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Thursday, September 21, 2017

Throwback Thursday: Backfire by Gale Stanley #tbt #Paranormal #MMRomance @SirenBookstrand



Backfire (MM) by Gale Stanley
Southwest Shifters 3

Heat Rating: SCORCHING
Word Count: 23,133

[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romance, M/M, shape-shifters]

Jack Remus has always been a player. While his pack mates value their relationships, Jack is only interested in casual sex—one night of passion, then a parting of the ways, never to see each other again. And that’s exactly what he’s looking for at the Silverado Saloon, but his plans backfire when he follows an intoxicating scent and ends up in the middle of a brawl.
Dakota is on the run from an abusive Alpha. He has a temporary job at the Silverado, and when he earns enough for a bus ticket, he’ll be on his way. When his boss tries to seduce him, Jack steps in to play the white knight. A new lover is the last thing on Dakota’s mind. He knows it's time to move on, but his plan backfires when the dark stranger follows him. Jack is on Dakota’s trail, but it’s a path that just might get him killed.
A Siren Erotic Romance

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Story Excerpt

The winking neon lights and the smell of human testosterone lifted Jack’s spirits with promises of good times ahead. A delicious thrill of anticipation coursed through his body. Not knowing who stood on the other side of the door gave the hunt an added edge of excitement. A major letdown sometimes followed the pleasurable expectation of finding what he wanted, but tonight he had high hopes for success. Besides, he’d rather be on the prowl than sitting at home jerking off.
Boredom had brought him to the Silverado Saloon, boredom and loneliness, two things that could get a wolf into big trouble. His frustration level, now at an all-time high, had him itching to fuck or fight. He’d prefer the former, but he’d settle for either one.
A slow-moving crowd entered the honky-tonk, and Jack followed the partygoers, letting his nose search for that special someone. Perfume, scented shampoos, and deodorant blended with human pheromones to tickle his olfactory receptors, but no one stood out. He wouldn’t let it discourage him. The night is young.
He knew the staff was friendly and polite, but the big beefy bouncer at the door was downright chummy, holding Jack’s hand a beat too long when he checked his ID. The man’s steroid-bulked body might appeal to some, but it wasn’t his type. He offered the doorman a noncommittal smile and made his way inside.
The racket didn’t bother him in the least. On the contrary, his sensitive eardrums reveled in the din. Instead of lowering the tuner in his brain to make the noise level more manageable for his ears, he raised the volume so he could hear the sounds of glasses clinking, and the thump of mugs on the bar, as well as the loud country music coming from the bandstand. More than alcohol, he thirsted for the sounds of humans talking and laughing, and drunks slurring their words. Even the announcements coming over the loudspeaker were a welcome change from the dead quiet of home.
The old barn itself was a lot more interesting inside than out. Exposed rafters created a rustic cathedral effect in the center, and the lofty, angular space made the gargantuan room look that much bigger. Rustic barn wood paneling was festooned with western and American Indian artifacts. Whiskey barrel tables surrounded the dance floor and a long, rough-hewn wooden bar lined the back wall. That was where he headed, fighting his way through a sea of humanity. Aware of the admiring glances from the ladies and the resentful glares from the men, he wished it was the other way around.
He knew he looked good, and he’d dressed for success. A white shirt in a simple western design set off his dark tan. Like the others in his pack, he always went commando, less clothes to worry about when shifting. He’d already experienced the agony of getting his foreskin caught in a zipper, so he wore ball-crunchingly tight button-fly Levi's. There was no risk of cock damage, and they had the added benefit of increasing his profile, not that he needed it.
His pack mates limited their exposure to the public and avoided attracting attention, but Jack didn’t mind being looked at. He never denied being vain. If a man had charisma, he should use it to his advantage. And six feet, six inches of toned, hard body could hardly be disguised. Why try? Besides, it was more than thick chestnut hair, amber eyes, and a big package that drew hungry looks from humans on the prowl. It was wolf genes, plain and simple. His pheromones attracted beings of the same species, but his lupine biology gave him a primal, predatory edge that turned human heads as well. He’d used it more than once to get what he wanted.
He squeezed himself onto the only vacant barstool, and the doe-eyed bartender honed in on him, giving him a big smile. A knockout in her early thirties, clad in skintight low-ride jeans and a bikini top, she had long, wavy brown hair and a tattoo on her left arm.
“What’ll you have?” she asked him, in a way that signified he could have just about anything he wanted.
If he wanted pussy, he could have stayed home and fucked one of the she-wolves, but he hadn’t touched any of the women since the Alpha stopped forcing the pack mates to breed. He knew they wouldn’t turn him down, but he preferred the back door to the front and a big, beautiful cock and balls beat double-Ds any day. Just to be nice, he smiled back at the brunette and ordered a beer.

