Archive for the ‘Changeling Press’ Category

Menage May: Between Two Wolves by Jessica Coulter Smith

Between Two Wolves (Tales of Moonspell)

By Jessica Coulter Smith

Between2WolvesBrandt Fitzgerald has wondered from time to time when he would find his mate. Imagine his surprise when he finds her — and has to share her with his brother! The boys have been known to share before, but can something on a permanent basis really work?
Falan Wright has lots of curves and a little extra. She’s never really been anyone’s ideal before and now she’s suddenly faced with not one but two hot men ready to be at her beck and call. What’s a woman to do? The concept of mates isn’t unknown to Falan, but is she really ready to tie herself to both Fitzgerald men? Can she really be woman enough for both of them?


Nolen, having undressed while they were in the shower, stood before her in all his naked glory. He came to stand before her and caressed her cheek. She tried to read his expression, but had no idea what he was thinking.
“I heard what you said,” he told her. “And you’re right. I haven’t been as committed as I should’ve been. I wanted you, but I wanted it to be on my terms. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry.”
“What are you saying, Nolen?”
“I’m saying that I may feel things differently than Brandt does, and I may not react the way you want me to, but I want you to know that I do care about you and I’m looking forward to sharing my life with you.”
Falan pulled him closer and kissed him. She felt Brandt behind her, placing his hands on her hips and trailing kisses down her neck and across her shoulders. Nolen gently gripped her arms, holding her to him. When he pulled back, her heart was pounding.
Brandt herded them toward the bed, then lifted her and laid her on the mattress. She looked up at him in wide-eyed wonder, amazed that he’d lifted her with such ease. He’d managed what no other man had before — he’d made her feel small and delicate. She reached for him, tugging him onto the bed, then crooked her finger at Nolen. With her men on either side of her, her body warmed in anticipation. In theory, she knew what happened next, at least, with one man and woman. She was starting to wish she’d read a ménage romance or two. Maybe then she’d be better prepared for this moment.
Nolen nuzzled her neck and cupped one breast. While Brandt latched onto her other nipple, Nolen pinched and rolled her distended nipple; Brandt sucked the other and grazed it with his teeth. She felt liquid drip down her thighs and began to squirm.
Brandt’s hand caressed her belly before slipping between her thighs. He delved between the lips of her pussy, spreading her juices over her clit. He circled and teased the nub until she was writhing under them. He brushed the sensitive area with his thumb and eased two fingers inside of her. Falan gasped and lifted her hips.
She felt hot, like every nerve burned and tingled. Her body was straining toward something, something just out of reach. Nolen claimed her lips while Brandt’s fingers pumped in and out of her. She felt her body tightening just like it had in the shower, and then she was tumbling over the edge.
Brandt slid his fingers from her body and sucked her juices from the digits. She was surprised to discover it turned her on. Nolen moved away from her to lean against the headboard, then he was reaching for her, pulling her back against his chest.
Brandt rolled on a condom then moved over her, spreading her legs. Settling between her thighs, he began easing his cock inside of her, stretching her. When he felt her hymen, he pushed through then stilled, giving her time to adjust. Nolen murmured softly in her ear, telling her how beautiful and sexy she was, how lucky they were to have her. When Brandt began moving inside of her, she found that it didn’t hurt. As he entered her over and over again, she lifted her hips.
Nolen pinched and rolled her nipples as Brandt plunged into her harder and faster. Her body began to burn and as Brandt thrust into her one last time she came. Nolen kissed her next and stroked her body, bringing her down from her high.
She began to shift so she could sit up, but Nolen stopped her.
“Wait a minute, sweetheart. Let Brandt clean you up.”
Sure enough, his brother slipped from her body and rose from the bed, returning a moment later with a warm wet rag. He wiped the blood from her thighs then returned to the bathroom.
“My turn now, sweetheart,” Nolen said. “Unless you’re too sore?”
She shook her head, but she wasn’t sure she’d survive a fourth orgasm. Could she even have another one? Nolen turned and lifted her so she was straddling him. He quickly rolled a condom down his hard shaft and slowly, he lowered her onto his cock. She felt the bed dip and then Brandt’s hands were on her hips.
“I’m going to help you move,” Brandt said softly.
She tipped her head back and rested it on his chest, her hands splayed on Nolen’s chest. She rocked her hips back and forth, loving the feel of Nolen’s hard cock inside of her. Brandt helped her move, creating a delicious friction. Nolen cupped her breasts and played with her nipples. Feeling brave, she reached between her legs and fingered her sensitive clit.
Nolen grinned. “That’s so hot!”
She bit her lip and worked her clit faster. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, she went flying, soaring to heights she’d never dreamed of before. She felt her inner walls clench and release Nolen’s cock, and then he was exploding inside of her.
She slumped over his chest, feeling spent, her limbs like jelly. Brandt and Nolen had surpassed her dreams. Being with them was wonderful.
She felt Brandt move away and a minute later he was back with a fresh rag in his hand. He lifted her from Nolen and cleaned her. When Nolen rose from the bed, Brandt tossed the cloth to him. Pulling Falan into his arms, he cuddled her close.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m wonderful.”
He smiled and kissed her. “Now there can be no doubt you’re ours.”

