Odd Man Out by @galestanley #PNR #LGBT #GayRomance #EroticRomance #NewRelease #shifters @changelingpress


Ray and Jared were living the perfect life until Ray discovered his ability to shift. Now he dreams of his wolf every night, and lives in fear of the beast.

Remus is the only man who can help Ray control his inner wolf. But if they connect will Jared become the odd man out?

Buy Links:


Changeling Press





wolf pic (1)




“Wake the fuck up! Come on, Ray, wake up.”

Jared gripped Ray’s upper arms and shook him again. No response. Nobody sleeps that soundly. For Christ’s sake, he looked catatonic, like the woman in The Fall of the House of Usher, who’s pronounced dead and then buried alive. Now Jared was scared. He considered throwing cold water on him, maybe calling for an ambulance. He shook Ray again.

Slowly, Ray opened his right eye. An explosion in Afghanistan took his left eye years ago.

“Jared?” Ray mumbled.

“Yeah, Jared. Were you expecting someone else?”

Ray looked around the room. He seemed confused.

“Snap out of it, man. I couldn’t wake you.”

“I’m awake. I’m awake.” Ray stretched. He looked like he wanted to go back to sleep.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry. I must have been dreaming.”

“Must have been some dream. There’s a wet spot on the bed.”

Ray checked the sheets. He looked surprised. “Sorry.”

“Forget it, Sexy.” Jared climbed into bed with him. “Tell me all the dirty details. I want to get off too.”

“You know I never remember my dreams.” Ray rolled out of bed. “I better change the sheets.”

Jared made a grab for him. “Later.”

Ray evaded him. “Look at the time, Jared.”

“You used to call me Baby?” Jared spoke more harshly than he intended.

“Fuck the sheets, and the time. We own the company. Let’s go in late. Better yet, let’s take the day off.”

“We can’t afford to close shop, even for one day. Too many P.I.’s in Jersey. The completion is killing us. ”

“We’re the new guys in town. All we need is a big profile case and the clients will be knocking our door down.”

“I hope so.” Ray headed toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Come back, I’ll give you a tongue bath instead.”

The bathroom door slammed behind Ray. Worried, Jared lay back with his arms under his head. Ray never wanted to fuck anymore. He always had an excuse. I’m too tired. It’s late. I’m drunk. I have a headache.

The sex had been dwindling for months. Six months to be exact. Ever since Remus showed up and screwed up their lives. If he was just another man Jared could handle the competition, but Remus was larger than life, a superhero who’d come from Ray’s past to claim him.

Author Bio and Links

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Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.

Website | Blog | Twitter | FaceBook | Instagram | Pinterest

Happy Reading!



Spice & Vanilla by Katherine Wyvern, plus an interview! @KatherineWyvern @evernightpub #GayRomance #RomanceBooks #LGBTQ

Spice-vanilla-editor review

Interview with Katherine Wyvern

What prompted you to start writing professionally? Was it one pivotal moment in your life, or just something you’ve always wanted to do?

It came about gradually. I always wrote stories since I can remember. In my late twenties I shared some of these with an online group, and got some very positive feedback. A few years later again, I could not find any erotica that was really to my taste, so I decided to write my own. This bits of erotic writing became longer and more articulate than I had planned, and it turned into my debut novel Black Carnival.

Was it hard to find the right publisher for your style of writing? What one thing stood out about your current publisher that made you accept their offer?

No, it’ wasn’t. I was in a writer’s forum at the time, and a couple of Evernight authors were part of it. They seemed quite happy, so it was my first go-to publisher when I decided to submit Black Carnival.

If you were to describe your style of writing to someone, what would you say?

It’s very poetic in parts. I love luscious descriptions that carry the reader away from reality and into the story (hopefully). But I can also be gritty and realistic, especially in the dialogues.

Who influenced your writing the most?

Antonia S. Byatt and Patrick O’Brian, certainly. Antonia S. Byatt is well known for her excellent prose, but Patrick O’Brian is often dismissed as just “the bloke who wrote all those ships books”, while in fact his writing is phenomenal. Lush, moving, witty, a wonderful grasp of rhythm and scale.

Is there a book or series out there that you claim as your favorite? And why is it your favorite?

It’s really hard to pick. More or less anything written by A. S. Byatt, especially Possession, The Children’s books and Angels and Insects. For the beauty of the writing, and the scale and detail of the world building. You are simply transported to Victorian England… O’Brian’s books, for pretty much the same reasons. And the Lord of the Rings.

