Showing posts with label Shifter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shifter. Show all posts

Monday, July 27, 2026

EMPATHIC EQUATION by Emily Carrington #LGBTQ+ #ShifterRomance @ChangelingPress




LGBTQ+ Shifter Romance

Date Published: July 31, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

 


Nootaikok is losing himself to his empathy. Can Amaruq call him back to love and to bed?

 

There’s a terrible loneliness in being surrounded by a million minds, none of which care a whit about you. With his empathic skills expanding rapidly, Nootaikok is struggling to hold onto his sanity. Only joining with Amaruq in bed play is sustaining him.

Both of them know bed play won’t save them forever. As the weight of Nootaikok’s psychic disability pushes down on him, he and Amaruq start fighting both each other and the world.

Can their love hold them together or will Nootaikok’s deception crush them?

 


EXCERPT

 

He couldn’t just hear the couple arguing in the hotel room next to the one where he lay with his mate. For Nootaikok, their anger, petty as it might seem to some, was real for them. He wasn’t quite sure what they had disagreed on. He wasn’t a telepath. However, as the hour crept on from nine to ten, their bickering increased in intensity even as their volume dropped. He read violence in the woman half of the pair’s building rage. Whoever said females were always the victims had their facts wrong.

He got silently out of bed, checking to make sure Amaruq had stayed asleep. His lover, exhausted from the psychic deluge he’d experienced over the last half dozen hours, probably wouldn’t wake if he was quiet.

Scooping up his tracker badge, which would show as police or hotel security or whatever he needed at the moment to humans, he dressed in cast-off clothing that he’d worn to SearchLight that day. Not bothering with shoes, he padded silently from the room.

The ebb and flow of their argument was cresting when he pounded on the door.

He felt their startlement and felt the relief from the male half of the pair.

She was the one who opened the door, though. “What?” she snapped.

He took in the belt clenched in her fist and the stench of alcohol on her breath. He held up his badge. “Security, ma’am,” he said. “Report was of some disturbing noises coming from this room.”

She snarled soundlessly at him, furious as a caged werewolf. “Go ‘way.”

“I can’t, ma’am.” He darted a glance over her shoulder as the man, who looked none too sober himself, drunk-walked a little closer to them. “Sir, are you hurt?”

“What’d you think I’d do? Drug him?” the woman demanded baldly.

Nootaikok felt the spike in her anxiety and met her gaze. “What did you give him?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Prove it.”

He wished he’d brought his cell phone. “I intend to.” He marched into the room, shouldering her aside almost gently. Her drunken state made her maybe more compliant than she would have normally been. Keeping an eye on the two of them, he called down to the main desk and made his report. That done, he ordered the two of them to stand out in the hallway until help could arrive.

She swung at him with the buckle end of the belt.

He caught it, the sting of the metal making him hiss. He jerked the makeshift weapon out of her hand and caught her, preventing her from falling when she staggered into him rather than let go willingly.

By the time security had arrived, he’d gotten them both to lean against the walls on either side of the corridor. The man was slumping there and the woman was glaring at him, her face alternating between fear and fury.

After they had been escorted away, he snuck back to bed. It was going to be difficult to sleep, even though the couple was gone. His empathy was fully awake now, and he could sense probably half the occupants of the hotel.

Amaruq rolled over, his eyes slitting open. “Still awake?” he mumbled.

“I’m all right,” Nootaikok lied.

His little white fib, meant only to send his lover back to sleep, backfired as Amaruq frowned at him.

“Don’t you know better than to lie to a werewolf?”

“Sorry,” Nootaikok said, meaning it. “I just…”

“Do you need me to massage your shoulders again?”

“Maybe you could just rub my back for a minute or two?” Amaruq’s touch usually helped him rest. It wasn’t magic but Amaruq’s gentleness came through in everything he did. It was difficult to dwell on all the emotions he couldn’t fix or completely understand while his mate caressed him.

That being said, what he felt still tried to invade his mind. He shoved it away over and over again until Amaruq’s fingers, digging deep, released his tension and he slept.

* * *

When Amaruq woke fully, it was morning and the clock on the nightstand told him it was a little after seven. He couldn’t believe he’d slept so long, not with Mark and Luke in peril. Still, as the guilt rose up to choke him, he forced himself to take a breath. He was managing it, he told himself, and even if he wasn’t, there was nothing to be gained from drowning in negativity.