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Guest Blogger- J.S. Wayne


Even Groomsmen Get The Blues
An awkward wedding. A beautiful woman. A gun-shy groomsman. Does love stand a chance?

Ben Grimm hates weddings just on general principles, and the fact he would have been one of the intendeds if his fiancée hadn’t been sleeping with half of Grove Park isn’t improving his outlook. Ben does his duty as Mike’s groomsman, but once the ceremony’s over Ben’s had enough. Just as he’s trying to decide how soon he can politely leave, Melanie Carson, one of the bridesmaids, comes over and makes Ben an offer he can’t resist.

One-night stands aren’t really Ben’s style, and the sultry redhead who took him to new heights of erotic pleasure quickly assures him she’s not interested in being an angel of the morning. Somewhere along the line, without ever having met him, Melanie decided to offer Ben her heart. Now it’s up to Ben to decide whether the exquisite sex is worth giving another woman a chance to break his heart… or if he’s ready to try to let Melanie heal it.

Chapter One

Being single and lonely sucked even worse when he had to dress up in a monkey suit and dance around acting all happy for his best friend, Ben Grimm reflected. He loved Mike like a brother, but right now he wanted nothing more than to “adjust” Mike’s teal bow tie until he choked the idiotic, I’m-so-in-love grin off the groom’s face.
“Jack and Coke,” he yelled to the bartender over the thudding beat of the music. The bartender nodded and bustled off to take the order of a rowdy crew at the other end. Ben sighed, running a hand through his ash blond hair, and peeked at the clock surreptitiously, wondering how much longer good manners demanded he stay. Being a single guy at a wedding sucked syphilitic goat peckers, Ben ruminated. The few decent-looking women on display were either taken, too young, or eyeballing another potential conquest, which left him out in the cold.
He didn’t begrudge Mike and Lacey their happiness, and he certainly didn’t want to be a cloud on their day. If Veronica hadn’t done what she had, this would have been a double wedding.
Always a bridesmaid, never a bride, he thought sardonically, checking the clock again. His feet ached from standing for most of the day, his lower back was starting to spasm from an overly enthusiastic turn on the dance floor with a cute nine-year-old girl who had a charming lisp and who’d developed the kind of prepubescent crush he just didn’t have the heart to turn down, and he felt the beginnings of a low-grade migraine settling in at the back of his head. He’d have one drink, make his excuses, and get the hell away from all this lovey-dovey bullshit.
“Got a date?” a husky feminine voice murmured in his ear, downy soft lips brushing his sensitive lobe.
He whipped his head to the right ruthlessly enough to wrench his neck and provoke a strangled curse. When he saw the speaker, whiplash tumbled to the bottom of his priorities list. She can’t be… His jaw dropped, and a gibbering voice in his head screamed, Say something, stupid!
“Were you talking to me?” Ben’s mouth felt even drier.
The redhead laughed, exposing the creamy sweep of her throat and rolling her shoulders so the tips of her breasts pressed against the teal satin of her gown. “I thought if I didn’t come talk to you, you were either going to slip out the door or jump out the window.” Her large eyes, the exact shade of her dress, played over him appraisingly. “I’m Melanie.”
He stuck his hand out awkwardly. “Ben.”
She took the offered hand. His cock pressed uncomfortably against his zipper, responding to her heat. Six months of enforced monkitude had done nothing to make his errant manhood behave itself, and Melanie was sexy enough to push every hot button he had just by engaging in basic social contact. For a moment he entertained a fantasy of her spread-eagled on a bed while he took her, and he locked the erotic thought down fast. If he’d been a little quicker, he might have avoided the painful erection the woman before him had triggered.
Melanie pulled away, sliding her gaze south of his cummerbund as if mentally subtracting his tuxedo from the equation.
“You planning to drill through the wall? Or can I suggest a better use for that?”

Another Small Update

Another small update. I’ve requested and received the rights back to my books Hades Helmet Crew: Carnevale and Mating Fever. The latter book was part of the charity antho Firestorm. I’ll be looking over Mating Fever and deciding if I want to lengthen it or re-releasing it as is.

Please bear with me during this process and thank you for all your support. More news to come.

Also, I’ve just signed a contract with Etopia Press for a Halloween Quickie set in the Dragon New Year World. The story is called Dragons at Samhain. I’m so excited.



Small Update

Here I am again with another update. I’ve requested and been granted my Rights back for Hades Helmet Crew 1: At Drogan’s Command and for Dawg Town: Homecoming.

Also, the wonderful Dawn Montgomery, has agreed to do a workshop on the Offerings Loop for How to Use Scrivner for World Building.