Are you a plotter or pantser? Why do you think one way works better for you than the other?

Oh I am SUCH a pantser. I could not plot to save my life, lol. I have never been good at planning, in any aspect of my life. I seem to function best when I am going with the flow, and discovering what my part is in the great scheme of things. Even when crafting or doing art, I like the materials to guide the design of things to a rather large degree.

If you haven’t always written professionally, what are some types of jobs you’ve had previously? Do you feel that your experiences or the people you met during that time helped shape the writer you’ve become?

Absolutely! I worked as welder and as a gardener for years, plus a few more temporary jobs, and yes, all these experiences definitely bleed into my stories.

If someone chose one word to describe you, what do you think they would pick? Why that word?

I would like to say, “creative”, but I fear it might be “obsessive”. When the fuse is lit there is just no stopping me; I got to get through with a project if it is the death of me. I forget to eat and drink, when I am really “in the zone”.

Do you need complete silence to write? Or do you write with the TV on or music playing?

I don’t have a TV and I might have to smash it if it were on when I am trying to write! Instrumental music is fine, but anything with voice and words is too distracting.

Do you have any advice for struggling writers out there? Any words of wisdom on how to make their dreams come true?

Me, wisdom, ha ha! I’d have to say, don’t plan on leaving your day-job yet. There are many, many excellent published writers who hardly make any money out of their books. Getting published is not the same as being economically successful. Keep your expectations low in that department, and you won’t be disappointed.


Now, let’s talk a little about your current book…

What’s the title of your current release and is it part of a series?

It is Spice & Vanilla. Yes and no. It can be read as a complete standalone, and it’s not really a sequel to Woman as a Foreign Language. But the two books are still linked together by their main topic (unusual gender-identity) and the characters from WaaFL both appear briefly in the new novel so that we get a small glimpse of their story after the end of the first volume.

Who published Spice & Vanilla?

Evernight Publishing, as most of my books.

Your cover looks amazing. Do you know who the artist is?

Yes of course! Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art. She is a wonder, and she’s willing to take an author’s input onboard, so that you feel your cover really has a connection to your book.

Was there something in particular that inspired you to write this story?

It came about as the sum of two different story-lines. One was a spill-over from my previous release, Woman as a Foreign Language. In that story there was a male-to-female cross-dresser whose painful past of disclosure and rejection was alluded to only briefly. I wanted to expand on that element, and explore the tremendous emotional rollercoaster that all parties involved in such a coming-out will go through.

The second story line was sparked in one millisecond when a dear, dear friend of mine described himself as an angel with a bit of a devil inside. That immediately made me want to write this character that is constantly on the fence of… anything, really. He’s gender-fluid, bisexual, a really sweet man with a seriously dark side, and a switch on top of everything…

If there’s one thing a reader will take away from this story, what do you hope it is?

I hope it will be a message of tolerance and open-mindedness … I wanted to send a plea for empathy and understanding to *both* transgender and cisgender readers.

Spice-vanilla-medium (1)

About the Book:

Time was, when Di could dance all night. Time was, when she could ride any horse in the stable. Time was when she had a fiancée, a future and a home she loved. Until a silver SUV came out of nowhere and broke her life in half.

Well concealed under a sarcastic, spiny hide, Hugh has a darkly romantic, passionate soul. Torn between love and terror, he’s held the talented, elegant, magnetic Raphael carefully at arm’s length since the day they met.

Male or female, men or women, kinky or sweet, top or bottom? Angel or devil? Raphael’s life is a string of unanswered questions. And Lucie, his long-hidden female self, may bring it all together or destroy everything he has.

Be warned: cross-dressing, gender-queer, explicit M/M and M/F sex, anal sex, spanking, flogging, bondage, forced orgasm, sex toys

Purchase Links:

Find Spice & Vanilla at Evernight (spicy excerpt): https://www.evernightpublishing.com/spice-vanilla-by-katherine-wyvern/

Or on Amazon (even spicier sample): https://www.amazon.com/Spice-Vanilla-Katherine-Wyvern-ebook/dp/B07CWFZYFS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1525683799&sr=8-1&keywords=spice+Vanilla+Katherine+wyvern

You can also find an exclusive (almost vanilla) excerpt on my website, here:



About the Author:

See what Katherine is up to on:

Katherine’s Blog: https://katherinewyvern.blogspot.fr/

Katherine’s Website: http://meetingivory.wixsite.com/katherinewyvern

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/katherinewyvern

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KatherineWyvern

Or follow her on Instagram @katherinewyvern





Throwback Thursday: Chapter and Verse by Willa Okati #LGBT #GayRomance #PNR #werewolves #TBT @willaokati @changelingpress

Love between two Omegas is forbidden. But Carey’s determined to break all the rules.


