his broad forehead leading into a strong jaw and a dimpled chin. His eyelids lifted revealing cobalt blue irises. She’d never had such naughty thoughts about an angel in her life! She flicked her tongue out to moisten her dry lips and did her best to tamp down her arousal. Her nipples were rock hard and her center throbbed.

“Heavenleigh Spirit. I came here for you.”

Her jaw dropped. “You what?”

His body went limp and his head fell back as he passed out.

“Son of a bitch.” Jumping beside him she hoisted him onto her shoulders and groaned. “Pal you’re a lot heavier than you look, and that’s saying a lot given who I am.” Gritting her teeth, she gave up on trying to drag him out and released her wings. A few flaps of the powerful black monstrosities and they were out of the hole. By the time she reached the car it was all she could do to place him in the passenger seat and buckle him in.

“Looks like I’m taking you home. Not exactly how I’d like, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”

Rounding the car she slipped behind the wheel of her black jeep, peeled out and burned rubber. Chances were someone was looking for him, and it wouldn’t take long before the humans came with their cameras and news crews.

ON THE CASE by Zenobia Renquist

ON THE CASE by Zenobia Renquist

Guardian's Tales Two

Everything changes when the tree hugs back.

Darah took what she thought would be an easy assignment -- wake up a tree. Nothing to it, except this tree rouses with a case of morning wood.

Shirish has been asleep for the last few decades and is eager to get reacquainted with the world, starting with Darah. She wants to believe they have a future together but the past has unfinished business with Shirish.

Family secrets long buried threaten to set fire to their budding relationship. Without help, Darah fears their final act of love will be to burn together.

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On the Case (Guardian's Tales 2)
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2014 Zenobia Renquist

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

Brian escorted Darah through a gate in the perimeter fence and up to the base of the tree. He pointed to a gap in the roots that created a hidey-hole big enough for Darah's petite form. "Stay close to this spot. If you hear someone coming, duck into it. My buddy Adam is the one who will get you out. He's a bat like me. Good ears. Just whistle when you want to leave and he'll come get you. You do know how to whistle, right?"

"Yeah."

"Nothing fancy. Just a plain whistle."

"Got it."

"Good luck and don't get caught."

"Thanks and I won't." Darah waved at his retreating back and then faced the tree. "It's just you and me now, handsome. What should we talk about?"

The tree didn't answer. Darah hadn't expected it to. Guardian had warned her this would be a tough case. The tree hadn't spoken in decades. Guardian had said it had been hibernating all that time but she wanted to wake him to make sure of his health. That made Darah his alarm clock.

How was she supposed to wake up a tree? Splash him with water? Pull his branches? Knock on his trunk? If she could get to his trunk. The vines were thicker than she'd thought and surrounded the tree like a dense rope curtain.

Staring at them made Darah shiver. They were almost like something out of a horror movie. She felt like they would grab her any second. That was silly. Trees with inhabiting spirits weren't hostile unless provoked. There were no exceptions. So long as she didn't act threatening, the tree wouldn't harm her.

"How do I wake you up? Do I just keep talking until you tell me to be quiet, because I can do that." She had pulled in a breath to make good on her threat when heavy footsteps on the rock walkway stopped her.

She rushed over to the hidey-hole and crawled into it, hoping there were no bugs calling it home. It was a tight fit even for Darah's small frame but she managed to squeeze in. Several of the branches pulled at her pixie-cut hair and scraped her skin. It felt as if a few drew blood. Or maybe that was sap from the tree dripping down her arm. Whichever the case, she ignored it to listen to the guard as he walked past.

The beam of his flashlight played over the spot above Darah's head. She hunkered down more and hoped her clothes weren't sticking out. Her medium brown skin and dark blue jeans might blend with the shadows but her white shirt was a dead giveaway. If she had known she would be playing hide-and-seek for this assignment, she would have dressed for the occasion.

The guard took his time strolling around the perimeter fence. Was he taking in the sights or something? A fine sheen of sweat coated Darah's body. She wanted to tell him to hurry the hell up, except that would defeat the purpose of hiding. Her need for the man to leave became more urgent when something brushed against her leg.

She thought it might be a root resituating itself because she moved her foot but whatever it was rubbed against her calf in a deliberate manner. It slid down to her ankles and curled around her bare skin above her sock.

Darah bit back a scream. A snake. There was a snake in here with her. A snake that had decided her pant leg was a nice nook to call home. She shook her leg to jar it free but the snake continued its upward path.

Fuck this! Guardian didn't pay her enough to mess with snakes. Darah scrambled out of the hole, not caring if the guard was still there or not. He wasn't, which was good because Darah all but jumped out of her pants to get rid of the snake.

She pushed her jeans to her ankles while slapping at her left leg. The snake was gone so far as she could tell. She couldn't see it and wasn't sure she wanted to. After indulging a full-body shiver of revulsion, she started to pull up her jeans. The last thing she needed was to get caught with her pants down. Nothing she could say would ever explain it well enough to keep her from being arrested for public indecency.

Something thick and long circled her waist. Darah had time for a frightened squeak before it yanked her back into the curtain of vines, which closed around her. She struggled to get free but the vines coiled around her arms and legs.

The tree was awake. Good. Great. Mission accomplished. She didn't know how she'd done it, but job over. Too bad the tree didn't think the same. The vines continued wrapping themselves around her body. Some of them slipped under her shirt. The vines pushed her bra out of the way and started circling her bare breasts.

The tips nudged her nipples, teasing them into taut peaks that tingled with a growing desire that made no sense to her. She should be freaked out, not turned on. The vines rubbing against her panty-clad slit added to her contradictory reaction. As much as she wanted to deny it, the teasing was getting her excited.

Just her luck she got the tree that wakes up horny. That wasn't why she was here though. Excited or not, she couldn't let this happen. "Hold on a second. This isn't that kind of party, mister. Let me go."

If the tree heard her, it didn't act like it and continued fondling her body. Darah hated to admit it but the tree was good with his vines. The ones between her legs had located her clit and stroked it through her panties.

Darah wet her lips, trying to ignore her reaction to the stimulation. She was not so hard up in the sex department that a little clit tickling should make her forget she was in the middle of a garden and there were security guards patrolling. It shouldn't, but the vines made a good case. The moisture gliding down her channel to coat her lower lips was testament to her willingness to hear them out.