Until next time!


A Small Update

First I’m almost done with Dragon Ugly which is about to hit the 60k mark. Now for another update, I’ve requested and been granted the rights back to my book Family Heirlooms: With His Mind. I plan on expanding and deepening the book. I’ll have more updates for you next month. Thank you for your patience as well as your support of that book. 🙂



The Love Hangover Contest

*From Renee George

The Love Hangover Contest

Love-drunk and hungover?
Want to be?
Join Cheryl Dragon, Renee George, Ayla Ruse, and Megan Slayer in celebrating their current and upcoming new releases at Changeling Press!

Including the themes of Menage, Gay, Bisexual, and More!
Sometimes too much is exactly enough.

Prizes include free eBooks, goody bags, $50 in gift credit, and more!

Check us out and enter to win at:


*Permission to Share, FWD, Tweet, Post Granted*

Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Cat Marsters

Cat Marsters—The Original Sinner: Striker

When I first wrote Striker he was going to be a villain, plain and simple. He had one function: to tempt my heroine, Chalia, away from the man she loved. Striker had varous magical powers and he wasn’t above using them to get what he wanted. When he got angry he’d explode things. Like buildings. People. Cities.

I kinda liked him.

And that was the problem. I wanted him to be the bad guy. I even tried to kill him off. But I couldn’t do it. Well, I did, but no one stays dead for long in my books. At the last count, Striker had been declared legally dead three times. He’s still walking around.

But herein lies the rub. I can’t make him a romantic hero. He kills people for fun. He once cut someone in half, vertically, with a sword made out of fire. Got angry and flattened an entire city. He explodes pickpockets. Kills people for looking at him a bit funny. He’s a psychopath. A proper unhinged nutter. He’s a villain. So why do I like him? Why does everyone else?

Well, he’s hot for one thing. A giant walking pheromone. But we’re not that shallow, are we? He’s funny, for sure—he has a very nice line in sarcasm. He can do anything. I mean quite literally, anything. Travel through time (what, like it’s hard?). Kill immortal beings. Being people back to life. Make it snow, just because Chalia says she likes it.

Is that it? Do we like him because he loves his woman? He’ll quite literally do anything for her, up to and including mass homicide (she’s never asked, but he’s waiting for the opportunity). Making it snow is nothing: when she died he brought her back to life. When she decided she wanted a baby, despite the gods attempting to keep him from procreating by making it physically impossible for the only woman he loved to carry a child (okay, so he can’t do everything—cut the guy a break, he’s a homicidal maniac, not a fertility expert) he travelled in time to change the course of history and befuddled the gods out of noticing until the baby was born.

Or do we feel sympathy for the devil? Striker was, after all, once an ordinary person. A very good-looking, smart, rich, and mischeivous person, but with no more inclination to mass murder than you or me. And then a random accident got him stranded in an alien world for twelve years, all alone and with just a few magical powers lent to him in order to survive. Telling himself every day he’d get back to the woman he’d left behind. Thinking of the one and only night they spent together. Pickling in his own madness. By the time he returned he was lean and hard and strange and cold, and he might still have turned into something resembling a human being were it not for the fact that his One True Love had buggered off and got engaged to someone else, and told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him out of her life.

So he flattened a city. As you do.

The thing is, he does love Chalia, but that’s about his only redeeming feature. And it’s not much of one. He loves her selfishly, like a child loves. He doesn’t want to share her. It’s kind of hard to figure out whether he really loves his daughter or not—even I’m not entirely sure if he does, or if he just takes care of her because Chalia wants him to. I wrote about Striker’s relationship with his daughter, Chance, in my first Ellora’s Cave book, Almost Human. She doesn’t know what to make of it, and neither does he.

She knows her father is the most evil man in history. That’s going to give a girl quite a complex.

Excerpt from Mad, Bad & Dangerous, available now ffrom Ellora’s Cave.