Besides, he’d come back to the waking world with a sense of urgency and a hunch that something was about to change. He didn’t know what that meant exactly, but it definitely came from his precognitive sense, and he refused to ignore that part of himself any longer.

He rolled over to face Nootaikok, startled to find his lover huddled under the blankets. Narwhal shifters, at least from what Nootaikok had told him, were warm blooded and tended to struggle with getting overheated. His mate looked as though he was freezing. Or trying to hide.

Amaruq settled on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He wanted to reach out to Mark and get a better sense of the dragon’s location. He thought, I’ll ask him why it’s me he decided to reach out to once he and Luke are safe. For now… He dropped his shields.

Nootaikok seized his arm. “Don’t,” he mumbled.

Startled, Amaruq jumped and tried for something passing calmness. He knew he didn’t succeed because when Nootaikok opened his eyes, they were bright with anxiety. “What’s wrong?” Amaruq asked.

“Too many…” Nootaikok visibly stiffened and seemed to pull himself together. “I don’t want you reaching out to whoever’s sending you visions without medical assistance nearby.”

Amaruq nodded, his head moving on the pillow as he turned his face toward his lover. Nootaikok was still bundled up. Frowning, Amaruq said, “That’s a good point. I’ll wait until we’re at SearchLight. Now, what’s really wrong?”

 

About the Author

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

 

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today



RABT Book Tours & PR

Wednesday, March 25, 2026

Para Schooled by Emily Carrington #BoxSet #LGBTQ+ #ShifterRomance @ChangelingPress




LGBTQ+ Shifter Romance

Date Published: March 27, 2026



In every relationship, there’s always a choice. Choosing wrong may cost these heroes everything.

 

Werewolf’s Choice (Para Schooled 1)
Werewolf society has little tolerance for a lone wolf like Don, a man with a complicated past. It’s hard for him to learn to trust, yet pack life calls to his wolf nature. When two basilisks offer a chance at romance, Don refuses to accept anything more than a physical relationship. Will his stubbornness get him and his new partners killed?

 

Dark’s Lover (Para Schooled 2)
When Blagden, a Night Wanderer-Singer, meets Caleb, he is drawn to the Grand Fae’s struggle to accept his new life. Caleb’s son is blind and the Grand Fae have cast out all disabled children. But Blagden has a terrible secret. He inadvertently steals energy from those he loves. When SearchLight is attacked, Blagden must choose between the Fae he loves and his resolve never to steal energy again.

 

Kaito’s Silence (Para Schooled 3)
Kaito has always been attracted to werewolves of the opposite gender -- until he meets his new sign language tutor, a flamboyant wolf named Stefan. As Kaito struggles with his own sexuality, Stefan starts to feel like an experiment. Can their love thrive or will Kaito’s indecision push them apart?




EXCERPT

from Werewolf's Choice


For Don Sanderson, disabled werewolf, life couldn’t have been better.

He was three thousand miles from the pushy alpha werewolves of Washington, DC. He was starting a new job. And life was just great in general. He’d always wanted to travel and thought he’d never get the chance.

Mostly because of his wheelchair.

But here he was, rolling across the parking lot toward the carefully concealed entrance to the SearchLight Academy campus in California. It was early March and the whole of Death Valley was awash in wildflowers. The perfume in the air was glorious and he’d never felt so glad to be alive.

Well, all right, that was laying it on a bit thick. He recognized his desire, as a therapist, to be healthy and positive in his daily thoughts. This wasn’t perfect because Timothy wasn’t with him. Timothy, damn him, was gone.

Don paused to survey the flowers that crowded right up to the edge of the parking lot. He smiled. Come May or June, there wouldn’t be any flowers. The heat baking off the pavement could fry an egg. Or maybe even melt his tires. But for now, he was content to park outside instead of in the garage. He’d never thought to see Death Valley and get to celebrate its beauty.

Hell, he’d often thought he’d be under the flowers instead of surveying them. Werewolf culture had little tolerance for a lone wolf, and yet they didn’t want him to be part of a pack either. Disabled in more ways than one, he wasn’t desirable. Yet, they couldn’t just leave him be because “lone wolves are dangerous, ravenous beasts and separated from society, they often go insane.”

He’d been raised on that truth, but he wasn’t insane. He had a pack, of sorts. He had SearchLight. It wasn’t the same, and he knew it. Being in a wolf pack, surrounded by your kind, was like being given a drink of water after days of thirst. There was something that called to a wolf’s soul when it came to pack living. But Don had been nicknamed. His full name was Donald. Nicknaming was disrespectful, and he’d been ostracized. No one wanted him.