"Ca-can we talk about this? Guar-Gua-G... Mmmmm." One of the vines edged her panties out of the way and touched her clit directly. The bolt of pleasure from that gentle touch rendered her momentarily speechless as she enjoyed the sensation.

It seriously shouldn't feel this good. She was being groped by a tree. Nothing in dealing with the preternatural community should make her okay with this. Frisky shifters she expected. Keeping them at arm's length was no easy feat but she'd learned to do it. A tree with morning wood was a little out of her skill set.

The vines pulled her panties down her legs to join her jeans around her ankles. Darah couldn't think of a single protest for that action when one of the vines started caressing its length between her pussy lips so it brushed her channel entrance and clit.

Darah sucked in a breath and then let it out as a soft moan of pleasure. The tree had to be doing something to her. She should be protesting instead of wiggling her hips and arching her breasts forward. Tree aphrodisiac or hypo-pollen -- she needed something to explain why she pulled one foot free of her jeans and opened her legs...

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PURPLE PROSE by Sam Cheever

PURPLE PROSE by Sam Cheever

Forget being creatively blocked. Forget being purple. They just want to survive the process of writing the book!

When she hits the writer's block of all writer's blocks, Lindsey Prince thinks her muse has abandoned her. But she opens her door one day to find a gorgeous new one standing there, "anxious" to help her finish her current project. There's only one problem... her new muse, Zahn, has been turned purple by Calliope, Chief of the Muses, for indulging in Purple Prose. Unfortunately, his fate rests on Lindsey submitting a purple prose free manuscript to her editor. No pressure there.

To make matters worse, Zahn apparently has a powerful and cranky ex-girlfriend who isn't all that thrilled by the growing attraction between Lindsey and Zahn. She'll do anything to stop Lindsey from submitting that manuscript. Anything. Based on the extremely heated "research" she and Zahn have been indulging in, Lindsey knows her sexy IR story will sizzle. She only needs to live through the process of writing it.

No easy task, that.

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Excerpt:

The door to what was apparently my guest room was closed. I stood outside in the hallway for a few moments trying to work up the courage to knock. What Zahn told me at dinner had freaked me out. I’d been worried a lot lately about my inability to put words on paper. I’d begun to suffer under not only the pressure I was placing on myself, but also the pressure I’d been feeling from my editor, Cathy, at my lack of writing production.

I hadn’t sent anything to Cathy for six months. She’d been carefully nudging me with questioning phone calls for the last three. I was in trouble and didn’t need any more pressure.

My plan was to tell Zahn he had to leave. I couldn’t deal with the responsibility for his life as well as mine. It was too much. I had enough problems of my own.

I bit my lip and lifted my fist to knock.

“Come in, Lindsey.”

I frowned at the door, my hand hovering. How’d he do that?

I opened the door and gasped. My mouth hung open as I viewed the unfamiliar room.

“I made a few changes.”

Zahn lay in the middle of the biggest bed I’d ever seen. It was covered by a gold silk comforter that looked about eight inches thick. He leaned against a headboard that reached almost to the ceiling and was padded in the same gold silk. He wore only a pair of black boxers. They shimmered in the soft silver light cast by a matching pair of crystal lamps on either side of the huge bed.

I stepped into the room and my feet sank into the deep, soft pile of an exquisite carpet in a deep cappuccino color. Paintings of nudes in various suggestive poses lined the walls, and shimmering gold fabric draped the window. In the far corner, perched on an oversized tree in a pot, Mike dozed with his head tucked under one wing.

“Wow.”

“I hope you don’t mind. I needed to move a few of your things.” Zahn smiled.

I frowned. “Where’d you put all the boxes?”

“Around. Is there something wrong? You look worried.”

I bit my lip, unsure how to begin. Zahn patted the bed next to him. “Sorry, I didn’t think to add a chair. I usually just lie on the bed when I’m in here.”

I licked my lips, unable to stop the lustful thoughts flying through my mind. “That’s okay, I’ll stand.”

Two long creases appeared between his eyebrows. “Whatever it is, Lindsey, just spit it out. You’ll feel better.”

I opened my mouth, forcing the words out through a suddenly clenched throat. “It’s just that…well…I don’t think I can help you.” When he frowned, I rushed ahead with my excuses. “I can’t even help myself. I don’t want to be responsible for you being purple the rest of your life. It’s just too much pressure. I’m having enough trouble as it is…”

Zahn levered himself off the bed and started toward me.

My heart stuttered at his size and incredible beauty. At five-foot-three, I felt like one of the little folk standing next to him. His skin, looking black instead of purple in the silver light, shimmered like polished ebony. I knew it would be warm and smooth like the most expensive silk. His legs were long, straight, and muscular enough to be masculine, but not in the least bulky. His hips were narrow and his chest broad, with well-defined pecs. My muse was perfection in the male form. As he approached, his sexy almond eyes watched me with the intensity of a jungle cat on the prowl.

He lifted his big hands in my direction.

I flinched away, terrified by the feelings he’d conjured in me just by walking across the room.

Zahn placed his hands on my shoulders, moved them down my arms, and grabbed my hands. My pale skin looked true white against his darker flesh. “I know you’re scared and a little confused by all this, Lindsey. But I’m here because you need me. Not the other way around. I’m purple because of what I did. My actions. You have absolutely no responsibility for my problem.”

As he spoke, his skin warmed noticeably, and something soothing slid from him to me through our clasped hands. I shivered under the pleasurable assault, and my nerves settled.

Zahn leaned close, tilting his head with a soft smile. “Does that help?”

His breath danced softly across my face, and I opened my lips to pull it in. I slid my tongue over my lips as if to taste him.

Feeling slightly dazed, I started to nod but caught myself and shook my head. “No. I just don’t want your help right now. I didn’t ask for a muse and I don’t need one.” I jerked my hands from his and stepped back. I’d come into the room with firm objectives, but somewhere along the way my intentions got fuzzy. With a simple touch, he’d made my thoughts lose focus and overwhelmed my will with his. I didn’t know if he’d done it on purpose, but the result was the same. It was disconcerting.