Was this how Striker had become so terrible, so powerful and so dangerous? Was this why he’d rampaged through Euskara twenty years ago, murdering Magi and stealing their power, flattening cities, roasting people alive—just to mirror his own pain?
What the hell could have hurt such an inhuman man so badly?
He found himself on the ground, back in his human body, staring at the scryer in his palm. It glowed red then the face resolved into Striker’s visage.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked.
The same shock of fear and disgust ran through Bael, but far less powerfully than it had before. “Why did you do it?” he asked.
“Do what? Who are you?”
“Kett’s— I’m…a friend of Kett’s,” Bael said through the bad taste in his mouth.
“Oh yeah.” Striker’s mouth twisted cruelly. “You ran away.”
“You murdered hundreds of my people.”
Striker shrugged, as if he couldn’t see what the two things had to do with each other.
“Why did you do it? You flattened the city of Vaticano twenty years ago. You stole power and tortured innocent people. Why did you do it?”
Striker shrugged again. “What are you, a groupie? I did it ’cos I wanted to, kid. I enjoyed it. I’d do it again—”
“No, you bloody wouldn’t,” came a female voice, the voice of the brunette at Nuala’s house. Chalia. Chance’s mother…
Understanding stabbed Bael in the heart.
“You did it for her,” he said slowly. “Because she hurt you.” With every word he became more certain, the knowledge creeping into him like fog.
Striker’s face turned to granite.
“Because she did something to you,” Bael went on. “Because she hurt you so badly it screamed inside you, and all you wanted to do was make everyone else feel as much pain as you. To hurt and maim and burn and slash and kill, because that’s what she did to you. And she never stopped you. She stops you now but she didn’t then. And you went on sucking power out of people so you could destroy more and more, bigger and bigger, until you’d destroyed a city and killed thousands—”
A jolt of power suddenly surged through the scryer, like the shock from ungrounded metal, making Bael flinch and lose his thread.
The view on his scryer tilted, as if someone else had taken hold of the device, and Chalia’s face appeared, pale and shocked.
“It was you,” Bael said, and her lovely dark eyes swam with fear and guilt and pain.
“What did you do?” Bael asked her.
Her hand went to her throat, lovely and unlined even twenty years after Striker had burned and destroyed cities in her name.
“I got engaged to someone else,” she said distantly. “Who are you?”
“Baelvar.” The world had narrowed to the scryer in his hand and the anger pulsing through him.
Chalia regarded him through the scryer. “You’re Kett’s mate, yes? The Nasc. With power.”
Bael clenched his fist and looked away.
Striker laughed softly. “What did she do?”
“Someone else,” Bael said.


Cat Marsters lives in Essex and belongs to a pride of adored cats. On occasion she can be persuaded to admit ownership of a demon puppy (but not if you suspect your flowers have been trampled). She enjoys watching TV and films that showcase the looks and talents of Richard Armitage, David Tennant and Hugh Jackman, reading books that make her laugh, dyeing her hair, and talking about herself in the third person.
Cat has been writing all her life, but in order to keep herself rich in shoes and chocolate, she’s also worked as an airline check-in agent, video rental clerk, stationery shop assistant, and laboratory technician. She’s still aiming for the fairytale cottage of her childhood dreams, and asks all potential Prince Charmings to apply in writing with pictures of themselves and their Aston Martins.

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Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Kate Hill

Villain or Hero?

He and the hero oppose each other at every turn. His goal damages the hero and prompts him to take action. Yet is this person who stands in the hero’s way or destroys his happiness evil?

The label villain or hero depends on whose point of view the story is told from. The villain or the antagonist often does terrible things to achieve his goal, yet is that goal any less important than the hero’s? A well developed villain is often as interesting and sympathetic as the hero. If the story were turned around and told from the antagonist’s point of view, the man or woman you see as the “good guy” might not look so noble. Often the villain’s goal means so much to him that he’ll sacrifice anything to reach it. The hero usually shares this obsession, but since we’re exposed to his reasons for wanting to reach his goal, he gains our compassion. We want him to win the fight and stop the “bad guy,” but is he truly bad?

An intriguing villain demands his own story, though unfortunately he doesn‘t always get it. He needs a chance to prove that he’s not purely evil and that he has good reasons for his actions. He might even be as right as the hero. When told from another point of view, a story seems quite different than we originally thought.

As a reader and a writer, I love villains and antiheroes. They have flaws and strengths that make them human–even if they’re paranormal creatures. Usually they’re easier to relate to than a perfect hero.

Villains often share many characteristics with the hero, such as courage, determination, intelligence, and a sense of honor. As they’re opposing the hero, the hero opposes them as well. The hero prevents the villain from reaching a goal that might be quite noble or at least understandable, yet the villain has caused harm to a character we’ve gotten to know intimately. We see the villain at his worst, yet sometimes if we look deeper or if we’re given the chance to see inside him, we’ll learn that he’s more than we first believed.

My most recent villain turned hero is Lao from the world of Blood and Soul. Throughout this particular vampiric world, Lao has made many enemies and is considered a villain by most of the other characters. In Villain Tamed, Lao gets a chance to tell his side of the story and even reconciles with some of the people he has hurt. For me Lao always stood out as a character. I enjoyed writing him and looked forward to revealing more about him and his past.

Monstrous or misguided? Attacker or defender? Is he a villain or is he a hero? It depends on how the story is told.

Excerpt from Villain Tamed:

by Kate Hill

Format(s): Ebook

Heat Level: Erotic

Pairing(s): M/M

Genre/Themes: vampire

Length: Novella

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Art: Zuri

ISBN: 978-1-60521-053-7

Purchase Links:

Related Books or Books Set in the Same Universe: Bloody or Nothing, Blood and Soul, Dangeorus Craving, The Elixir Maidens, Heart’s Blood, The Masters

Related Free Stories: The Halloween Ball


For centuries Lao has battled humankind and in doing so has made many enemies. Injured while fighting the dreaded new reign, he asks for refuge from Sudsy Waters.