Well, maybe dead, they wanted him. But only SearchLight could use his talents as he was now: a therapist capable of helping others heal.

He entered the hidden passage, taking the gentle slope down toward the heart of SearchLight’s new campus for students of all ages. There had originally been only one SearchLight campus, in Washington, DC. Now there was this second campus, in the Mojave Desert, shielded from humans and dangerous magical creatures alike.

He traveled through the whispering silence and smiled when the almost creepy stillness was broken by laughter. This place was so new everything practically squeaked. There weren’t any security officers here, not until June, and only some of the professors had reported. He was supplemental staff, and technically he didn’t have to be here until April first, but he’d been so very glad to get out of DC…

There was housing here, as there wasn’t in the nation’s capital. Being all underground and far from usual human habitation, it was easier to have apartments here than in the Panamint Mountains, which were relatively nearby. Soon, Don would be hiding his car inside because he wouldn’t be going anywhere. But today was his first day and he’d longed to be outside with the fifty other cars.

They were hidden from standard human perception by leprechauns magic and other concealment spells, but right now, the parking lot was simply another place for anyone to leave their vehicle because the whole national park was open to visitors. Hiding in plain sight was SearchLight’s favorite trick.

It was still early, barely eight o’clock. He wheeled his way down to the cafeteria, following the signs, and thinking that he’d love to have breakfast in his own apartment. Even well-prepared food, when it was mass-produced, tasted nothing like home cooking.

When he was finally in the cafeteria, he balanced a tray on his lap and rolled through the line. He was aware of people looking at him but that was okay. His right leg ended just below his knee. It was normal for people to steal little glances in his direction. He had two psychic senses even though most LGBTQ werewolves only had one. He could always tell when he was being watched, particularly with negative intent, and he was a telekinetic. He could have rolled along with the tray floating an inch or two off his lap, but why show off? He drew plenty of attention without that.

Reaching a table that was specially designed to allow a wheelchair to roll underneath, he smiled. He was one of two wheelchair-bound staff, and there might be students coming in with similar disabilities. Since Dr. Sowerby’s decree, two years gone, that all SearchLight Academy buildings must be ADA compliant, more and more disabled magical creatures had flocked to the school designed for, and catering to, magical creatures.

“Do you mind if we join you?”

He glanced up as he set his tray on the table. It was a female who had spoken, a female basilisk, and he rapidly searched through the list of names he kept in his head. He didn’t know all of the faculty at the SearchLight Academy back East, but he thought… “Ms. Vaughn?”

She blinked beautiful golden-brown eyes at him. “We’ve never met. How do you know my name?”

“I’ve had students mention your classes.”

“That’s impossible,” she returned as she and the male basilisk with her sat down. “I’m not a teacher yet. This fall will be my first term.”

Confused, he ventured, “Aren’t you the languages expert, Ms. Susan Vaughn?”

Her companion chuckled. “Now I understand,” he said. “No, Susan is my sister. I’m Xavier Vaughn and this is my wife, Cassidy.” He briefly touched a light chain around his neck when he spoke.

Cassidy Vaughn smiled at her husband. Then she returned her attention to Don. “And you are?”

He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to share his name but because he didn’t know how they would react to his nickname. He’d been known as “Don, the psychic wolf.” He’d been called deformed, not just because of his leg but because of his other disability and his status as a bisexual wolf.

“You’re the therapist, I think,” Xavier said. “I’ve seen you around the DC campus a couple of times.” He seemed to want to give Don a little more time because he continued. “I was filling in for Professor Boyle last fall when he took off time to write a book.”

“You were teaching parapsychology?” Don frowned slightly. “I’m sorry -- if I should remember you, I don’t.”

Xavier chuckled. “I have a way of fading into the background. It’s one of my psychic talents.”

Cassidy leaned forward and took a sip of her coffee. “What’s your name?”

Oh, to hell with it. Damned be all the stereotypes that went with a werewolf being given a nickname instead of his full born-with identifier. “I’m Don Sanderson. You’re right, I’m the head therapist here in Death Valley. I used to work off campus at the Healing House where attack victims and bullies alike were sent to recover and change their ways. I’ve only visited the campus twice…” Then he realized where Xavier might have seen him. “I gave a lecture on bullying behavior to all the professors and staff last fall.”