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JOURNEY OF THE PRINCESS OF ICE by LaVerne Thompson

JOURNEY OF THE PRINCESS OF ICE by LaVerne Thompson

What happens when fire meets ice?

Ice had traveled the realms for centuries searching for the ice elementals, others of her kind but she was alone always alone. Never staying one place for long because sooner or later her mere presence caused the temperature of the land to drop to a killing freeze. Until she found the one place her powers had no effect. And perhaps the one being who could counter her freeze.

Running from a destiny not of his own choosing, Arch finally found the one person who could make him stop running. But Ice must never learn the truth. A fire demon destroyed her world and he was his father’s son.

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From the moment she’d entered the room Arch tracked her movement, curious about her. When the young wizard at the bar spoke to her he found himself rising off the chair to go and rip his head off. He had to lower himself back into the seat and force himself to relax. Soon the notes of a horn filled the room from the music box and the female took the dance floor. Her back was to him but she pushed the hood off her hair and shook out her tresses. That organ in his chest sped up to push more fire through his blood.

An ice maiden! Fucking impossible! Her kind had been gone from the realms for centuries. But the icicles hanging off the end of her waist-length blue and silver hair said otherwise. Then she began to sway and he forgot about everything else. The sight of her hips moving from side to side completely mesmerized him, when she turned around to face him he damn near shot his seed into the leather pants he wore. Bad enough his dick strained against the confines of its restrictions, causing him pain. So that’s what she had hidden under that coat. Curves where a woman should curve and a waist tiny enough for his hands to span from tip to tip. Damn, he whispered under his breath. Surprise, surprise.

He could only sit back and enjoy the show. The pleasure she took in her movements brought a smile to his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that if ever, at least one born of pure joy instead of vicious glee. She stopped after only two songs and it wasn’t until she sat down he realized although the tavern had become more crowded while she danced, instead of the place heating up she’d cooled it down. An ice princess indeed. The male she sat near leaned closer to her to say something and Arch shot to his feet. What the hell was he doing? Instead of marching over there and ripping the bastard’s heart out, he left the tavern and walked out into the night. Stopping on the sidewalk he took a few deep breaths of the night air to get his temperature down. He didn’t dare glance back at the entrance to the tavern for fear he’d go back inside and beat the little shit for talking to a woman he didn’t know.

Arch straightened up and walked in the direction of the inn where he was staying. His thoughts on the strange inhabitants of the tavern but one in particular, who intrigued him. Who would have thought icicles could turn him on? He wondered if his heat would melt the ice coating her hair, and would it be soft to his touch when he did? Already knowing he would find out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a woman, not his nature to deny himself, but they’d been running for awhile now and he missed lying amidst the softness a female provided. A respite from his flight. The ice princess seemed to be one of the regulars in the tavern; he might have to become one, too. The next time he saw her he’d have her, he promised himself. And he never made a promise he didn’t keep. Arch had gone a few blocks from the tavern when the disturbance in the air from cool to hot behind him provided his only warning. He spun around in time to see a hell gate open, flames rising up from the ground to lick at the air and three Furia, hell’s guardians, step through.

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AN APPLE AWAY by Kate Richards

AN APPLE AWAY by Kate Richards

The Wiccan Haus: A witch's spell great love may break

Aislinn never wants to see another doctor. Their painful and pointless treatments have done nothing to improve her rapidly deteriorating health. She hopes that the staff of Wiccan Haus can at least offer a change of scene, if not a return of a little of her former strength. She’s delighted to meet Punda, a masseuse, on her arrival and charmed by the cottage in the apple orchard where she will stay.

Dr. Hugo Peralta visits the island at the insistence of his boss. The distinguished brain surgeon is in desperate need of a respite before overwork makes him one of his own patients. He is surprised but pleased with the privacy and serenity of his cottage - across the orchard from Aislinn’s. An idyllic location on a magical island where love can blossom - if the Rowans can help the trio save Aislinn from whatever is killing her.

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Excerpt

Most of Hugo’s attention remained on Aislinn. Her expressions flitted across her face, happiness, concern when Harvey talked about how he’d nearly lost his love to the evil—Jenny laughed at that, holding her husband’s hand tight—Sam and his “underhanded tactics.” Before he knew it, dinner, whatever it had been, had come and gone and their waiter was placing dessert before them.

“Warm apple crisp, with vanilla whipped cream.” The waiter stepped back. “From our own orchard.” Hugo frowned, but lifted his spoon. Why was the man hovering?

Aislinn, however, dug right in. “Oh, it’s just delicious! You know, my cottage is right in the middle of the orchard. It’s like a fairy tale…I didn’t know apple trees bloomed and fruited at the same time.”

So, this beautiful and intriguing woman was his neighbor—his sole neighbor—in his hilltop retreat. Interesting.

The waiter was going on about the apples. “Oh, a very special variety, miss. Grows only here on the island.”

“Well, it’s lovely.” She spooned up more of the crisp then sighed and set the implement next to her bowl. “But I don’t think I can eat another bite.”

Hugo ate some of the dessert. Good, but he rarely indulged. His focus was still on Aislinn and his medical side became alarmed as she suddenly paled. “Are you all right?”

She drew a deep breath and stood up from the table. “Oh, I’m fine. A little tired, maybe.” Her thready voice worried him.

“Perhaps we should see if a doctor or nurse….”

“No doctors. Never again.” Her vehemence added strength to her tone and sent an unhappy flip to his stomach. “I-I think I’ll be heading back to my cottage now. It’s been a pleasure having dinner with all of you. I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure.”

She took a few steps away and he rose, intending to join her, but a dark, graceful woman arrived at her side and led her over to a table where four people sat. They nodded in welcome and chatted for a few moments before one of them reached into a pocket and pulled out a vial. She tapped it, speaking with a serious expression before handing it to Aislinn. Rising, she gave her a quick hug then returned to her seat.

Aislinn left the room with the dark-haired woman’s arm around her waist. She must be very ill. But what had doctors done to make her reject their care and turn to quackery?

And what the hell was in that vial?

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BLACK RAYNE SCARLET MOON by Yvonne Nicolas

BLACK RAYNE - SCARLET MOON by Yvonne Nicolas


Did you ever struggle to get things right or to do the right thing?