The last thing Lao wants is to fall in love with a human, but when he meets Tyler, the doctor at Blood or Nothing, a love ignites that will burn all barriers Lao has built around his heart.

In the final battle with the Evil Master, the future of the world depends on Lao, but can love redeem the man feared almost as much as the devil?

The following excerpt from VILLAIN TAMED is for readers 18 and over.

Lao lifted his gaze to Tyler and remained still, his expression unreadable. The doctor trailed his fingertips down his cheek and brushed a lock of long black hair behind Lao’s ear. He lightly traced a thin yet jagged scar that ran from the bottom of Lao’s ear almost to his chin. It was the only scar on the vampire’s exotic face.

“Where did you get this?” Tyler asked, referring to the scar.

“Trusting a human.”

Tyler snorted. “As if you ever trusted a human.”

“I’ve had my moments.”

Dropping his hand, Tyler said, “I suppose if you got scarred for it, that didn’t give you much incentive to keep trusting us.”

Lao didn’t reply and Tyler tried to guess what the ancient felt, but it was impossible.

Those black eyes studied him with a detached and keenly intelligent look.

“Is it true what they say about you?” Tyler continued.

“They say a lot of things. Which rumor are you referring to?”

“That you don’t Change blood children out of love.”

“Impertinent human.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“And have no doubt deserved it.” Lao rose, but Tyler didn’t back away to give him room. They stood so close their chests almost touched. Tyler’s calm blue eyes stared into his and he moistened those beautiful lips with the tip of his enticing pink tongue.

Remembering the kisses they’d shared, Lao wanted to taste him again.

Accustomed to taking what he wanted, Lao cupped the back of Tyler’s strong neck and covered his mouth in a demanding kiss. The doctor’s scent filled him and he heard the mortal’s heart beat faster. Tyler’s eyes closed and he stepped nearer. Had Lao been human, Tyler might have knocked him onto the bed. Their lean bodies pressed closer, hard chests and steely thighs pushed against each other and their cocks heated.

Tyler groaned, a rough, sexy sound that aroused Lao so much that he growled, a sound of vampire passion. Their tongues thrust against each other, engaging in a wet, sexy battle that both men sought to win.

The doctor tasted so fucking good and Lao wanted more. He wanted Tyler’s blood.

Tyler wrapped his arms around Lao. He caressed his back, removed the clip from Lao’s hair and threaded his fingers through his long locks.

When the kiss broke, even Lao was slightly breathless.

About Kate Hill

What do trips around the world, endless nights of breathtaking sex, and a muscular, 6-foot 3-inch, brown-haired, blue-eyed significant other have to do with Kate Hill? Absolutely nothing, but she can dream, can’t she? In reality Kate is a single vegetarian New Englander who loves writing romantic fantasies.

Currently, she might not be traveling around the world, but Kate has visited Europe and Africa and those beautiful places have been wonderful inspiration for her writing. While working at various times as a clerk, assistant karate instructor, house painter and banker, Kate dreamed of being an author. In 1996 her first short story was accepted for publication and since then she has sold over ninety short stories, novellas and novels.

When she’s not working on her books, Kate enjoys reading, working out, and researching vampires and Viking history. Visit Kate online at

Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Silvia Violet

Captain Mal, The Ultimate Antihero

I love anti-heroes, men who make you question their motives and their morality but always come through in the end as men of honor even if their methods are a bit tarnished. One of my favorite anti-heroes is Captain Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly. Mal fought for the independents because he believed in a world where people could live free of the Alliance’s control. He did his best to care for the men and women who served under him. And later when he becomes captain of the Firefly class ship, Serenity, Mal truly cared about his crew even if he’s didn’t always show it.

Mal doesn’t behave as a traditional hero should. He prefers to shoot first and ask questions later. He takes jobs that put him on the wrong side of the law, content to steal when necessary to support his crew. He kills when he needs to and doesn’t spend time on remorse.

But “Bad” as he may be, Mal protects his crew even when he doesn’t like them personally, and he never leaves a man or woman behind. Once someone is under his protection, he’ll risk his life for them even if he thinks their predicament is their own fault.

Captain Marc Devlin from my Shifter’s Station Collection is a similar type of anti-hero. He served Terra Gov as a special forces officer until they chose to experiment on him and other members of his battalion, turning them into shape-shifting killing machines. A natural leader, he gathered a group of the genetically-altered shifters and helped them escape and form a mercenary company.

But he’s no do-gooder. He’s harsh and controlling, and he isn’t the least bit concerned with the legality of the jobs he takes on. As long as the money’s good and he can support his crew, he’s content. He’ll shoot any man or woman who threatens him or his crew without a second thought. He’s gruff and tough as hell on the men and women who work for him, but he has their loyalty, because they know he’ll do anything to keep them safe.