“That must be where I saw you.”

Something in Xavier’s reply made Don raise his eyebrows. But the male basilisk didn’t respond to the questioning look.

Cassidy was toying with a little key on a bracelet. She had a pleased smile on her face. Don turned his questioning look on her.

“Nothing,” she answered his glance. But she took Xavier’s hand and smiled at her husband as if they had a secret.

A rush of jealousy rushed through Don in that moment. He wanted so badly to be looked at in that way, where he held enigmas with a lover. He wished briefly that these two beautiful people were looking for a third...

 

About the Author

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

 

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

 

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

Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15

 

Pre-Order Today


RABT Book Tours & PR

Tuesday, January 30, 2024

GRIMDARKE by AK Nevermore #Shifter #Romance @changelingpress


Maw of Mayhem MC, Book 1

 

Shifter Romance

Date to be Published: February 2, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press


 

Out of options and on the run after her psychotic father’s released from prison, Kit Parson heads to the only place she might be safe from him, the Maw of Mayhem MC. The unexpected move buys her time, but also puts her at risk. Surrounded by shifters, her inner cat begs to be released, and after witnessing a brutal attack on her mother as a child, she refuses to let the monster out. Totally doable, provided no bodily fluids are ever exchanged.

That takes the MC’s hot-as-hell VP, Grimdarke James, officially off the table. Mourning the recent murder of the club’s alpha and struggling to control his inner cat, the tattooed Viking god is on thin ice. If he goes feral again, he’ll be put down. Which makes his cat’s insistence that Kit belongs to him problematic, upsetting the delicate balance of the MC’s internal politics, and the woman blackmailing Grim.

But when Kit’s father catches up with her, Grim has no choice but to trust his cat, and Kit can’t deny their chemistry. Can they hold on to each other when everything is trying to tear them apart? After a gruesome triple murder propels them deeper into the paranormal world, they find themselves with unlikely allies, even as their enemies threaten to destroy everything they hold dear.


Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 AK Nevermore

 

Upstate New York in the fall was beautiful, and it made Kit want to puke.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter, her sweaty palms slicking the leather, and glanced in her rearview, then at her phone’s GPS. No service -- again. Damn it. This was not where she wanted to be…

Wait. Signs for a trailhead were coming up. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. She pulled onto the shoulder, staring blankly at the plexi-covered map tacked onto the tiny shelter in front of the car. Woodbine Swamp Trail. Shit. She’d missed the turn-off for the house. Ugh! How could everything in this shit town look the same and so frickin’ different all at once?!

Fifteen years will do that, genius.

Her forehead dropped to the steering wheel, bumping it thrice. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t --

Goddamnit, girl, grow a pair!

Enough. Wasn’t like she had a choice. She pushed back in her seat and slapped the car in reverse, hoping like hell there wasn’t anything behind her. Frickin’ hatchback was stuffed to the gills with the sad remains of her life, and she wasn’t up for losing any more of it.

Kit dashed away a tear. And whose fault was that?

She just had to blow shit up. Couldn’t duck her head and keep punching numbers, because lay low was too big of a fucking ask. Nope, fuck overtime at the accounting firm, had to go out there and twerk her ass at the club, knowing full well that milkshake wasn’t gonna bring anything but trouble to her yard.

Her mind leapt to that tall drink of golden Viking god pissing in a sink, covered in tattoos and oozing temptation. Yup. Case in point, and as much as it shocked the shit out of her, she’d been into him.

So fucking into him, like, wanted him into her.

Not happening.

She bit at a cuticle, trying to ignore the very real possibility she was about to deliver herself to his doorstep, and the fact that her panties had just soaked clean through.

Son of a -- Chanté would quip something about chickens coming home to roost, but they weren’t even Kit’s damned chickens. And why the fuck chickens? Woman was NYC born and raised, you’d think she’d have useless witticisms about pigeons.

Damn, though. He was fiiine…

Stop it.

You’d think she’d be more concerned about the shifter shadowing her for the past two weeks… the one whose face starred in her nightmares. Reaper hadn’t approached her, but his message was clear, and like a fucking cat, he’d been playing with her.

… Run, little mouse…

Kit’s teeth clenched at the memory of her father’s gravelly twang. She put the car in gear and kept driving in the wrong direction. Away from the house, toward the last damned place she wanted to go, and the only place she had left. Two weeks of couch surfing and shitty motels had made that abundantly clear, and her flat fucking broke.