After learning of her true nature, Sharayna “Rayne” Piers has been plunged into a world of darkness, and stripped of her humanity. Half angel and half demon vampire, she is the mythical Dragon Queen, a birthright she finds difficult to accept. She struggles with the dual side of her psyche, good and evil, and the growing urge to sate her unnatural hunger for human blood.

Lucius, the powerful spawn of Satan has risen from hell and released his demons to scour the earthly realm in search of the Dragon Queen. He’s determined to claim her as his mate and use her blood to overthrow his father, so he can take command of the seven levels of hell. And he will stop at nothing to get her.

As Rayne’s protector, Demetri Bithanos fights to prevent the master demon from claiming his Queen. As her consort, he struggles with his aching need to be loved by her. But the dark lust of her vampiric nature reaches for the creature who desires to use her blood to fulfill his evil ambitions.

Can Demetri destroy Lucius before Rayne embraces the dark forces growing within her?


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Excerpt:

Trembling, Demetri released his hold on her. “Sharayna, what are we doing?” 

Blue-green orbs melted through the lifeless puddles of black in his eyes. The dancing flames along the ceiling died down until there was no light left in the room. The glare from the full moon peeked from the opening in the curtains and veiled their bodies in red. 

Demetri took in several long shuddering breaths like it was his first time drawing in air. 

Unconsciously, she did the same. For the longest, they stared at one another, not saying a word. 

He pressed his forehead to hers, released her leg and wrapped his arms around her. “What are we doing?” he asked again on a harsh whisper. 

“I don’t know.” She curled her fingers around his biceps and slid a hand up over the bunched muscles in his shoulders. “What I said before…baby, you know I didn’t mean that, right? I, I don’t know why I said those things, or why I picked a stupid fight with you.” 

He lifted his head and gazed at her with sadness in his eyes. His full lips quivered. “The blood. It has possession over us.” 

Chills crept beneath her flesh. Lucius. His blood had fueled anger between them, preyed on her fears and doubts in an attempt to tear them apart. And he almost succeeded. 

Damn, the things she said… Her heart lurched. “Demetri…” 

All the pain he felt for what had just happen spilled from his gaze. He turned his head away and pushed up off her. 

His beefy member exited her body. Her sensitive walls clenched in need for him. 

He got to his feet and adjusted his pants. “Sweetheart, I don’t know if I can―” 

Rayne shot up from the nest of pillows and pounced on him like a cat. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and then slammed him onto the pillows, using her own body weight to bring him down. 

In a swift response, he flung her onto her back, pinned her arms out to her sides and straddled her. She erupted into a fit of giggles at the shocked look on his face. 

“What is this?” His eyes were as wide as saucers. “Why did you do that?” 

“I dunnooo,” she chortled, tears filling her eyes. 

“Are you mad, Sharayna?” His gorgeous visage twisted into a scowl. “After what just occurred, you want to rough house with me?” 

“I’m buggin’ out here.” Delirious laughter turned into panting sobs. “I’m scared outta my damn mind, D. You see this craziness? He got us trippin’ on each other and he’s not even here!” Her voice lowered to a shaky whisper. “What if we don’t snap out of it next time? What if we really hurt each other?” 

He released her arms, pushed up, and nestled his torso between her thighs. “Ohh, sweetheart…” With his head buried in the cleft of her breasts, he dug his hands into the bundle of pillows beneath her and hugged her waist, his body hot and heavy on top of hers. He huffed out a weary sigh. “This is not the end. He has not bested us.” 

She slipped trembling fingers into his hair and softly kneaded his scalp. “How do you fight what’s apart of you?” Tears bubbled from the corners of her eyes and trickled down her face. “How do you resist what’s in your blood?” 

“Remember we are not only connected by lust.” He lifted up, took her hand and placed her palm to his chest. His heartbeat and warmth radiated through her touch. “We will get through this, Sharayna.” 

“I don’t see how when he can―” 

“Do you trust me?” 

“Yeah baby, you know I do,” she whimpered. 

Working the gown up her body, he pulled her further down beneath him until his long hardened cock rested along her nether lips. She moaned out a sigh and locked her legs around him. He pulled the bunched fabric over her head, tossed it aside and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Her body hummed in response.

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ON A WHIM by Zenobia Renquist

Today on our Cyber Launch Party Blog we are celebrating a sexy new IR fantasy from Zenobia Renquist's (aka D. Renee Bagby)!

ON A WHIM by Zenobia Renquist

Guardian's Tales Book One

Mortals should beware the whims of gods.

Rosaline never thought she would find a meaningful relationship at an adult party for the denizens of the preternatural community. She came to have fun and flirt with danger while hiding behind the safety of the party's rules. And then she met Sebastian, a demi-god who demands all her attention and satisfies her every need.

Even though her head says it's nothing but pleasure between consenting adults with no strings attached, her heart is wondering if this fickle demi-god might actually want to be with her.

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Guardian's Tales: On a Whim
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Zenobia Renquist

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Her heart thundered in her chest. The deafening bu-bump drowned out all other noise. She knew the people staring at her could hear it. She only needed to do a quick introduction. Really quick. Open her mouth, spit it out, and it would be done. She really hated public speaking.

"My name is Rosaline, and I will be your server, voyeur, and touchstone this evening. Should you need any refreshments, food of any kind, or props please feel free to call on me. For those who like to be watched, I am happy to oblige." She swallowed a little before uttering the last, wondering desperately why she had to say it at all.

"My body is bared for you all to touch as you like, though you can only use your hands. There will be no scratching and nothing that is intended to cause pain. My pussy --" She almost stumbled saying the word. "-- and ass are open for fingering, but please know that I am an anal virgin."

She bowed her head, happy to have an excuse not to look at the crowd any longer. "Thank you for attending Guardian's soiree. I hope you enjoy your evening."

She, a human, was out of her mind telling a room full of preternatural beings from all walks of life what they could and could not do with her body. Most of them could break her with a flick of their pinky finger.

Beside her, Guardian laid her hand on Rosaline's bare shoulder. "Good girl."