Adult Excerpt

Jack’s big hands on his dick felt so damn good. He was trying to thrust into Jack’s fist and at the same time trying not to because he knew he was on the edge of coming. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his skin flushed hot. His balls drew up, and he wanted to beg Jack for more, but he didn’t feel he had the right to ask for anything. Jack stopped suddenly, and Dakota cried out with frustration.
Jack was talking, but Dakota didn’t hear a word. His dick throbbed, and his brain was mush. “Please, please…”
Jack leaned over him, a hand on either side of his head. “Please what, baby? Tell me what you want.”
He couldn’t get the words out. Never in his life had he asked for what he wanted. Moaning, he looked up at the dark Lycan. The man was really gorgeous. What is he doing with me? He turned his head away, trying to tamp down his arousal.
A wet tongue flicked over his nipple, and he inhaled sharply at the contact. Jack licked, sucked, and moved on to the next one. Dakota arched against Jack’s mouth, and his breath quickened. No one had ever done this to him before, and his muscles twitched under Jack’s attention.
Jack raised his head and smiled. “I like to hear you moan. I like knowing I’m the one causing it.”
Dakota looked up, confused. Was I moaning? He hadn’t even realized.
“Tell me what you want, what you like.”
Dakota bit his lip and looked up helplessly.
“Guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.”
Dakota didn’t have time to consider his words. The big Lycan shifted position and wrapped his lips around the head of Dakota’s cock, tonguing the slit. Dakota jerked and let out a sharp cry. Wet heat enveloped his shaft as Jack swallowed his length, and his eyes rolled back in his head. All too soon that devouring mouth drew back along his rod and released him.
Jack looked up at him, grinning. “Like that, do you?”
Dakota nodded his head. No point denying it. He was hard as a rock and visibly throbbing.
“If you want more, you gotta say so.”
“Yes,” he hissed.
“Good, me, too.” Jack’s fingers circled Dakota’s cock as he bent his head and rubbed his stubbled jaw along the sensitive skin. Then his long, wet tongue soothed the irritation.
Everything Jack did sent sparks of electricity shooting through his body. Dakota writhed, wishing he had the courage to tell Jack to suck his cock—hard. Somehow Jack seemed to instinctively know what he wanted because he parted his lips and took Dakota inside the fierce heat of his mouth. Fireworks exploded when Jack increased his suction, and Dakota fought a losing battle against thrusting between Jack’s lips. Each suck at his dick tugged at his heartstrings, and he worried that he was reading too much into Jack’s actions. It was only sex. Wasn’t it? Maybe it was for Jack, but Dakota wished it could be so much more. Stop tasting clouds, Dakota. You’re always dreaming about things that can never be.
A hand reached under his ass and traced the crease. His toes curled as a finger teased his hole before pushing past the muscle and penetrating his tight passage. When the tip massaged his prostate, his balls went tight, and he let out a hoarse cry. He yanked on Jack’s hair, trying to warn him that his orgasm was coming, but Jack paid him no mind, increasing his suction and fucking him with his finger.



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Wednesday, September 20, 2017

New Release! GORGON'S VENGEANCE by Ravenna Tate #EroticRomance @EvernightPub










GORGON'S VENGEANCE
Demons On Wheels MC 2


***Click HERE to purchase
directly from Evernight Publishing***

BLURB

Chloe Dolan’s life is perfect. She’s the MC President’s old lady, she loves to dance at Scotty’s Place—the strip club the MC owns and operates, and she and Gorgon are deeply in love. But Chloe’s perfect life falls apart one night after her last set when she spots her abusive ex-boyfriend, Brad, in the crowd. He’s been gone a year, but now it appears he’s back to stay.

As Gorgon and the MC Brothers deal with the fallout from a turf war, they have their hands full from the Outlaw Dogs MC. In the meantime, Brad is stalking Chloe. He’s sending notes to the club, and every time Chloe goes into town, she spots him. Eventually, Chloe is reduced to hiding inside the club.

When the power goes out during a tornado warning, Brad breaks into the club. Can Gorgon save the only woman he’s ever loved?

EXCERPT

Chloe never ceased to be amazed that she could become so aroused, so quickly, whenever Gorgon was near her. All he had to do was look into her eyes, or call her “Chloe” instead of her stage name.

His dark eyes bored into hers, filled with lust and love. Chloe licked her lips and brushed one hand down his back, over his ass, and around the front of his jeans to massage his bulge through the fabric. “I don’t want to think about scary things anymore tonight.”