Chapter and Verse (Omega Wolves 7) by Willa  Okati

Publisher: Changeling Press
Genres: Paranormal (Werewolves/Shifters), Gay
Length: 54 pages

Put aside by his former mate for his inability to bear children, Omega Lane retreated into the Alaskan interior and has lived there alone ever since. He’s a lone wolf and a hermit, not part of the world and no longer wanting to be.

Until Carey comes across his path. Younger, and also an Omega, Carey’s on the run from an Alpha who won’t take no for an answer. Though Carey thinks at first he might be pregnant, he soon learns that isn’t the case — instead, he’s going into heat.

Carey doesn’t want or trust an Alpha anywhere near him. Lane, who has kept his preference for Omegas hidden for years, is the only one Carey chooses to trust. But can Lane let Carey into his life after living alone for so long?

And what if Carey decides he doesn’t want to leave?

Purchase from Changeling Press

also available at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, and Kobo


The entire point of living as a lone wolf in the interior of Alaska was the blessed solitude of it all. Lane hadn’t seen a face he didn’t know, and hadn’t been bothered by any familiar acquaintances for almost five years.

Until today.

Alaska boasted the only flag-stop trains still in existence in the United States. With a line running through the heart of the wilderness, would-be passengers who likely didn’t have piped water, much less Wi-Fi, could wait by the side of the tracks and flag down an oncoming train if they needed to go to town. Lane kept his visits to a strict quarterly schedule — biannual if he could manage it, and sometimes he could. But no matter how well anyone planned, they would eventually run out of essentials like coffee, and a trek couldn’t be avoided.

Of course, not knowing exactly when the train would come could mean hours of waiting in thigh deep snow, but those were the breaks.

Lane had just wrapped his fleece-lined coat more snugly around his narrow shoulders when there came a racket he hadn’t heard in years. It was so unfamiliar that at first he pricked up his ears in confusion, unable to identify the noise.

But when the Omega struggled free of his tree line, it all came flooding back. Lane’s lips parted in shock at the sight of a stranger on his property — and a clumsy one at that, clearly unused to walking in snow this deep, stumbling every other step and showing signs of having fallen flat on his face several times in recent hours.

So surprised was he that he couldn’t speak a word until the stranger had come within arm’s reach of him. The Omega stopped there and searched Lane’s face with desperate speed, then let his breath out in a puff of — relief?

“You’re not an Alpha,” the Omega said. He had a sweet voice made ragged from exertion. “You’re not an Alpha, are you?”

Lane’s teeth ached from the cold, and he finally remembered to close his mouth. “No. I’m not.”

The sound of his own voice was strange to him after three solid months of silence, but the words came out as they always had. Clipped, cool, precise. Emotionless. He knew how he must look, returning stare for stare with the Omega. Too tall, too thin, and too wiry for any kind of beauty, with a Madonna mouth and blue eyes like chips of frozen sky.

There wasn’t any way to avoid the impression of a disapproving monk, so he usually didn’t bother. He folded his hands in front of him and lifted his chin. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. I know that was rude. But I had to be sure,” the Omega said in a rush, with an embarrassed shrug. “You look like an Alpha from a distance.”

“You don’t.”

The Omega paled and looked down at his boots. “Oh.”

Why is that a bad thing? Lane wondered. It was true. Small and slim and delicately shaped, this one shouted Omega from the second he came into sight. True, he would be better described as “cute” than pretty, with a spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks — and his hair! It looked like he must have worn it long, then tied it up in a ponytail and cut it off just above the band with a pair of kitchen scissors. Dull ones. “And you didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

“I did answer. I said it doesn’t matter.” The Omega lifted his head, strong emotion giving his skin color despite the cold. “Where are you going?”

Lane considered not replying, but the old habits of politeness ran deep. “Talkeetna. For supplies.”

