Dusty's Snack Shack New Release Blitz #GayBookPromotions

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Dusty’s Snack Shack (Book One of the Short Orders Gay Romance Series)

Author: Dann Hazel

Publisher: The Original Press, LLC

Cover Artist: Joshua Fippen

Release Date: March 25, 2025

Tense/POV: Past Tense; 3rd person

Genres: Gay MM Romance

Tropes: Second Chance, Friends to Lovers, Vacation Encounters

Themes: Long-Distance Romance; Importance of Community; Romance Across Social Classes

Heat Rating: 4 flames    

Length:  60 500 words/215 pages

It is part one of a new series, but can be read as a standalone

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US   |  Amazon UK 

At Dusty’s Snack Shack, desserts range from gooey to chewy. 

But Ken finds the treats at Dusty’s shop aren’t necessarily as sweet as one tantalizing owner!

Blurb

Sand, sun, and a steamy summer fling.

That's all Dusty and Ken expected from their chance encounter at Myrtle Beach, when Ken purchases ice cream from Dusty’s Snack Shack.

But as their bodies entwine, so do their hearts, leading them on a journey of unexpected emotions.

With the bustling beach as their backdrop, and a sweet Saint Bernard that adores both men, they explore the depths of their passion and the pitfalls of falling in love.

Then, as the summer winds down, their romance takes a precarious turn, threatening to tear them apart.

Will their love withstand the crashing waves, or will it be washed away by the tide?

If you enjoyed the passionate romance and twists and turns of Nicholas Sparks' "The Notebook," you'll love this beachside love story with a gay twist.

Why wait? Grab your copy now before the tide changes!

Excerpt 

“I won’t get to see you again before you leave?” The disappointment in Dusty’s voice was palpable.

“Here’s the deal with me, Dusty. I’m not up to driving. Not tonight. I’m far too tired to start the long trek home, only to stop at some fleabag hotel along the way when I get sleepy. Which will happen sooner rather than later. I already feel exhausted.”

“Then stay.” Dusty uttered the words before Ken finished his sentence. “Please. There’s no need for you to transfer to another hotel. I’d love for you to be my guest for as long as you wish.”

“You have a life to live, Dusty, and a business to run—” Ken began.

“That business will be closed for at least another day,” Dusty interrupted. “Probably longer. They’ve closed the entire block near my shop. Several other blocks have also been closed. Customers wouldn’t be allowed access to the Snack Shack even if I were allowed to open it. But I have to wait until city officials give the all-clear.”

For a moment, Ken didn't speak. Then, Dusty heard a heavy, resigned sigh. “Your offer is tempting, Dusty. Really, it is. But let me ask you. Are you fucking positive?”

Dusty laughed gently. “I’ve never been surer of anything else. Get your ass over here as quickly as you can.”

Ken began a hearty chuckle. His chuckle grew into a laugh.

“Why are you laughing?”

“As you know, I wasn’t crazy about a Myrtle Beach vacation from the beginning. Now, I am adamant not to cut the damn thing short. I have four more days, for Christ’s sake! And I’m gonna take them.”

Dusty turned into his driveway, which he'd almost overshot. “The beach can have a seductive effect on people, that’s for sure.”

Dusty transferred the sound from the car’s audio system to his phone. He got out of his car, then headed to his front door. Benji, his tail wagging furiously, was waiting for him,.

“But Dusty? I don’t want you to think the ocean is the only temptation.” Ken’s voice sounded plaintive and sincere, hinting of a vulnerability that Dusty hadn't noticed before. “It’s you, too. You’re a great guy, even if we did get off on the wrong foot. Those four additional days I have left? I would rather spend them with you.”

Dusty was rendered speechless by Ken’s confession, delivered with great sincerity.

Maybe, Dusty thought, the man’s much more sensitive than he often comes across.

“Then it’s settled,” Dusty said. “I’m sitting on my sofa right now, caressing a big furry monster who would love to see you almost as much as I do. So get your ass over here as quickly as you can.”

Ken laughed. “I’m approaching the Bayview parking garage now. I have to get clearance to retrieve my car, then I’m on my way.” He cleared his throat. “I will have to make a quick stop at a convenience store to pick up a few toiletries. That shouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes.”

“Good idea. I don’t share my toothbrush with anyone.”

Suddenly, Dusty felt overcome with gratitude—gratitude that Ken was alive. “Hey, Ken?”

“Yes?”

Dusty inhaled deeply, as though to sequester some immense feeling. “Be safe. Please. I know you’re upset. That doesn’t always make for safe driving. But remember I’m here, waiting for you. Call me if you need anything.”

Ken swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Thanks, Dusty. You’re the best.”