Gorgon grunted, cupped her face, and bent his head for a rough kiss. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, chasing away the demons in her mind. Gone were the horrible memories of what Brad had put her through, and the shock of seeing him tonight. Instead, Chloe let go and welcomed the heady sensation of being taken by the man she loved.

He moved his mouth to her neck, planting tiny bites there. “Get your clothes off, baby. I need to fuck you now.”

Chloe peeled off her tank top and shorts, tossing them across the room. He grasped her breasts and squeezed them together in his strong hands. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

It had taken her weeks after arriving here to stop trembling in his presence. His dark hair, so soft to the touch, hung down to his shoulders when he didn’t have it tied back. The hairstyle gave him an unruly, lawless appearance that had both excited and frightened her at first.

“I’m gonna explode, baby. On your knees. Take out my dick.”

Her pussy was soaking wet. She loved it when Gorgon spoke to her this way, because she knew how much he loved her. It wasn’t rude or abusive in her mind. This was just his way. He’d lie down in front of a train for her. When he commanded her like this, it turned her on something fierce because there was love and devotion behind it, not fear or oppression.

Chloe dropped to her knees and rubbed her chin over his bulge, teasing him. He grabbed her hair and tugged, hard. “Chloe, dammit … I’m fucking dying here.”

She undid the button on his jeans and pulled down the zipper. He never wore underwear, so she took care not to catch anything as she eased the jeans down his rock-hard thighs. His cock was red, swollen, and already slick with pre-cum. “You’ve missed me, Billy, haven’t you?”

“Baby, I always miss you. Suck me hard. Swallow my cum.”

Chloe slid her tongue up and down the shaft, enjoying the contrast between the veins and the satiny skin. Gorgon moaned loudly, tugging on her hair to move her closer. “Come on, baby. Don’t tease me. You know what I want.”

She knew, but the power it gave her to hold back was as much of a rush as the actual act. Chloe licked his balls before swirling her tongue over his shaft again. When she finally took him into her mouth, he groaned loudly and pushed his dick all the way inside.

After relaxing her throat muscles, she curled her lips around her teeth and let him fuck her with the entire length. Chloe massaged his balls with one hand and teased the soft skin between his sac and upper thighs with the other. She always gave her man what he liked.

Her hair hurt from him pulling on it so hard, and her mouth was sore, but she didn’t mind. This domination was what she loved. Because when it was over, he’d hold her all night and caress her skin, telling her over and over how beautiful she was, and how much he loved her. Things he’d never say unless they were alone. Words he spoke only to her, intimacies shared only between them.




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Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Out Now! Grizzly Affair by Dulce Dennison #Gay #Paranormal @ChangelingPress



Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Suspense, Interracial, Men in Uniform, Gay
Length: Novella

With a rogue shifter on the loose leaving a trail of bodies, it isn't the best time for bear shifter, Roarke Hilliard to have his heat cycle. Especially since he's the lead Special Agent on the case. But nature must take its course. When his partner, agent Spencer Malloy, places himself in Roarke's path during his greatest time of need, the bear is worried he might break the human. But Spencer wants Roarke badly... bad enough to call in a paranormal escort.

Grigore Gabor may be a male escort, but he's never slept with any of his clients... until now. The moment the wolf shifter gets a whiff of the bear who hired him, and his human companion, he knows he's found his mates. But getting the surly ursa to agree is another matter.

With a killer on the loose, now isn't the time for finding true love. With Roarke handicapped by his heat cycle, there's only so much the agents can do against the rogue shifter. They can only hope to bring the man to justice before another body is found.

Available 9/15 at Changeling Press
Available 9/22 at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, Kobo