Back to the scene of the crime, the one place she hoped like hell he didn’t have the balls to go back to.

Motorcycles rumbled in the distance and her gut threatened to rebel, cold sweat pebbling her skin. She licked the anxiety from her lips.

The rumble grew, and a moment later a stream of leather and exhaust whipped by her as a convoy of bikes sped past, heading back toward civilization. A manic giggle burbled from her throat, and she took a slow --

Shit! Gas pedal, girl, you gotta keep your shit together…

Focus. Drive to the damned compound. One more mile.

… And keep it together. Hah! Fat fucking chance. She blew out a breath, her temples thudding with the beginnings of a migraine. Goddamn. After all those years of praying to be out from under Claymore James’s thumb… this had not been part of the fantasy.

Getting shit-faced, twerking on his grave, and then setting the MC’s compound on fire, yes. Pulling up to the chain-link gate and asking to see Mud Knuckle?

Nope. Can’t say that’d made the list, but here she was.

I mean really, Mud Knuckle? Kit sighed, rubbing a temple. If she needed any further confirmation her life had officially gone to shit: Ta-frickin’-da.

One of the dopey-looking prospects manning the gate eyed her, pursing his lips. The scraggly little pornstache he was rocking made his mouth look like a porcupine’s asshole.

Moron leaned in her window. “Ain’t no muddy knuckles here.” He snickered, shooting his zit-infested buddy a look.

Kit sighed. Great, they were gonna fuck with he

“Nah,” Zits said, ambling closer to leer. “But I ain’t opposed to rectifyin’ that situation.” He grinned, making a lewd gesture.

Whoo. Ten points for originality there, son. She rolled her eyes and unbuckled her seatbelt. It was showtime. The two high school rejects scrambled back, wide-eyed when she threw open the door and got out, leaving the hoodie she’d permanently borrowed from Chanté on the seat. Fuck, it was hypothermia cold.

“What? I thought we was ‘wreck-t-fyin’ that sits-e-ate-shon,’” she finger quoted, mimicking his dipshit twang and cocking a hip.

Pornstache’s throat bobbed, taking in her tight tee and yoga pants. God, men were pigs. Pathetic, predictable pigs. Flash them braless DDs, and their brains shorted out faster than a hairdryer in a bathtub. Add the fact that her nipples were hard enough to cut glass, and the poor boys didn’t stand a chance.

“Uh, yeah.” Pornstache tugged on his cut and cleared the squeak from his throat. Slack-jawed, Zits smacked his shoulder, earning himself a glare. “I mean, hell yeah. We’re down, baby.”

Kit arched her back, stretching. Damn, that felt good after five hours behind the wheel. Pornstache groaned like he was about to wreck-t-fy in his pants. She sauntered over and ran a finger down his sternum.

“Then how ‘bout you boys open the gate so I can move my car out of the way and get down to business.”

Zits moved so fast he just about face-planted rushing to unlatch the big chain-link section on wheels blocking the compound’s access road. He’d pulled it halfway across the pavement by the time Kit got back into her car. Pornstache shook his head like a dog, blinking as the door clunked shut, and he stumbled over to help his buddy.

Suckers.

Kit almost felt bad as she drove past, waggling her fingers.

Okay, no, she didn’t. She wriggled back into the hoodie, one hand on the wheel and shivering. Her stomach churned as she drove around the last bend to the chapter house, half expecting the entire club to be out there waiting for her. The woods opened up --

And the lot was empty.

Of frickin’ course it was empty. The funeral was today. Now. She could still make it. Wasn’t that why she’d blown out of the city so fast? To spit on Claymore’s grave like she’d told Chanté she was going to? Get some kind of fucked-up closure?

Yeah, has nothing to do with the fact you’re being stalked by a psycho.

Kit bit back a sob, coasting the last few hundred feet to a stop in front of the long, two-storied building. It was ugly. A dark, cinderblock gray, squatting against a barren hillside. She bit her lip, eyes flicking to the last window on the left, waiting for the shitty mini blinds to part.

They didn’t. Wouldn’t.

Dead. Everything looked fucking dead. Probably because it was.

Fuck this shit. She jerked up the emergency brake and killed the engine. Slammed the door open, then shut. Stomped across the half-frozen muddy lot, odd bits of gravel and glass crunching beneath her boots. Eyes fixed on the burnt-out jaws scored into the surface of the MC’s chapter house door, she approached the belly of the beast -- and stepped into the Maw of Mayhem.