The Omega’s lips moved in what looked like a silent thank you. He made a sudden movement that culminated with his pressing a bundle of folded bills, mostly ones and fives, into Lane’s hand. “Buy my ticket for me with that. Please.”

Lane didn’t close his fingers around the money. “What on earth?”

“Please,” the Omega begged, casting a wary glance toward Lane’s tree line. “Please. You look like an Alpha from a distance.”

Yes, and being reminded of his failures wasn’t exactly winning him over to the Omega’s side. “It’s not the 1800s anymore. Omegas are allowed to buy their own tickets.”

“I know, I just — please.” The Omega tried to close Lane’s fist, his fingers slim and cold. No gloves? If he wasn’t a shifter, he would have succumbed to frostbite hours ago. Even so, he had the luck of the devil.

Lane pressed his lips together. “Who are you?” he asked for the third time. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

The Omega shook his head. “I can’t — I mean, I’m not — I’m not in any trouble. I swear I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, and you’re a bad liar on top of it.” Lane rubbed at his forehead. Oh, this one was trouble walking. Anyone could see that. And yet… Lane knew a few things about wanting to run away from your worries, and your worse-than-worries. Hadn’t he done exactly that? Looking at the Omega’s huge, pleading eyes, how could he do anything besides help?

The train was coming. Lane could hear its great engines roaring and chugging in the near distance. He had a minute, or less, to make up his mind. He let out a long breath that puffed white vapor in the frigid air and closed his fingers around the Omega’s money. “On one condition. You tell me your name.”


Willa Okati is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, and a lifelong love of storytelling. She is definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

You can reach Willa at willaokati@gmail.com.

Join Willa on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/willa.okati.

Off-Limits by Gale Stanley #NewRelease #GayRomance #shifters @galestanley

OFF-LIMITS Sanctuary 1



Heat Rating: SCORCHING

Word Count: 21,584

[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Contemporary Paranormal Romance, shape-shifter, M/M, HEA]


When Quinn Hart’s best friend died, he became guardian to the man’s ten-year- old son, Noah Stone. So far, Quinn has been able to conceal the growing attraction he feels for Noah, but now Noah is twenty-two and returning home from college. Honor still holds Quinn back from revealing his true feelings. Their community of bear shifters consider reproduction a priority, and Quinn fears they would never accept a homosexual relationship.

Noah has always hidden his romantic feelings for his guardian, but now he’s a man, and his desire is stronger than ever. Unable to handle his feelings, Noah leaves Oregon for a position in a research facility. But when Noah arrives in New York, he discovers his employer is harvesting bear bile and he’s the new source.

Quinn is determined to find Noah. But can he admit what he really wants before it’s too late?


Home. Noah had forgotten how much he missed the endless expanse of lush green landscape and the sparkling river. And the trees. Especially the trees. When the leaves whispered in the wind, it made Noah’s heart ache. Whoever had named their small town knew that trees were sanctuaries.

But for all that, home wasn’t a place, it was a person—Quinn. Noah could live anywhere with Quinn. But a life with Quinn was as likely as a sharknado ripping through Sanctuary.

Noah moved away from the window and gazed at his reflection. The mirror was wall mounted and speckled in places. The frame matched the wood dresser beneath it. A handknitted brown and tan spread covered the crude pine bed. The room had been decorated on a meager budget, but it was warm and comforting because Quinn had handcrafted all the furniture himself.

Noah’s bedroom hadn’t changed since he was a kid. Yesterday, when he’d first stepped through the door, he’d felt the walls close in on him. As a kid, this room seemed huge, but now that he was a man, he could see how small it really was. It felt surreal like turning back the clock, but not in a bad way. If only he could—

“Where’s the man of the hour?”

The sound of loud voices traveled up the stairs. More guests had arrived for the party. The community was small, but when everyone attended an event, it could be overwhelming. Noah checked his image in the mirror again. He’d already changed shirts several times, and he still wasn’t sure that he liked the blue chambray shirt he’d put on with his khakis. Why am I making such a big deal out of this? He felt like Marcus primping for one of those stupid frat parties. What difference did it make what color shirt he wore? Stop stalling, he told himself. You can’t stay in your room forever.

Noah stood at the top of the stairs. Below, friends and neighbors were chatting excitedly. Noah had nothing to say to them. He would disappoint them. Anxiety made his stomach churn.


Happy Reading!

Available at

Bookstrand | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

OffLimits teaser 1

Author Bio and Links

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.