About the Author 

As a Florida-based author of both fiction and nonfiction, Dann worked as an educator on both the secondary and post-secondary levels. But since high school, when he served as a reporter for the school newspaper, he’s always had a passion for both reading and writing. Dann lives in Lake Wales, FL, with his husband, Josh (also a writer) and their adorable Eskie (American Eskimo), Flurry. She's definitely part of the family, with boundless energy and appetite! Dann is passionate about scenic walks and jogs around a local lake, enjoying Walt Disney World, staying healthy, reading, streaming movies and provocative TV series (especially those based on novels!) and current events. His pronouns are he/him/his.

Social Media Links

Website/Newsletter Sign-up  |  Facebook   |   Bluesky

Instagram   |   Threads

Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

Fallen Preorder Blitz #rabtbooktours

Paranormal Romance

Date Published: April 4, 2025

 

 

He may be her salvation -- if she's willing to lose her wings all over again.

 

Livia was cast out of heaven for the crime of falling in love with a human. So what's a fallen angel to do when she meets the man of her dreams? Falling certainly has its perks.

Ty didn't expect the angel at his party to be fallen or to have a murky past. He also didn't expect her to end up in his arms. Now he's not about to let the past stand in the way of their future.

 The following excerpt contains material suitable only for readers 18+.

EXCERPT

Parties are so lame.

Livia crossed her arms and stared at the people swaying before her. Hard rock blasted from the speakers and rumbled the floor. She flicked a lock of her hair over her shoulder. Dancing, laughing, and more than enough drinking. She sighed. When was the last time she'd danced and laughed? Hell. She couldn't remember.

She wanted to dance, to wrap her arms around a torso thick with muscle, to rest her head on a taut set of pecs and hear the heartbeat of a red-blooded male like the one she'd drooled over in her history course. He'd mentioned throwing an event. She wanted to see him, to see if he was actually like the persona she'd created for him in her mind.

She snorted. Meeting a guy was probably not the best reason to attend a costume party off campus, but who cared? It wasn't like she had anyone keeping tabs on her.

A young man dressed as a gladiator ambled toward her. "Hel-lo, beautiful." A wide grin curled his lips. His blond hair flopped over his brow as he winked and pointed to her with his sloshing cup. "You shouldn't stand in the corner alone. Might get your wings dirty."

Wings? She crooked one brow. She'd come as a Madonna look-alike, not an angel. When she glanced over her shoulder, sure enough, her wings were there -- translucent, but there. Odd. "They'll wash." Her wings had been ripped off over two thousand years prior. When - and how -- the hell had they come back?

"Yeah?" He wobbled on his feet. "Feathers work in a washing machine?" He burped and his dark eyes widened. "I made a funny." He swayed again and splashed beer onto her bustier.

Livia gritted her teeth. This wasn't the man she had in mind. Her dream man didn't slop alcohol on anyone -- as far as she knew. Was the man in her mind simply a figment of her imagination? An impossibility? Probably. She'd been around far too long and seen more than her share of good men fall by the wayside.

At least washing the beer stench out of her clothes wouldn't be too difficult.

"So, do ya wanna go make out?" He licked his lips. "I'm a great kisser, and I bet you do wonders with those tits."

"Go home, Brett."

Livia's blood turned to fire in her veins. The deep, gravelly voice set her nerves on edge. If the drunken fool would just blow, she could at least see the guy who'd come to her aid. If he was Tyler from history class, then even better.

"Butt out, Ty." Brett smacked his lips. "We were gonna have sex. Me and those lovelies." He reached out, hands hovering over her chest. "Come to Brett. Again."

Again? Who was this clown? "I wouldn't have sex with you if you were the last man alive," Livia snapped and slapped his hands away. "You spilled beer on me, and you're an ass."

"You'd know." He swayed into her personal space and murmured in a much less slurred tone, "I never forgot you."

Never forgot her? What the hell was this guy drinking? She stared at the drunken gladiator. Nothing about him really stood out. Still, at her age, everything looked a little familiar. He couldn't possibly be him. Isaiah was dead. She'd seen him die over three centuries ago.

"Okay, time for Brett to go home. I don't want shit on my carpet, and she's not interested." The owner of the deep voice stepped out from behind Livia and grabbed Brett's arms. Her jaw dropped. This man was the man. The man. Tyler Wilson embodied her innermost desires, and he was right there protecting her.

Lean muscle filled out Ty's tall frame. What would it feel like to have his hands on her body? To run her fingers through his thick, dark hair and listen to him murmur dirty things as they explored each other's bodies -- what would it be like? A flash of bodies moving together and the look of sheer lust in his blue eyes filled her mind. Oh, good God, it would be almost heaven. Her pussy clenched and liquid heat coated her panties.

If he felt the heat, too. She couldn't hope to be so lucky again. The run-in with Brett or whoever he was had served as a cold reminder of what she'd fallen for and couldn't have.