 

About the Author

AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.

Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.

She pays the bills editing, wielding a wicked hot pink pen and writing a column on SFF. She also belongs to the Authors Guild, is a chapter treasurer for the RWA, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.

 

Contact Links

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

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Author on Twitter

Follow AK Nevermore at Goodreads


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


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RABT Book Tours & PR

Tuesday, November 14, 2023

Bewitched by the Bear by Jessica Coulter Smith #paranormal #shifter #romance @ChangelingPress

 

A Paranormal Women's Fiction / Shifter Romance Novella

Date to be Published: November 17, 2023

Publisher: Changeling Press


 

 

Discover the power of true love in this spellbinding tale of magic and adventure.

All Amara wants is to live a life of adventure, without being tied down. With the dark fae relentlessly pursuing her, she needs a place to hide. Her gram’s cottage seems like the perfect spot, but the old witch’s words leave Amara unsettled -- What you seek is in Cutter’s Creek.

Alpha bear shifter Hale is determined to safeguard those closest to him. His life takes an unexpected turn when he crosses paths with a captivating witch. Enchanted by her very presence, he’s unable to banish her from his thoughts.

As destiny ties them together, not even the dark fae will destroy their newfound happiness.

Uncover the magic in this fast-paced, insta-love story that’s sure to warm your heart.

 

Publisher’s Note: Bewitched by the Bear is based on the previously published short story Ruby and the Bear. Bewitched has been expanded and is now twice the length of the original story, complete with a new ending and steamier scenes. No cheating and a guaranteed happily ever after!

 


 

 

Excerpt


Lunar Cycle’s dance floor cleared the moment the wolf and the bear began circling one another. Hale Klein watched as his cousin, Duncan Hunt, flexed his claws in his partially shifted wolf state. It took a hell of a lot of anger to hold a partial shift, and Hale figured Duncan had to be running on pure rage. He had to admit, he had it coming. Hale didn’t know what had come over him since losing his father, but something inside him had twisted. He’d taken a lucrative business of being a security consultant and warped it. For years, he’d been a gun for hire, for the right price, regardless of whether he was fighting on the side of good or bad. But as his cousin faced him, fighting for the place of alpha within the pack, he realized perhaps he’d gone too far. His hold, at first, had been tenuous, as the adopted son of the rightful alpha.

This fight wasn’t pointless, exactly, but Hale could think of better things to fight over -- no woman was worth bloodshed. Not that’d he’d wanted Marissa. It was more that Duncan had wanted her, and suddenly she’d become the most attractive of women to Hale. He loved rubbing his cousin’s nose in his alpha status, but this time, he’d overstepped. Even he could admit it to himself at any rate. Tricking Marissa into his bed and then tossing her aside like yesterday’s garbage might not have been the best of plans. In his defense, she’d been eager enough. If she’d truly loved Duncan, she would have never strayed.

Looking back, Hale had to say that he wasn’t proud of himself. As he’d gotten to know Marissa, he’d realized what a sweet girl she was, and she truly hadn’t deserved what Hale had done to her. Even still, her heart hadn’t completely belonged to Duncan. Hale had to wonder if she’d only accepted his cousin because of his status in the pack. Either way, was it really Hale’s fault she’d run away? Duncan seemed to think so.

“Your reign over the Silver Crescent Pack is at an end,” Duncan growled through his shifted snout. “It’s time for justice to come to our lands.”

And you think you’re the wolf for the job? Hale taunted telepathically. No one had been able to beat him in the seventy years he’d been on this earth -- what wolf could beat a bear? -- and definitely not in the twenty years he’d held the position of alpha. What made his cousin think today would be any different?

“It’s time for a wolf to rule the wolves.” Duncan snapped his jaws.

Bring it!

Duncan lunged at him, arms opening wide, claws brandished like the weapons they were. Hale was bulky in his current form, but he also had power the wolf couldn’t hope to match. Rising to his hind feet, Hale towered over his cousin. Swiping out with a paw, he caught Duncan right across the cheek, his claws sliding into the wolf’s skin like butter, leaving three perfect slashes.

The wolf howled in outrage, twisting to come at Hale once more. Before the bear could scramble out of the way, the wolf’s claws embedded in his sides, leaving gouges in his tough hide. Hale snarled and broke free, spinning to immediately launch another attack at his cousin. As his massive bear paws arced through the air, his cousin charged.