Rosaline said, in a low voice though the audience could probably hear her, "I still don't understand why you couldn't tell them. They listen to you."

"You created those rules when you decided you wanted to attend. You have to tell them. They may be infinitely more powerful than you, but you are the one who has the right to say no.
What's more, they have to heed that." Guardian patted Rosaline's shoulder once more. "Now then. Time to be groped. Go mingle and do as you told them you would."

Rosaline's whole body flushed.

It was time. The thing she had been anticipating the whole week long had finally arrived. She took one step forward and felt her four-inch heels wobble a little before stabilizing. The heels were two inches higher than she liked, but her friends had insisted the fire-engine red stilettos made Rosaline's legs look hot.

That was a good thing, since she didn't feel the same way about the rest of her body. One month prior to even asking Guardian about attending the party as a server, Rosaline had spent every free moment exercising. Mornings she did cardio, she had a mini-stair stepper to use while at her desk, and she spent the evenings using the machines at the gym. She'd even put herself on a strict diet of green vegetables, fruit, and fish -- baked, not fried. All of it in hopes of looking good while standing in a room full of preternaturals whose naturally fast metabolisms kept them looking like swimsuit models for sports magazines with no effort.

All her work had paid off. She had dropped from a size ten to a size eight. She could fit a size six if she knew she wouldn't be bending and felt like holding her breath while sitting. But clothing size didn't matter that evening since she couldn't wear anything to cover her little flaws with the perfect outfit that showed off all her hard work. The attire of the evening consisted of heels and a matching collar sporting a coin that proclaimed the servers as Guardian's property. Guardian allowed the men to go barefoot, if they preferred, which most of them did.

Rosaline rubbed the coin as a way to calm her nerves.

Guardian's property.

That meant no one could run off with Rosaline without Guardian's permission. There were a few servers who didn't have the coin. They wanted someone to run off with them. Rosaline wasn't that brave or stupid. She wanted a little taste of the world she'd only glimpsed from behind her desk. After that, she would go back to her mundane life with a fond memory.

She continued forward into the crowd. Her whole body hummed with the awareness that any second someone would touch her bare skin. The touch could be brief or prolonged depending on the mood of the one touching her.

The first table she passed was a group of vampires watching two women and two men having sex on the tabletop. Only one woman at the table glanced Rosaline's way. Rosaline gave the woman a small smile, but the gesture wasn't reciprocated. The woman turned her attention back to the table's entertainment.

Rosaline passed by a group of shifted were-hyenas who seemed to be playing a highly sexualized version of monkey in the middle with the person in the middle of the group trying to avoid domination from those who entered the circle.

She stopped and watched.

One man entered the circle. He tried his attack but was soon on the receiving end of a very vigorous ass pounding. He managed to throw off the other male, who left the circle with a smug sounding, hissing laugh that reminded her of the cartoon villain dog from her childhood -- mutt-something or other. The male exiting the circle winked at Rosaline before turning his back on her so he faced the defeated.

A second entered the circle. A woman this time. She managed to overpower the male as well. Though when she flipped him on his back so she could avail herself of his dick, it didn't seem like much of a punishment for losing.

Rosaline shrugged, shook her head, and moved on. Like the two groups before, most everyone occupied themselves with their own distractions, pretty much ignoring her. That disappointed her more than a little. She had spent the whole day psyching herself up to being groped by a room full of strangers.

A quick glance around the room showed the other five servers were receiving the same treatment. Was this normal? Maybe the patrons of the party liked to play with each other before molesting the staff.

"Here, girl."

Rosaline looked around. Two men occupied a booth off in the corner of the room. The man with his hand raised had to be the one who had called out to her. She walked over to him with a smile. "You called for me, sir?"

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FOUR COWBOYS AND A WITCH by Cheryl Dragon

FOUR COWBOYS AND A WITCH by Cheryl Dragon

Warrior's Craft Book Two

Danielle left Texas for plenty of good reasons. The psychic had been called a witch and a lot worse. The only thing she missed was the four men who'd never let her down.

Back in Houston to settle her aunt's estate, Dani is drawn into their fight against a mysterious creature. A lot has changed, and they want her in their life and their one, very Texas-sized bed. A quiet ranch life with a paranormal mission and four hot cowboys eager to share her is more than she ever dreamed of having.

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Four Cowboys & A Witch
Cheryl Dragon
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Cheryl Dragon

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

Ben Richner paced the family-room-turned-command-center of his Houston ranch. The proper living room was still decorated to the hilt, ready to receive and entertain guests in proper Texas fashion. The tucked away command center was stocked with laptops, maps, and reference books on the paranormal.

Being pagan in Texas felt like being a kitten surrounded by western diamondback rattlers -- you didn't stand a chance except to hold still and hope they didn't see you. Of course, Ben's crazy old aunts never cared. He'd learned it all young: Loving nature was okay here, but the good Christian ladies grew very uncomfortable with the pagan label.

As talented as this group of men was, only one had any spark of a magical gift, and it barely registered against the vampires they'd fought. A key piece of their group eluded them.

"Quit staring out the window. Trey and Rodney will get back when they're done." Sam Gradar stood and made his way to the kitchen with his coffee mug.

"I know," Ben said.

He had grown so used to Sam's limp he barely noticed anymore. Today, however, it grated on Ben: the pain in Sam's green eyes, and how that long sandy hair swung more when the limp hurt him.
Guilt never went away. They'd been warned and couldn't get to Sam in time. The rodeo accident in high school had been truly cruel harassment of a gay man. Seven years hadn't healed Sam's leg.
Nothing could. It was good to be rich and own land in Texas. Ben had flown in specialists but there were no fixes.

Pagan and gay, the group had some strikes against it, but technically they weren't gay. The missing piece was the right woman. The fact that the four of them had plenty of muscle from working a horse ranch meant others rarely harassed them.

Ben shook off the history running through his head. The case needed attention, yet his brain kept flashing back to high school when he'd fallen in love with Trey, and they'd both had a crush on that pesky Danielle girl.

Danielle Embers' name had come up when her father's aunt died last week. Since then, the group had kept their ears open for word that Dani'd returned to Houston. The very gifted woman had left for college and never returned. Her looks haunted him, long blonde hair and dark eyes that hinted of the power she tried to hide.