Both men moved through the throng of people and disappeared. She should stick around and find out if Ty was interested or if he was just keeping an eye on his property. Not that she could blame him. Dumped beer could be murder on a sound system. Not that her opinion mattered much. She was just a partygoer like everyone else there. She folded her arms. Every moment she waited, her conscience ate into her a little more. Waiting made her look weak. It made her look needy. Was she needy?

Maybe. Damn.

No. She'd waited long enough. If he really wanted to talk to her, he'd have come back. She turned and made her way to the apartment door and rummaged through the pile of coats, looking for hers. Guys like Ty had women chasing them in swarms. She'd been witness to that every time she walked out of the Saunders Building. She wasn't going to follow him around like a damned puppy. Coat in hand, she turned toward the door. She plowed into a scantily clad tiger giggling with a cowboy.

"Watch it," the tiger snapped. "Nice wings, though. Costume outlet, or did you get them online? I've been looking for some just like them. I want a set. Michael, buy me some like that."

Livia rolled her eyes. The truth was much too involved. Obscure always worked. "I don't remember."

The cowboy tipped his hat. "Wanna join in?" He bobbed his brows, and his gaze went straight to her chest. "We're always looking for more, and looking at those boobs, you'd be one hell of a third."

"Michael! You said I was the only one," she squealed. "No more thirds."

Michael shrugged. "Can't blame me for asking." He turned his attention back to Livia. "You in?"

If they only knew what she'd done during her lifetime. "I'm good. No thanks." Livia ducked her head and stepped out into the hallway. She didn't look up until she hit the stairwell door.

Finally. Freedom.

Livia stopped on the landing and stared up at the sky through the round stairwell window. Her heart ached. He was out there somewhere. The one man to complete her. Was he still alive? Had she'd only imagined his death? Or was she doomed to walk the Earth for the rest of eternity, alone?

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. It was foolish to pine for the assumed dead, especially when they'd parted so badly. Still, Isaiah held her heart and her life in his hands, just as he'd had for the last couple thousand years.

Footsteps thumped behind her, but she didn't bother to look up.

"Angel?"

About the Author

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

 

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

Author on Instagram

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today

Out-Houses New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title: Out-Houses

Author: Kira Stone

Cover Art: Marteeka Karland

Genres: Contemporary Romance, New Releases, Romance

Themes: Age Gap (Older Man), LGBTQ+ Gay, Multicultural & Interracial, Multiple Partners /Polyamory, New Adult

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 55

This book contains material suitable only for readers 18+.

Synopsis

Out-Houses.com. The hottest gay-owned interior design business in Northern California.

When Paul joins the owners of Out-Houses.com, Alex and Toby, at their secluded cabin, it’s supposed to be a chance for them to work away from the distractions of the office. Instead Paul finds himself more distracted than ever -- and wanting to join in the fun.

Andy is late for a very important date -- with Toby, one of the owners of Out-Houses. Toby doesn’t like to be kept waiting and decides to teach Andy a lesson by giving him a spanking. Not the traditional way to start an interview, but at Out-Houses, anything goes.

Alex and Toby are great fun, but Paul wants a man of his own. Not just any man -- he’s got his sights set on Andy. Which would be fine, except Andy’s not looking his way. Or is he?

Excerpt

Out-Houses

Kira Stone

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2025 Kira Stone

“Fuck me.” There was a startled gasp, then, “Harder!”

“You want it bad, don’t you?”

The sounds of slapping flesh accompanied the masculine voices emanating from the other side of the bedroom wall. Paul groaned and rolled over. His hard-on stabbed the mattress and he groaned again, this time from pain. It was gonna be a long, exhausting week if he had to listen to his bosses, the owners of Out-Houses -- the newest, hottest gay interior designer company in Northern California -- get it on in the living room every night.

Especially given his recent, secret aspiration of becoming the meat in their cum sandwich.

“Oh, yeah. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

Must be Alex doing the begging, the little slut. Paul pictured him on his knees, his fine caramel colored ass in the air. Desperate for what satisfaction only his partner could give him.

Toby’s deep bass rumbled in response. “Heh. No worries there.”

“Oh, fuck. More. More!”

Placing a pillow over his head didn’t help stifle the erotic noises coming from the nearby room. If he had to hear it, then Paul wanted to see it. Feel it. Be fully engaged in the action. Eavesdropping was a poor substitute for sating carnal lust. Last night he’d been jet-lagged enough to fall asleep. A drag queen in full voice wouldn’t have woken him. However, after spending the day shoulder to shoulder with his gorgeous employers, hunched over a work table studying a ream of concept drawings for a gay-oriented housing project, pinned between their two rock solid bodies…

Damn. Rock solid. Just like his cock.

He was never going to get to sleep as long as he had to listen to them fuck.