Captain Devlin is also not above abusing his power when it suits him like when Larissa delivers a faulty shipment of weapons to his station. He and his lover, Commander Kirlos Adesta, determine that she had no part in the sabotage attempt, but Marc wants her in his bed so he refuses to release her, eventually making her a wager he’s confident he’ll win.

Read an excerpt below of the meeting between Marc, Kirlos and Larissa and see if this anti-hero doesn’t make your pulse flutter…..

Coming March 1th to Changeling Press

Silvia Violet writes erotic romance in a variety of genres including sci fi, paranormal, and historical. She can often be found haunting coffee shops looking for the darkest, strongest cup of coffee she can find. Once equipped with the needed fuel, she can happily sit for hours pounding away at her laptop. Silvia typically leaves home disguised as a suburban stay-at-home-mom, and other coffee shop patrons tend to ask her hilarious questions like “Do you write children’s books?” She loves watching the looks on their faces when they learn what she’s actually up to. When not writing, Silvia enjoys baking sinful chocolate treats, exploring new styles of cooking, and reading children’s books to her wickedly smart offspring.

Website: (website redesign coming soon)

Shifter’s Station Collection by Silvia Violet

Years ago, the Terran Government betrayed special forces officer Marc Devlin, forcing him to flee for his life. He rescued several fellow officers and built a new life as the head of his own mercenary force. When he captures a beautiful Cerian diplomat, he thinks to torture the man to learn Cerian secrets. Instead, he finds a lover. Months later, Marc and his Cerian lover, Kirlos, take a young woman captive, fearful she might be an agent of one of Marc’s oldest enemies. The two men strike a bargain with her that lands her in their bed for a month. As they dole out exquisite torment with their Cerian sex table, passion builds and turns to love. But Marc and Kirlos must fight to keep her and the life they’ve made for themselves.

This e-book collection contains the previously released Shifter’s Station series novellas Pilot’s Bargain, Pilot’s Heart, Loving the Enemy, and Eye of the Tigress.

Buy it at Changeling Press:
Buy it at All Romance Ebooks:

Excerpt from Shifter’s Station 1: Pilot’s Bargain

The commander cut off whatever Captain Devlin was going to say. “I have the ability to probe your mind to determine if you’re telling the truth. And if you are lying, I can compel the truth from you.”

Larissa studied him for a moment. He seemed sincere and somewhat dismayed by the captain’s brusque manner. “Do it.”

She felt pressure on her head, as if someone were mashing the heel of their hand against her forehead. Then the pressure turned to pain. It grew sharper until it felt like a needle was boring into her skull.

She felt tension radiating from Adesta. “Stop fighting it.”

“I… can’t. I don’t –”

Then the pain spread as if her skull had cracked. She fell to her knees, panting. The world began to go black. But just before she passed out, the pain disappeared.

“Fires of hell, she’s strong.”

The captain snorted. “Did you get through?”

“Yes, she’s telling the truth.”

Thank the god. They would have to let her go now. Larissa heard the men speaking, but they sounded very far away. A dull pounding still echoed in her head. Nothing like the tearing pain of the scan, but she still wasn’t sure she could stand.

Then she felt a hand on her arm. It was the commander. She wanted to refuse his assistance, but she didn’t want to be on her knees in front of the captain. He was arrogant enough without her prostrating herself like a slave.

When the commander helped her to her feet, she stepped away and forced herself to focus on Devlin. His dark eyes were narrow and cold. “Who taught you to shield your thoughts?”

“My boss.”

Devlin raised his brows. “You need this ability often on cargo runs?”

“When you take these kinds of jobs, you do.”

He laughed. “I suppose you are right. Federated Transport isn’t exactly a legitimate business.”

“And yours is?”

Adesta’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “You seem to be losing your touch, Captain. You usually have them trembling in their boots by now.”

Larissa just managed to keep from rolling her eyes. The captain might be one delightfully put together man, but she had no intention of rolling over for him. “Can I go now?”

Devlin scowled. “No.”

“The commander has established my innocence.”

“He has established that you were unaware that the weapons were faulty. But I still have one dead crewman and several more injured. Someone has to pay.”

“Yes. That someone is my bastard of a boss.”

“But he’s not here, and you are.”

“Captain.” The warning glare in the commander’s eyes gave Larissa hope he might convince his superior to let her go.

“She stays.”

Larissa’s heart pounded. “You can’t be serious.”

He gave a cold smile. “I’m always serious.”

Larissa clasped her hands behind her back to hide their shaking. “You can’t just keep me here.”

“I can do anything I damn well please.”

“But –”

The captain stepped toward her. She stabbed her nails into her palms, hoping the pain would dull her fear and help her hold her ground.

Devlin grasped the single braid that hung down her back and jerked her head to the side. “I am the law here. No one questions what I do. If I wanted to shove you out an airlock, that’s exactly what I’d do. No one would dare protest.”

She held her breath, and commanded her suddenly rubbery legs to keep her upright.