Excerpt

Special Agent Roarke Hilliard, Bureau of Paranormal Affairs, scented the air as he scanned the crime scene for clues. Darkness filled him, narrowing his world to this one moment. Blood soaked through his pants and coated his hands as he knelt beside the too still, mangled body. The copper tang of the teen's blood teased his nostrils. His nose flared as he searched for other scents. Gunpowder residue and the stale smell of sweat hung heavy in the air.
A gun was clutched in the young man's hand, his fingers gripping it even in death, and yet the weapon hadn't been able to save him. Slashed across his sternum, the killer's claws had dug deep, all the way to the bone. His clothes were torn in other areas. His belt had been partially torn from him. The clues were adding up to a terrifying, grisly picture.
This wasn't the first victim, and if Roarke couldn't catch the bastard responsible, it wouldn't be the last. Up to this point, the killer had targeted male prostitutes. But this one was different. There were no indications of drug use, no condoms in the victim's wallet. Was the killer branching out? Or were his tastes changing?
"This is definitely our guy," Agent Spencer Malloy said as he surveyed the scene. "If we don't catch him soon, we'll be on every channel in the country. You know how much the Bureau hates bad publicity."
Roarke stood. "There has to be a pattern. The first known victim was in Chicago. The second was in South Bend, Indiana. But now, victim number five is in Atlanta. Where is he going?"
"I still say they aren't planned. I think our guy is picking up young men, then he gets frustrated when they won't give him what he wants and he kills them."
"They're prostitutes living on the streets. There isn't much they won't do for the right amount," Roarke reasoned.
"What's that super sniffer of yours telling you?"
"I don't smell semen. I don't think he got very far before he killed this one. Maybe that was his motivation. Either he couldn't get it up, or the victim resisted." Although he could be wrong. Roarke wasn't about to admit it to anyone, but during his heat cycle his nose was not the most reliable. It took every effort not to turn bear the closer the time got.
Spencer ran a hand through his short, blond hair. "I don't like this. Rogue shifters are one thing, but one bent on murder?"
"The lab ran the sample three times," Roarke reminded him. "No match was found in the system, but the DNA suggested a hybrid."
"Which explains the instability," Spencer muttered. "He obviously has impulse control issues. My gut says there are more murders. Unless some switch flipped in this guy's head, there's no way his first murder was last month. Not unless he was just turned, and what's the likelihood of a just-turned hybrid?"
Roarke sighed. "I'm afraid I have to agree with you. We need to have records run a search on all unsolved shifter related homicides nationwide for the past five years, see if anything pops up that matches our guy's MO."
"I'll call it in while you check out the rest of the scene. Maybe we missed something on the first walk through. Then you're going to the hotel for a shower and a change of clothes."
Roarke nodded and looked around again. He began a slow circuit of the space, sniffing for something he might have missed as his gaze touched on every square inch of the room. He knew from experience they wouldn't find anything new. Fingerprints and DNA did them no good when the killer wasn't in the system. According to the shifter laws of 2023, formed when shifters came out of hiding, all shapeshifters were required to have DNA and fingerprints on file with the government. Those who didn't comply were termed "rogue" and would be put to death if they were found to have committed a heinous crime. If you weren't registered, you didn't have rights.
Spencer motioned to him from the doorway and Roarke stepped out into the sunshine. With the smell of death and decay surrounding him, he'd forgotten how beautiful it was outside. Spring was in the air, which spelled trouble for a bear on a never-ending job. The urge to mate would hit him hard and Roarke would be powerless to stop it. Last mating season, he'd damn near lost his job when he'd holed up in a motel room for three days with a willing male from a shifter run escort service... he might do well to keep their number handy.
"I passed on our thoughts about there being more murders and Rawlins said he would put a team on it." Spencer began walking toward their SUV. "He asked why the hell we couldn't have thought of that weeks ago. I told him we were too busy chasing a trail of mangled bodies. Pompous ass."
Roarke grinned.
"I say we go get you cleaned up and grab a bite to eat. We missed lunch and I know that beast inside of you has to be starving." Spencer held out his hand. "Keys."
Roarke pulled them from his pocket and handed them over. He climbed into the passenger's seat and patiently waited for Spencer to get in and start the vehicle.
"Speaking of my beast, there's something you should know," Roarke said as they pulled out of the parking lot. "My mating heat is going to hit soon. Since I don't have a mate, my bear is going to seek the first willing male available. It's going to possibly put me out of commission for a few days."
"So we take a break."
Roarke shook his head. "The mating fever is going to hit our killer grizzly too. It means more murders if he can't find someone willing and able to handle the frenzy. Think double or even triple the body count we have now."
"Fuck. We have to catch this guy!" Spencer slammed his hand against the steering wheel.


About Dulce

With an overactive imagination and a penchant for making up stories, was it any wonder Dulce Dennison decided to be an author? From cowboys to shapeshifters, she has a story for them all, but her passion lies in writing m/m romances. Dulce believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.
Married since 2000 to a man she isn’t sure is quite human, her husband and children (which she fondly calls the demon spawn) keep her busy, but never too busy to write. Is there such a thing as too busy to write? Most mornings you can find Dulce set up with her laptop, a cat curled up next to her, and a steaming cup of coffee just an arm’s reach away.

Dulce loves to hear from her readers! You can find her on Facebook or Twitter. If you'd like to hear more about new releases from Dulce, please sign up for her newsletter.


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