Finally Trey and Rodney pulled up in Trey's loaded silver pickup. The two climbed out. Ben met them at the door. The sight of Trey's handsome face, short brown hair and brown eyes comforted Ben.
"You're hyper today." Trey kissed Ben.

"It's Dani. She's in my head. Her aunt wanted no funeral and was cremated so maybe she won't come back. Someone has to claim the ashes and her possessions. What if Dani has them shipped?" Ben hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his worn out jeans.

"We've put feelers out all over town. If she shows at the retirement apartment complex, the funeral home, or any of our usual haunts, they'll call us." Rodney shrugged.

Ben smiled at the ever practical and overly smart man of the group. Black hair and dark eyes made him look like the magical practitioner he wanted to be. Finding that online coven for pagan men was Rodney's genius. He'd learned a lot, but they could really use Dani's gifts.

A hand slapped Ben on the back. He looked over.

"You okay?" Trey asked.

"Yeah, fine. What did you find at the attack site?" Ben rubbed his eyes.

Rodney turned on a laptop and hooked up his smartphone. "I got pictures. The property owner swears he didn't hear a thing all night. No howls or noises from the herd. There were no footprints or tire tracks."

"After that rain yesterday, the ground is still damp. There should've been some impressions." Trey moved over as Sam returned with his coffee.

"Another pricey cow killed?" Sam asked.

Trey nodded. "It was bloated from the sun this morning already, but the blood was gone. We cut the neck and the legs, barely any blood."

"Wolves? Coyotes?" Ben suggested.

Sam studied the pictures. "No, packs tear up the body. This one is pristine. I can't believe the coyotes didn't go after the meat."

"They didn't. You know animals. There must be a reason. Some scent they don't like. We took samples from the wounds, but the holes are so small it'd take forever to drain a heifer that way." Trey walked away with a shrug.

Ben loved the experience dynamic. Trey and Sam knew animals and ran a tight ranch. Rodney had the book smarts while Ben had the quirky ideas. "Did you put it to the online coven guys?"

Rodney shook his head. "I'll do it now that we've got evidence. The other two reports this week were shredded by predators by the time we got there. Vultures were circling when we arrived."

"See what they say online. Could be kids being dumb or something paranormal we don't know about." Ben nodded.

"Vampires haven't been a problem since we made them toe the line six months ago," Sam said.
"Who says it's vamps?" Trey asked.

"Who else wants blood?" Sam replied.

"There's too much blood in a huge cow. How'd they keep it fresh? Pump and store? Come on, they can raid the blood banks or hospitals instead of doing the work for cow blood. It's something else." Ben liked the surge of fighting the unknown and helping people.

"I'll put it online to the coven and start researching similar cases." Rodney settled in with the computer.

Ben's phone beeped and he looked at the text message. Dani Embers at retirement complex now.

"Put the cows on hold, guys. Dani's in town." Ben turned and headed for the door. The other three followed. He could feel the group lighten up. As good as they were together, Ben knew they'd never be civilized without the right woman. Pagan warriors for good needed a goddess to connect them to the feminine powers. In Texas terms, there was no home without a woman in it.

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THE DEVIL YOU WANT by Sam Cheever

THE DEVIL YOU WANT by Sam Cheever

Dancin' With The Devil Book Five

Astra Q Phelps gave her boyfriend a magic hickey. Usually not a world-changing issue. But in Astra's case, her boyfriend is king of the Royal Devils. And Royals have always thought that only males could mark their mates. So how did she do it? Even Astra doesn't know. That's the first of her problems.

Now somebody's trying to kill the naturally curious Astra, which is always a problem.

Thirdly, there's Slayer. He's shown up on Astra's turf and wants her to hire him. Given their undeniable sexual chemistry, that's probably not going to go over well with her boyfriend. Not to mention that he's got some baggage that's gonna come back to bite Astra big time.

Add in the nearly constant sexual need caused by her Settling and you have a whole lot of stuff for Astra Q Phelps to handle. But, as you probably know by now, she's definitely up to the challenge.

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: THE DEVIL YOU WANT

Copyright © SAM CHEEVER, 2012

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Prologue

The Devil you want may stoke your fire, and set your loins ablaze.

The Devil you want could love inspire, or lives and continents raze.



My name is Astra Q. Phelps. Don’t ask me what the Q stands for because that little piece of info will go with me to the crematorium. I’ve had all printed documentation of the name destroyed and, though a lot of my enemies have tried to dig it out, no one will ever know what it stands for. A girl has to have some secrets. Especially when the truth would cause her some serious embarrassment.

I run a business called the Angel Network, which is the only devil- and demon-locating and -destroying business in the universe. In other words, I kick serious evil butt for a living. I am a Tweener. What exactly is a Tweener you ask? A Tweener is a non-human. We have neither wings nor horns, but generally have both angel and devil in our family forests. Which is probably why we enjoy a higher sensitivity to spectral influence than regular human people.

Recently, the Celestial Army has been keeping me pretty busy saving the world. Over and over and over and…well, you get what I’m saying. The human world just has trouble staying saved.

It’s been a busy and confusing time. But it’s about to get much worse.

My twenty-fifth birthday is just a few months away.

The thing about that twenty-fifth birthday is…well…for Tweeners it’s kind of make-or-break time. It’s called our Settling and it’s the culmination of our growth period. The time when we become what we will be in life. It’s also the time when the dark side of our nature has the greatest pull.

It is on our twenty-fifth birthday that we decide which way we’re gonna go. Good or bad. Black or white. Gray usually isn’t an option. And outside influences have a lot to do with the outcome. In my case, my influence pool is decidedly murky, given the fact that I hang out a lot with devils.

Lately, my life has taken a turn toward the complex. Dialle, King of the Royal Devils on Earth and my steady boyfriend, is really mad at me because I marked him with a Daemon hickey.

I guess females aren’t supposed to be able to mark males.

How would I know that? Nobody told me that little piece of devil trivia, thank you very much. And apparently it isn’t true anyway…since I did manage to put that cute little power mark on his sexy throat.

But now he’s all embarrassed and mad and threatened in a male way, and I’m dancing the romance two-step trying to win back his love.

Bleurgh!