He let her go and stepped back. “Fortunately for you, I have something far more pleasant in mind as repayment for your crimes.”

Larissa’s lungs burned, but she couldn’t seem to fill them with air. She forced herself to look him in the eye. “I have no intention of letting you punish me for a crime I didn’t commit.”

Adesta smirked. “I like her spirit.”

The captain stared at her intently. “So do I. The spirited ones are so much more fun to break.”

Larissa’s heart hammered against her chest. She knew her eyes were wide and her fear shone all too plainly. She felt like a rabbit cornered by a wolf — a big bad wolf with plans to eat her.

Now why the hell did that thought make her body feel hot and tight? She was so damn wet she’d likely soaked through her flight suit. What was wrong with her?

Devlin took a long, deliberate inhale. “Mmm. I think she likes us more than she wants us to know.”

Shit! The last thing she needed was for him to be aware of how she was responding to them. She needed to convince them to let her go. But before she could think of anything to say, Devlin’s lips curled up in a wicked smile.

“Since you seem so interested in the issue of fairness, why don’t we strike a bargain?”

“What bargain would that be?” Larissa mentally cursed the quaver she heard in her voice.

His smile widened. “I will spend the next two hours convincing you that you want to stay. If you can resist, you go free. If you can’t, you agree to remain on the station as my servant for the next month.”

Larissa took a deep breath. Her initial reaction was to tell him to go to hell, but something told her this might be her only way off the station. “How will you convince me to stay?”

“That’s my secret, but you have my word you will come to no harm.”

“Why should I trust you?”

The captain’s face froze, and a sound too like an animal’s growl rose from his chest.

Larissa glanced at Adesta. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t go down that road if I were you.”

“Fine. If I were to lose, which I have no intention of doing, how would you expect me to serve you?”

The captain’s smile returned instantly. “With every last inch of your naked body.”

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Steampunk Week: Majesty Mysteries: Silver Spider by Lena Austin

Majesty Mysteries: Silver Spider

by Lena Austin
Writing Steampunk for me is an exercise in combining science fiction with historicals, two of my favorite genres. I very much enjoy giving a lady much more to do than hostess a tea party or faint when things get tough. The idea of her getting her hands dirty to win the day while still wearing a corset is a delightful joke, and very unrealistic. However, in my research I discovered how joyously many women delved into the secret world of naughtiness. Nothing gives me greater pleasure, except when I can combine all this with paranormal adventure. So it is with the Majesty Mysteries series. I do hope you enjoy. There are more to come over the course of time.

Read an excerpt

Majesty Mysteries: Silver Spider

by Lena Austin
Cover art: Marteeka Karland

ISBN: 978-1-60521-368-2

Genre(s): Paranormal, History Rewritten

Theme(s): Bisexual and More, Cougar (Older Woman/Younger Man)

Series: Majesty Mysteries

Length: Novel

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Book Summary
The secretive Duke of Aberystwyth has invited Madge Majesty to a murder mystery party, but he’s the first victim!
Madge is a harpy, mystery writer, and amateur sleuth with a nose for murder. At her side is her faithful chauffeur, Hayden, who is a telekinetic ex-thief — and a confirmed bachelor.

Now it’s up to Madge to solve the whodunit. Her suspects are a motley assortment of inverts and very nervous heterosexuals, all of whom have more than just their sexual foibles to hide. Is it the cross-dressing vampire, the packless werewolf, the voyeuristic doctor, the gargoyle majordomo, or the promiscuous man who seems bent on getting everyone into his bed, including Hayden?

Majesty Mysteries: Silver Spider
Lena Austin
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2009 Lena Austin

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.


Madge Majesty looked up from her study of the papers spread on her lap and across the seat of her beloved 1912 Rolls Royce Silver Ghost Limousine. “Yes, Hayden?”

“Madame, Dunraven Castle is but perhaps half an hour away. You requested a warning.” Hayden had lasted years longer than any of her other drivers, so he knew he was liked, but wasn’t fool enough to take advantage of that knowledge. Harpies were not creatures to take lightly.

“Hmm. So I did.” She gathered up her papers and stuffed them into her leather case. Wearily, she pulled on the gloves she’d laid to the side and put on the ridiculously large hat with an immense array of feathers decorating it. “There. I’m properly adorned.” She huffed out an unladylike breath, as much as her corset would allow. “I’d give a great deal to be back in Greece where the fashions were sensible.”

Hayden quirked a smile at her. “But not warm, Madame. Wales in winter is considerably chillier.” As if to emphasize his point, the wind rattled the Rolls with no respect for the craftsmanship that went into it.

“I’m very sorry I agreed to be the Duke’s hostess for this mystery party. Why didn’t I refuse and stay in our lovely townhouse in London, where I could enjoy a party or write as I pleased?” Madge rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Ah, well, what’s done is done. We’ll make the best of the weekend and be toasting our toes in front of the home fires soon enough.”

“I’ve never been to a mystery party, Madame. How does one throw a party for a mystery?”