Hale braced himself for the impact, claws aimed right for his cousin’s flanks, their razor-sharp points digging into meat and muscle. Duncan howled in outrage again, this time falling to his knees before the bear. Hale didn’t want to kill his cousin. He only wanted to prove a point. Opening his jaws wide, he fitted his mouth around Duncan’s neck, forcing the other shifter to his hands and knees in supplication. Hale growled long and low, not stopping until Duncan whimpered in defeat.

Backing away from his whipped cousin, Hale shifted back to his human form. Towering over the shifter now covered in wounds, Hale flexed his muscles, ignoring the twinge in his sides from his open wounds, and kept his gaze steady as he stared down at Duncan.

“Are we done?” he asked.

Duncan changed back to his fully human form and nodded. “We’re done.”

“I’m sorry Marissa ran away, Duncan, and I’m sorry for taking her from you. But there is no way that woman was your mate. If she was, she wouldn’t have fallen into bed with me so easily. She would have fought to be by your side, not caring whether or not the alpha was interested in her. All she wanted was power, despite her sweet nature. Females are all the same. They want the strongest in the pack, unless they find their true-mate. Then no other male will do.”

“You don’t know that she wasn’t --”

“Yes, I do. And if you think about it, you’ll realize it too. Since you’re worse off than I am, I’ll let you see the healer first. Get your wounds tended and go home.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

Shaking his head in disgust, Hale turned, grabbed his shredded clothes off the floor, and made his way through the crowd and outside the club. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d driven home naked, and he doubted it would be the last. There would always be someone wanting to challenge him, someone thinking they were bigger, tougher. It hurt that his cousin had been the one to instigate a fight with him. They’d fought over the years, but it had always been more like sibling rivalry, not a to-the-death fight over being alpha.

Hale dug his keys out of his pants pocket and slid into the large truck in the parking lot. As the door slammed shut, he tossed his clothing on the passenger’s seat and put his key into the ignition. The engine turned over and he backed out of the space, then pulled out of the lot. He knew he should just head home, to the alpha’s house in town, and call it a night, but he wanted solitude, time to think, time to regroup. Being the alpha meant he had an open-door policy, ensuring his pack could come to him for whatever they needed regardless of the time. Change was coming. He could feel it in the air, and he wasn’t certain if it was the good kind or the bad kind.


About the Author

Jessica Coulter Smith is an acclaimed romance writer with a passion for storytelling. Her works showcase the power of love and its ability to transcend boundaries, capturing the hearts of audiences worldwide. With a unique writing style and perspective, Jessica continues to inspire and entertain readers from all walks of life.


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RABT Book Tours & PR

Tuesday, January 31, 2023

TIME MACHINE 99c SALE @bookstrand ~ JAEGAR #gay #pnr


 

JAEGAR

TIME MACHINE 99c SALE

Buy Link

https://www.bookstrand.com/book/jaegar

Synopsis 

Jaegar Nash is the panty-melting lead singer of Fusion, a rock band that’s on the fast track to fame. His life is a never-ending party filled with booze and adoring groupies, but the only sex he wants is with a man who’s totally off-limits. Jaegar puts on a good show, but the real Jaegar is nothing like the rockstar. He’s gay and he’s a shifter, the product of genetic engineering by a mad scientist who spliced animal DNA into embryos and created hybridized humans. 

Abram Galante is the sexy, Israeli bodyguard who provides security for the band. He's all work and no play, but his attraction to Jaegar is impossible to resist. When he finally makes his move, sparks fly and both men give in to the passion, but they keep their connection a secret. Then Bram rents the beach house of his former employer, Brian Abbot. He plans a private getaway, but he starts a chain of events that leads to Jaegar’s capture.

When the existence of hybrids was exposed to the world, their creator, Dr. Joseph Shepard, fled to Russia. Brian Abbot, CEO of a biotech company in the US entices him back with promises of money and fame. Shepard returns, and with Abbot’s help, kidnaps Jaegar, who he intends to retrain for the military. With the fear of terrorism so widespread, Shepard knows his super soldiers will be in demand.

Bram is gutted when he learns the truth and realizes it’s his fault. Luckily he possesses the skills to put together a successful rescue plan. Bram convinces Jaegar that he did not intentionally set him up and the two men reunite and get their happy ending.

It’s Bram intention to show the world that hybrids are not monsters.