Website | Blog | Twitter | FaceBook | Instagram | Pinterest

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Spotlight: Love in the First Degree by Mychael Black #LGBT #EroticRomance #GayRomance @mychael_black ‏


Robbie Sexton is heading home to north Alabama for his father’s funeral. In Baltimore, he could be himself, but in Athens, Alabama, he figures he’ll be back in the proverbial closet. The only one who knows he’s even gay is his cousin Danny. Of course, that’s when life decides to throw him a curveball. Thanks to a bit of matchmaking on Danny’s part, Robbie meets Seth Ellis, one of the newest ranch hands on his uncle’s farm. Before long, he realizes maybe heading home wasn’t such a bad idea.

Over several months, Robbie’s life winds up in a bit of a whirlwind. Between becoming an uncle himself, dealing with his bigoted brother, and trying to start over in the tattoo business, he has his hands full. But there remains one constant in his life: Seth.


Ebook: https://gumroad.com/l/KNSBB
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/798928
Print: https://www.amazon.com/dp/198527535X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1518387064&sr=1-1


“Wow. Very nice. You an artist?”

The sexy drawl pulled Robbie’s attention from the sketchbook on his lap to the tall, tanned body standing in front of him. If he looked straight ahead, his line of sight was dead level with the man’s crotch. Even through a layer of faded denim, it was obvious the man had plenty to offer. Gaze continuing upward, Robbie drank in the sweat-slick skin, stretched taut over chiseled muscles and tanned to soft gold. A light dusting of pale brown hair—bleached gold by the sun—began at the man’s chest and drew a path down his sun-kissed torso, only to disappear beneath his jeans.

His shoulders were broad, and the sleeves of his open blue plaid shirt were rolled up, tight around hard biceps. A black cowboy hat sat on his head, cocked forward just enough to hide his face. Then the man tipped the hat back, taking Robbie’s breath away. Eyes greener than the new spring grass reflected the man’s easy smile. The slightest hint of a five o’clock shadow gave him a ruggedly sexy look. Not that he needed the help.

“Name’s Seth Ellis,” the sun god said, extending a hand downward.

Regaining his composure, Robbie stood and brushed the grass off of his right hand before shaking Seth’s. “Robbie Sexton.”

“I’m really sorry about your dad.”

“Thanks,” Robbie said. As Seth released his hand, Robbie noticed it was done with a bit of hesitation. Now that was promising. “I’m gonna grab a beer. You wanna join me?”


Robbie snuck around the porch and into the front yard, snagging two beer bottles from one of the big coolers and making it away without being seen. Hell, yes! The day was looking up! He returned to Seth and handed him one of the bottles.

“Follow me,” he said. “I know some of the best places around here where a man can find some peace.”

“Of what?” Seth chuckled before taking a long drink.

Robbie glanced over at him. “If the right person’s offering…” He left the rest unsaid, waiting to see if Seth took the bait.

A smile played across Seth’s lips just before they oh-so-slowly wrapped around the mouth of the beer bottle. “So,” Seth said after his sip, “is he offering?” He flashed Robbie a wicked grin from behind the bottle, followed by a quick wink.

Robbie’s throat went dry as cotton as he stared at Seth, or rather Seth’s tongue as it did obscene things to the beer bottle. What the hell had Danny been telling the man?

Clearing his throat, Robbie remembered how to do something other than stare. “I’m guessing you’ve spoken to my cousin Danny.”

Seth grinned. “You could say that.”

Robbie licked his lips. If anything, life wouldn’t be boring here now. “This way,” he said quickly. He forced himself to walk when he wanted to run.

Just as they rounded the corner of the combine barn, a strong hand gripped his arm. Within seconds, Robbie was captive, body caught between the hard metal building and an equally hard cowboy. Hips rocking, Seth ground against him, tongue pushing into Robbie’s mouth without any hesitation. The cowboy tasted like beer and sun and male, blazing hot, breath almost scorching as the kiss moved from Robbie’s mouth to his throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Robbie breathed. His head swam as long fingers found the button of his jeans, popping them open. Then those fingers were inside, slipping into his underwear, tips brushing the head of his prick. Robbie gasped and held on, arms draped over Seth’s shoulders.

“So hot,” Seth murmured, moving back up to take Robbie’s mouth in another searing kiss.

God, this man was unbelievable.