“Very simple. It’s all in this box.” Madge patted the locked strongbox beside her. “There are clue cards and the basic plot for me to follow. This one is perfect for a winter game, called The Santa Clause. Who wouldn’t love to murder a solicitor or two now and again?” She shrugged. “I certainly would, upon occasion.”

Hayden retreated into silence and returned his attention to maneuvering her precious new car through the few treacherous roads that Wales bothered to have at all. The ex-thief was not fond of anyone who had anything to do with the law. He was officially rehabilitated, but a mere ten years of service as her driver didn’t negate a lifetime of running from authority. An extremely careful and quiet man by nature, he was — in Madge’s opinion — the perfect companion, much better than a twittering peahen of a lady’s maid.

The car lurched and slid to one side on a patch of icy mud, throwing Madge against the door. She bore it in stoic silence. Hayden wouldn’t understand how much they needed the money provided by this weekend of enforced merriment. Everyone was writing books in this day and age, and she wouldn’t say the money she earned was paltry, but it certainly didn’t allow for a lavish lifestyle. In fact, if the truth were known, Hayden was the only employee she could afford. Thus, while on their jaunts — often paid by those who wished for a bit of fame and glamour to rub off on them — Hayden served as chef, chauffeur, lady’s maid, and man of all work.

Since it suited her to be knowledgeable about subjects many men hadn’t even the stomach for, Madge pulled out of her case one of the few books where the great Sigmund Freud appeared to change his mind on the subject of anxiety and inhibitions. Madge grinned to herself. She did love humor, especially when humans meant to be serious. “Of course we all have inhibitions, moronic little man.”

Her mumble caught Hayden’s attention. “Why do you bother with that mumbo-jumbo, Madame? He thinks everything has to do with sexual congress!”

“Hmm, yes, well, he does have certain prejudices, doesn’t he? I’m not aberrant because I enjoy sex, and I seriously doubt the way your mother changed your nappies has anything to do with your homosexuality. Do be forgiving, dear. He’s hopelessly addicted to cocaine, and trapped in a repressed society.”

Sadly, everything she said was true. “You’d know more about repressed societies than I, Madame. I’m only a poor human, after all.” Hayden gave her one of his infamous Mona Lisa smiles — a smile that showed no teeth but implied much more than mischief while keeping well into propriety. Bless him, he never stepped a toe out of line publicly, unless called upon to do so.

Madge, on the other hand, had no compunctions about showing her fangs, even when she covered her retractable dagger-like talons with silk gloves. The pointed ears peeking out of dark curls and her Grecian looks marked her as a foreigner in a land notable for its snobbery, but Madge saw no need to bother hiding herself. Well, all right, she hid the wings. Blasted things got in the way if she didn’t, but that was for her convenience and not propriety. She was what she was — an expatriate harpy who told a good story and occasionally found cause to use her bloodthirsty nature to solve a mystery.

The irony was, no one ever thought to accuse her of the murders because harpies weren’t known for subtlety when it came to killing. Madge acknowledged the legend with twisted lips, and didn’t bother to remind anyone that she was free and no longer the slave of the Furies.

Framed by snow clouds the color of a pigeon’s breast, Dunraven Castle hove up from the surrounding hills like a fairytale. Beautifully situated and scrupulously maintained by a trust none of the Duke’s wastrel ancestors could touch, it was a welcoming sight in the gathering gloom of dusk. Thanks to the road conditions, if you dared call the deeply rutted mud tracks by the same noble word the Romans used for their craftsmanship, they were hours late. They’d missed tea in their haste to make up time, and now her stomach rumbled audibly. “Have we time for a biscuit, Hayden?”

“Was that your stomach, Madame? Surely I thought we were about to have a storm.” Hayden pretended to study the sky very seriously. At the same time, his hand reached back imploringly. “I’d love a bikky, thank you. No doubt I’ve missed the servant’s dinner, and I’ve no mind to make do with a bit of cold chicken and some bread until morning.”

Chuckling wickedly because he knew she always insisted he sit with her at table, forestalling any foolish matchmaking attempts, Madge handed him a large shortbread biscuit from her hamper, and they munched companionably. Finally, the car traversed the bridge atop the dry moat and passed through the portcullis into the courtyard of Dunraven.

“Just do me one small favor, Madame?” Hayden did not move from the seat to open her door.

“So serious! Very well, what is it?” She thought she knew, but made him ask.

“Let’s try not to let this weekend become a real murder mystery?” His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and she imagined under the proper driving gloves of his profession, his knuckles were white. Poor thing, he really had suffered at the last mysterious weekend, and had ended up incarcerated for three days until Madge had proven to everyone’s satisfaction that another had committed the deed. For poor Hayden, it had been a truly miserable occasion.

Madge patted his shoulder. “Buck up, Hayden. I’m planning nothing more than a game all weekend. After all, what could happen in the Duke’s presence?”

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