To make things even more complex, somebody’s trying really hard to kill me. And they’re doing a bang up job of it too. Staying alive is becoming increasingly difficult.

And my longtime friend and partner Emo is in celestial anger management, dealing with his own Settling.

Forget doing my job slaying demons.

The one place I can go for help isn’t really a good option at all, since the helpful and sexy Slayer represents mucho temptation to me and my stupid Settling.

Any minute now my slut-monkey side might just take him up on one of those offers he likes to present during a moment of weakness.

My weakness…not his.

So anyway, those are the high points of my life at the moment.

Ugly, huh?

What? Oh, you wanted the dirty details? Well, all right, it’s your brain cells that are at risk. Not mine.

Here we go…

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THE VAMPIRE SHRINK by Lynda Hilburn

THE VAMPIRE SHRINK by Lydna Hilburn

Book 1, Kismet Knight, Ph.D., Vampire Psychologist Series

Denver Psychologist Kismet Knight, Ph.D., doesn’t believe in the paranormal. She especially doesn’t believe in vampires. So what happens when she finds herself neck-deep in the vampire underworld?

Kismet is smart, witty and attractive. She’s respected in her field, successful and prosperous. She’s followed all the rules – done everything right. So, what’s the problem? Her life is empty. There’s no passion. No vitality. No excitement.

That is, until a new client introduces Kismet to the vampire underworld, and a drop-dead gorgeous, 800-year-old vampire named Devereux. Kismet isn’t buying the vampire story, but can’t explain why she has such odd reactions and feelings whenever Devereux is near. Kismet is soon forced to open her mind to other possibilities when she is visited in her office by two angry bloodsuckers, who would like nothing better than to challenge Devereux by hurting Kismet.

As Kismet gets pulled deeper and deeper into the vampire subculture, she struggles to hold onto her professional ideas about what is and isn’t “real.” The more she finds herself attracted to the charismatic, handsome Devereux, the more out of control her life becomes.

When one of her clients shows up in her office almost completely drained of blood, Kismet finds herself immersed in an ongoing murder investigation. Kismet is questioned by irreverent, handsome FBI profiler Alan Stevens, who warns her that vampires are very real. And one is a murderer. A murder who is after her.

In the midst of all this, Kismet realizes she has feelings for both the vampire and the profiler, but even though she cares for each of the men, facing the reality that vampires exist – along with all the other supernatural insanity she discovers – is enough of a challenge. For now.

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THE VAMPIRE SHRINK - EXCERPT #4

A Really Bad Night . . .

It was perhaps lucky that I didn’t know right away that I’d woken up in a coffin. The first thing I noticed was a putrid smell, a unique stench consisting of backed-up sewer, rotted meat, blood, mold, mildew, and death. The smell was so horribly potent that it caused me to become aware of the second thing: it was very dark. The reason the smell triggered me to notice the darkness was because as soon as I got a good whiff of it, my stomach heaved. I tried to sit up, or roll over, because I didn’t want to throw up on myself, and I was certain that barf was in my immediate future.

My attempt to sit up caused me to bang my head against an unexpected barrier, which led me to discover there was a ceiling directly above my body. I began to push against it and quickly deduced it was an immovable object, or at least a very heavy one.

Then I panicked.

The feeling of my hands pushing against the resisting material immediately triggered a cellular memory of the aforementioned movie and I started to scream, which shifted my attention away from throwing up. This proved to be very helpful: fear is a powerful motivator. Like the mothers who lift multi-ton vehicles off their children, imagining myself locked in a box for my ride up the Entry Ramp to Eternity allowed me to become Hulk-like in my strength, and to force open what turned out to be the bulky lid of an old coffin.

I sat up, still screaming, the sound reverberating off the walls of the small, decrepit building I’d awakened in. A building that smelled extraordinarily bad.

Raising the lid on the coffin allowed me to see the sunlight filtering in through the broken front door. I couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but it was obviously daytime. A chunk of my life was missing. I valiantly tried to reconstruct the chain of events that had brought me to this moment, and failed.

I stopped screaming – mostly because it hurt my throat – and let my eyes adjust to the dim light. Being able to see where I was made things worse. Instead of only suspecting I was up shit creek, I now had verification.

The building was an old, run-down mausoleum. Low spots in the cement floor were filled with stagnant, rancid water mixed with blood from several dead bodies. Even in the limited light, it was clear that no one in any state of aliveness could be the color of the remains scattered around that room. The place looked like a human slaughterhouse. Back in a corner were bones and pieces of rotting clothing, which gave evidence to the likelihood that whatever was going on here had been going on for a very long time.

Needless to say, I had to get out.

I assumed that whoever had killed all those people was probably coming back to get me. I didn’t have time to think about why I was still alive, why the murderer had left me in the coffin instead of adding me to the collection on the floor. It occurred to me I was probably in shock, which explained the strange fuzzy feeling in my head.

Since the lid of the coffin had only swung back on its hinges and was still standing straight up on one side, I couldn’t brace myself by holding on to both edges to lift up. Grabbing the available edge, I put my other hand down alongside my legs and felt it sink into clumps of dirt or sand. As I pulled my knees underneath me, I heard a soft clattering sound as something knocked against the inside of the coffin. I reached my hand out to find what had made the noise and closed my fingers around a long stick-like thing. I brought it up into the light and found myself in possession of a human bone. I had been lying on top of whoever had been buried in that coffin.

Holy shit!

My stomach lurched again and I rose to my feet as if pulled by ropes. Looking down, I could clearly see the remains of the original resident. With shaking hands I brushed off as much of the desiccated decomposed material as I could from the rear of my pants and apologized silently to the person I had scattered into the air.

The coffin I was now standing in was situated on a pedestal about three feet off the floor. The area close around it was filled with dead bodies and pools of bloody water. I would have to jump, which under the best of circumstances called on grace I hadn’t cultivated, and to jump while wearing four-inch heels would guarantee a painful outcome. But if my choice was to wait in the coffin for the psychopath to return or take my chances with a sprained ankle, I’d choose the sprain anytime.

Since I was far from adept in physical situations, it took me a moment to work out that I could sit on the open edge of the coffin, swing my legs out, and scoot down, then find a small space for the ball of my foot on one of the few dry spaces on the floor and ease myself away from the pedestal.