Myc has been writing professionally since 2005, solo and with Shayne Carmichael. Genres include pretty much anything (no steampunk yet), though Myc is well known for paranormal stories. When not writing, Myc is usually playing PC games, reading, editing, watching movies and shows on Netflix and Amazon, or spending way too much time on Facebook. Since the question has come up in the past, pronouns are not an issue. Myc is bio-female, mentally male, 100% genderfluid. So any pronoun works!



Spotlight: New from Changeling Press #NewRelease #EroticRomance @changelingpress @MarieTreanor @MeganSlayer

Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres: Scifi, BDSM, Gay
Length: 44 pages

In the near future, all employment positions — including prostitution — are government mandated. Connor is, by trade, a Sexual Technician who is weary of his vanilla clients and yearns to service someone with edgier tastes.

When a run-in with a sadistic client leaves him both gun shy and threatened with being fired, he must overcome his own fears and inhibitions to please a new client, Pieter, or risk being banished to Dreg City, home of murderers, rapists, and the criminally unemployed.

Purchase at Changeling Press



Cover Artist: Karen Fox
Genres: Futuristic, Paranormal, Scifi, Cyber-Punk
Length: 193 pages

In the depths of nuclear winter, Lara, a self-sufficient cop, leaves the safety of Dome City and travels north in search of her missing brother.

In the City of the Damned, where radiation poisoning has created new mutant species, April sets off a chain of events and deceptions destined to change the life of all the city’s inhabitants.

For Max, who has felt little but blood thirst for many years, the blinding sexual pleasure he experiences with April becomes an obsession. When wolf and vampire collide, one will be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice, for the survival of their world.

Like wolves, the lupi mate for life. As for vampires… they mate for something more…

Publisher’s Note: City of the Damned (Tales of the Damned Vol.1) contains the previously published novellas Loving the Wolf (City of the Damned 1), Loving the Vampire (City of the Damned 2), and Loving the Man (City of the Damned 3).

Purchase at Changeling Press



Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres: Dark Desire, BDSM, Contemporary
Length: 117

Seven women. Seven Challenges. What each woman gets is beyond her wildest dreams.

Make Me: A crop, some rope, a sweet little plug — just what she wants, and all she had to say was “Make me.”

Show Me: Calen’s issued a challenge — her naked before the wall of windows in their sixth floor apartment. Will Elisha please her master or walk away forever?

Take Me: Talia wants nothing more than to shirk her duties on the set of her latest movie so she can be with her heartthrob husband. But she never expected him to kidnap her — or did she?

Watch Me: Kacey and Marc’s lives changed the moment the hunk moves in next door. Will they be willing to make all their fantasies reality, or will they have to live with the view through the window?

Film Me: Jinx has been around the world of adult films for more than five years. Leading man Wes Long challenges Jinx for more. He’ll accept nothing less than her total submission — on and off the set.

Capture Me: Dolly makes her living posing for pinup shots. She’s got the look — the tats, the piercings — but she’s not a size two. Some guys love a wicked hot challenge.

Caught Me: Trick’s offered his girl a challenge — simple, easy, and sure to be decadent. He’s going to make her wildest dreams come true.

Publisher’s Note: Challenges (Box Set) contains the previously published novellas Make Me, Show Me, Take Me, Watch Me, Film Me, Capture Me, and Caught Me.

Purchase at Changeling Press



Throwback Thursday: Accursed by Saloni Quinby #GayRomance #PNR #TBT #DarkFantasy @changelingpress


Can two suspicious men learn to trust one another before a demon curse destroys them both?


Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres: Paranormal, Dark Fantasy
Themes: Dark Desire, Gay
Length: Novella

At the request of his aunt, Medium Maxim Thomas travels to the London mansion of actor Ian Northhill to search for paranormal dangers. The first-born sons in Ian’s family have all died on their thirty-fourth birthday, and Ian’s is just around the corner. The problem is, he doesn’t believe in ghosts, demons or curses.

When Maxim and Ian meet, they’re overwhelmed by lust, but great sex doesn’t change Maxim’s bitterness toward actors or Ian’s loathing of “phony” psychics. Unable to ignore their desire for each other, the men try to overcome their prejudices. While Ian performs a retelling of Jekyll and Hyde on stage, a real life Jekyll and Hyde plots to destroy him. Will Ian trust Maxim enough to allow his lover to save him from the family curse?

Purchase from Changeling Press



Aunt Judith gave Maxim a tour. The three-story house was made of brick and dark wood and had a narrow, winding staircase leading all the way up to the attic. Judith had her own living quarters with a spacious bedroom and sitting room. Her family pictures and needlework made her living space homier than the rest of the house, but nothing could fully soften the creepy coldness of the gargoyle carvings and general dimness that reminded Maxim of a dungeon.

“Do you feel anything at all out of the ordinary?” Aunt Judith pressed. Her brown eyes looked so hopeful that Maxim hated to disappoint her.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

He’d been in homes even older than this and some quite new ones that were clearly haunted — most by harmless and sometimes even friendly spirits, but here he sensed nothing.

Finally they stepped into an enormous parlor decorated in black, gold and burgundy. An elderly woman — still attractive with large blue eyes and gray hair braided down her back — sat by the fireplace. Maxim could hardly believe she was over one hundred years old.

Flames blazed in the hearth — a welcome chill against the crisp winter morning.

“Mrs. White, I’d like you to meet my nephew, Maxim Thomas.”

“Pleased to meet you, Maxim,” replied the old woman with a disarming smile.

“The pleasure is mine, ma’am.”

Maxim shook her offered hand. It was cool and slender, the veins prominent. He had expected her to have a delicate grip, but her handshake was surprisingly strong for her age.

“It’s a pity my son isn’t home. I’m sure Henry would love to meet you, but I fear he won’t be back from the theater for several hours.”

“Hopefully they can meet at another time,” Aunt Judith said.

“To be sure. In the meantime, please sit and join us for tea.”

Maxim sat in the chair the old woman indicated and Aunt Judith sat as well. Soon they were chatting. Mrs. White, despite her obvious mental issues, was very pleasant and talkative. At times she spoke quite lucidly, but in regards to her family, she was living a fantasy. She couldn’t distinguish between her deceased son and her living grandson. Maxim considered how difficult it must be, not only for Aunt Judith to care for this delusional woman day and night, but for her grandson as well.

A short time later, a woman of about thirty entered with a tray set for tea.

“Maxim, this is Melissa, the cook and housekeeper,” Aunt Judith said.

Melissa grinned. “I like to multi-task.”

“She’s doing a splendid job while Richards is away,” Mrs. White said.

“Richards is the butler,” Aunt Judith explained.

“A very interesting man,” Mrs. White went on. “His family has served ours since the days of Benjamin Northhill. Benjamin built this house in 1795. He was a genius in business and those excellent career instincts have followed every generation of Northhill men. Henry was quite good at business, until he got the wild idea to become an actor. Changed his name to Ian and has been treading the boards ever since.”

Maxim glanced at Aunt Judith and raised an eyebrow. He wondered if Mrs. White was even aware that her son — rather her grandson — was such a famous movie actor as well. It would do no good to ask, considering the poor woman’s mental state.

After tea, Aunt Judith finished the tour of the house, including the kitchen and attic. Again Maxim sensed nothing.

“Aunt Judith, you realize there’s probably no reason for concern,” he said softly, as they made their way to the dining room where Mrs. White awaited them for lunch. “Mr. Northhill’s grandmother is alive and well and she’s long past thirty-four. You say he’s in good health –“

“But, Maxim, I told you that it’s only the men in the family who die young,” Aunt Judith whispered.

“Then other women in the family have lived to a ripe old age?”

Her brow furrowed and after a few moments, she replied, “I believe Mrs. White is the only daughter in… well it must be generations. But we can’t discuss it now.”

Of course she was correct, since they had arrived at the dining room.

Maxim hadn’t planned to stay so long at the house, but during lunch he fell into conversation with the women and realized how much he had missed his aunt. She reminded him of his mother in so many ways, and he quite liked Mrs. White as well. After lunch they went for a walk, then played cards. Before he knew it, dark had fallen.

He glanced at his watch and said, “I seem to have overstayed my welcome. I should leave –“

“Hello,” said a cheerful male voice.

Maxim turned to Ian Northhill who approached, a pleasant smile on his lips, his rag doll hair windblown. He wore a black wool coat belted around his narrow waist.

Maxim felt a slight jolt. No, he wasn’t impressed by meeting a famous actor, but it felt a bit odd to see someone in person after viewing them on screen only. He was a bit surprised to see Ian wearing rather thick black glasses. Apparently the man usually wore contacts. Glasses meant a deficiency and heaven forbid a perfect, airbrushed actor would show the general public that he was somehow flawed.