Kismet the nerd who flunked gym class in ninth grade.

That’s what I did, all the while listening for any sound that would alert me to the return of the monster who’d brought me there.

I walked on tiptoes through the carnage to the door, unable to avoid wading through puddles of slimy, bloody water, and finally reached the stairs leading up to the light. My stomach had been clenched so tightly I’d barely breathed since I left the coffin. I climbed up the stone steps and shoved the door. It swung open on rusty hinges, making that sound always present in horror movies. Then I stepped out into the sunshine and found myself in the middle of an old graveyard.

I heard sounds of traffic nearby and moved in that direction. I kept glancing behind me to see if it had been a trap, if someone – or something – was going to spring out at me from behind one of the huge gravestones and haul me back into the pit of hell, but I was alone.

Doubtless I must have been quite a sight as I walked out of the ornate cast-iron gates of the graveyard and crossed the parking lot of McDonald’s.

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FOUR GUYS AND A WITCH by Cheryl Dragon

Warrior's Craft Book One

When demons invade Detroit, four modern day pagan warriors go to work, but they need a little extra help from their favorite sexy witch.

Phoebe has been their magical contact for years, but none of the men have dared break ranks to make a move. A protection spell won't cut it this time. The group needs sex magic to boost their skills and bond them on a new level.

Sharing a hot witch is one thing, but two of the men have issues which make baring their feelings harder than their bodies. Phoebe is determined to have them all and bring love to the warriors' world.

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Four Guys & A Witch
Cheryl Dragon
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Cheryl Dragon

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The tingle of testosterone and masculinity in the air made Phoebe's body hum. It happened every time she walked into the Franklin and Matthews Office Of Private Investigations. The office was located in a converted Victorian home in the historic section of Detroit, where four men lived and shared a mission. They didn't dress like superheroes, though they'd look good in tights. While they didn't have special powers, they saved people from the things that went bump in the night.

Knowing their secret and helping the warriors with their battle put her in rough spots sometimes. Phoebe knew they were on the side of light and good. Her great aunt, who led the local coven, didn't approve, but Phoebe had to help. When they called, how could she resist?

She walked past the front room and into the old music room. Two large desks were positioned where she suspected a baby grand once stood. Her powers seemed to increase around the men, and this old house felt like a home to her. Since her coven consisted mostly of women, it made sense that the change to men felt good. She had to work hard not to romanticize her time with the guys. Fantasizing came later.

"Hey, there's the prettiest witch in Michigan." Andy Matthews walked out from the kitchen and hugged her. With black hair, blue eyes, and a build like a prizefighter, he intimidated many opponents. He was dressed for the gym. Phoebe didn't mind the view at all.

Andy's boyfriend, Jude Clark, was right behind him and gave her an extra squeeze. "We'll be back soon. Gotta sign a new client." He waved on his way out the door. Those boy-next-door good looks on a large muscled frame fit his job as a personal trainer perfectly.

"DC is in the dining room. He needs the help." Andy gave her a thumbs up and dashed to catch Jude.

"Bye." She waved back. Her body desperately wanted to follow them. They were a couple, but openly flirted with her. The other two men in the group were single and, by all accounts, straight. Of course, they were the ones who kept a more respectful distance. Men!

She walked back to the dining room. They'd done basic repairs to keep the house up, but the old printed wallpaper remained. The furniture had held up well through years of use, lots of wood and overstuffed sofas and chairs. Upstairs she knew there were several big bedrooms. In her dreams she moved in, played house, and things got hot. Then reality hit -- she was just a visitor. But it felt good while she was here.

DC was bent over his books and laptop as usual. The slight geeky effect of his glasses in no way detracted from his battle-ready body. They trained for battle. Her pagan warriors against evil wouldn't go down the wrong path. When she set her patchwork bag of essentials on the table, she spooked DC.

"Sorry. I thought you were expecting me. Why are you in the dining room? Reed is out too?" She took a seat in the antique mahogany chair.

"I was going to bring the books to the front office, but here is fine. Reed's in the back office working on a non-paranormal job. Have to keep the money coming in. Once we destroy this group of demons, I'll take all the substitute teaching work I can." DC slid a map of Detroit in front of her.

"Must be a powerful group if you've been after them for two weeks." Phoebe saw the bandage on DC's strong forearm. His intense hazel gaze caught her and she buried her nose in her bag. "Is your arm better?"

"Pretty much. Their saliva has some sort of enzyme that slows healing. They've killed one person we can confirm, and attacked a few more since we've been after them. We took out a few but there are more." DC tugged his long-sleeved shirt down. He was dressed casually today, jeans and dress shirt. The former history teacher seemed distracted.

"What can I do to help?" At only twenty-seven, Phoebe wasn't the most powerful witch in her coven. Most weren't willing, though, to help men who went out to do battle. Wiccans were anti-violence except in cases of self-defense, but Phoebe saw the shades of gray others refused to acknowledge. Protecting innocents from vampires and demons was as noble as any calling.

DC shrugged. "They moved again. We need to know where they are. And if you have any ideas of how to increase our luck or protection, I'll try anything."

Phoebe touched his arm and he flinched. Pulling her hand away, she focused on her work, not her feelings for these men. Despite their tough exteriors, honor ran deep through all these men. Between cases, she missed them. She knew they missed her too, although they didn't admit it.

"I can find them, but we've already tried the basic protection spells. I'm not with you guys so I can't be there to help. Reed won't let me go into battle." She frowned.

"You're not a killer. You won't even step on a spider. Plus, if you were there, we'd lose our focus. Reed's right about that. All of us would be worrying about you and not concentrating on the job." DC sat back as if the matter was closed.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of if I were threatened or if someone I cared about was in danger. I've got more powers than you do," she calmly asserted.

DC shook his head. "Reed and Andy created this group to fight paranormal danger -- men who risk their lives and sacrifice their time to protect innocents and keep evil under control. We know the deal and we've accepted it. We need your help as a witch, not a fighter."

Same conversation, different case. Her friends wanted her safe, and she had to appreciate that. Something was still missing. Phoebe just couldn't put her meditative mind on it.


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