“Henry, you’re home. Goodness, is the show over already?” Mrs. White asked.

“Uh, no, darling. In fact I must get back to the theater soon. I forgot something and came by to pick it up.”

“Ian, I’d like you to meet my nephew, Maxim Thomas.”

Ian’s charming smile broadened even more and he fixed his gaze on Maxim. Beneath the glasses, his eyes were every bit as blue as they appeared in his movies. He had a beautifully sculpted face — high cheekbones and a long, straight nose. His slender mouth had a perfect bow on his upper lip. Maxim found himself wondering how those lips would taste, then he felt a wave of self-disgust. He sounded like thousands of other fools who fantasized about an illusion. Ian was just a bloke like any other.

He offered his hand to Maxim. “Of course. Your aunt speaks about you often. I’m so glad to meet you.”

Ian already knew about him. That seemed odd, but in a way it made sense that Aunt Judith would mention him, in particular if she was close enough to Ian to be concerned about his welfare.

“I often wondered why you didn’t visit your aunt sooner, but she tells me you’re quite busy running a shop in Leeds.”

“Yes.” Why couldn’t Maxim think of something else to say. Not that he had to worry. Ian had apparently inherited his grandmother’s gift for conversation.

“And you went to school in Australia?”

“I did.”

“A lovely country. I’ve been there several times on promo tours. Enjoyed it immensely. How long will you be in London?”

“Just until Tuesday. I’m off to find a hotel now, actually. I didn’t intend to visit so long, but we started talking and –“

“Well you’ve come to see your aunt, so why not stay here?”

Maxim wondered if he looked as surprised as he felt. “Here?”

“There’s about half dozen guest rooms. Why not put at least one of them to use?” Ian said with another easy smile, then his brow furrowed. “Unless you have other plans. That must have sounded terribly pushy of me.”

“Actually that sounds like a wonderful idea,” Aunt Judith said. “If it’s truly all right with you, Ian?”

“Absolutely. In fact I wish I had more time to stay and talk now, but I really must get back. Goodnight, darling.” He stepped toward Mrs. White and kissed her cheek.

“Have a wonderful show.” Mrs. White patted Ian’s hand, then glanced at Maxim from the corner of her eye and said, “I just can’t bring myself to tell him to break a leg. Silly of me, I know.”

Ian chuckled softly. His gaze met Maxim’s and Maxim’s heart skipped a beat. Somehow Ian’s eyes seemed even lovelier in person — they were so big and their expression soft, yet they glittered with confidence and vitality.

“See you later, Judith,” Ian said, then turned to Maxim and offered his hand again. “A pleasure to meet you. I look forward to talking more later.”

“Glad to meet you as well.” Maxim took his hand and was again surprised when Ian gave his a double squeeze. Had Maxim imagined it? Surely the man couldn’t have —

Yet according to the news media, Ian had no confirmed partner, either male or female. He’d been open about his bisexuality. Was it possible he was interested in —

No. Absolutely not. And even if he did have an interest in Maxim, it would do him no good. Maxim wouldn’t date an actor. Not after —

The whole idea was insane. Even if Ian was attracted to him, he would most likely only be seen with one of his own kind — another actor, director or model. Someone who would look pretty on his arm at industry events and enhance his career.

Not a shop owner.

And this shop owner was certainly not interested in another self-absorbed bore.

Ian released his hand, swept out of the room and headed for the stairs. Maxim glanced after him.

“Well it seems my boy has taken quite a liking to you.” Mrs. White wagged a finger at Maxim.

“So it seems.” Aunt Judith glanced at Maxim with a half-smile on her lips. He almost felt as if she was psychic — sensing his frustrating attraction to the wrong kind of man. Yet for Maxim it wouldn’t be the first time…



The child of a painter and a psychic dreamer, Saloni Quinby feels spirituality and storytelling go hand-in-hand. She loves the scent of gardenia, the sound of wind chimes and the taste of honey. By listening to what isn’t said, she creates works based on unspoken desires. Saloni prefers blurred gender lines and many varieties of romance. In a world where passion must at times be restrained, she believes erotica is a pleasure to be shared. With her stories she would like to make her fantasies yours and hopes you enjoy the ride.

Saloni can be found online at http://kate-hill.com/katehillsaloniquinby/.