Paul tossed off the sheet covering him and slipped out through the sliding glass doors onto the balcony overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He didn’t bother to dress. Dense shrubs on either side of the isolated beach house created a privacy screen from anyone walking along the cliffs. The only people he was likely to encounter were otherwise… engaged.

Two long flights of stairs descended from the deck to meet a short expanse of pristine white sand. Paul didn’t feel comfortable going near the water, in part because walking around in the dark in a strange, wild area had “potentially fatal” written all over it, but also because it took him farther away from where he really wanted to be. Inside. In the living room. On his knees. Sucking Alex’s cock while Toby pounded into him from behind.

Like that’s going to happen. Face it, Paulie, you may be ready, willing and able to bat for the home team, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get a chance to play in this ballpark.

Paul lifted his face to the ocean breeze, trying to clear his mind. He failed, miserably. No matter what lust-killing thoughts he injected into his brain, his libido returned him to the action inside. Toby’s large frame, black skin over corded muscle, wrapped around Alex’s lithe Latino body. Fucking like bunnies.

If it were just about the sex, he might have stood a chance at stemming this hormonal rampage, but Paul admired their internal qualities too. Both had high IQs and more ambition than a rookie Triple-A player after a spot on a major league bench. They were risk takers. Adrenaline junkies. And it was a good thing, because it would take as much guts as money to make their fledgling company, Out-Houses, a success.

But if anyone could do it, Toby and Alex were capable of pulling it off. Paul wasn’t sure how these two alpha males managed to work together so well, or how long their partnership, in and out of bed, could last. Meeting them through their website had been a fluke when Paul needed help with his bathroom plumbing. They’d needed an architect though, and he was ready for a change in jobs. However, the youth of their business and their relationship made signing on with them a gamble. If they broke up, chances were the company wouldn’t survive. Paul chose to take the risk with them. It was hard to walk away from a dream job.

And his dream of joining Alex and Toby during one of their lunchtime quickies.

Paul relaxed against the balcony rail. Moonlight spilled over his milk white skin, giving it a silvery sheen. He ran his hand down his chest, following the thin arrow of reddish-blond hair to his cock. In order to get any sleep at all, he’d have to appease his woodie sooner or later. Might as well be now.

But not quickly. Not something that would be over and forgotten in a minute like a quick jerk-off during a morning shower. Paul wanted to treat himself to something special. Something he’d remember for a long time to make up for the erotic ménage memories he’d have to live without.

Purchase at Changeling

Meet the Author

Kira Stone lives in a warm cave tucked away in the remote Scottish Highlands, where a small band of ever-changing heroes serves as company. As they relax in front of a roaring fire, demons dance in leather pants and angels stroke tunes from the harp strings, while the Fae stop in to share tales from other worlds. Bound by pen and imagination, these are the folk who wait to greet you from the pages of Kira's stories. Visit Kira's Website.

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $10.00 Changeling Press Gift Code! 

The Victorian Locket Book Blitz #rabtbooktours

 

A Galveston Historical Mystery

 

Cozy Mystery

 

Sarah Anne Law, affectionately known to family and friends as Sam, was playing the stalking game with her cat when she inadvertently discovered a secret compartment in her haunted Victorian home. Not only did Sam find a hidden treasure, but she also realized that their playful game aroused a long-dormant spirit. Perhaps the newly awakened spirit and one of the more disturbing hauntings in her beautiful home were connected. Did a murder occur? As Sam followed clues to unravel the 125-year-old mysteries, she unveiled the true horrors of Galveston’s deadly and gruesome past.

 

About the Author

Elefair King, a native Texan, grew up in Houston. Retired, she now lives in The Woodlands, Texas. Married for 40 years, she has one son who lives nearby. Driven by her compassion to serve others, she founded several non-profit organizations as well as served on committees and boards of many local and regional charities. Elefair loves history, especially about her beloved Texas. She frequently stops along its country roads to read historical markers when seeking new adventures.

 

Contact Link

Website

 

Purchase Link

Amazon

The Real Beltane Anthology Cover Reveal

 

Hi Roosties! Yesterday's Beltane Anthology cover reveal was an April Fool's Day prank. 

https://ornerybookemporium.blogspot.com/2025/04/beltane-anthology-cover-reveal.html

This is the real cover. All proceeds from the anthology support Quill Cottage Wildlife, a 501C3 nonprofit dedicated to rescuing orphaned wild animal babies.

Everybody wants one. You want one too! Here's how to get yours.

ebook: https://a.co/d/duijxRE

paperback: https://a.co/d/5tjydhf

In the meantime, enjoy a sample from my real anthology story. The prank post's story excerpt is just tarted-up notes for a potential future tale.

The Beltane Laundress

by C. L. Hart

The rain pounded down on a father and son walking through the tiny town of Honeycomb Grove, Colorado.

“It will be a good Mayday celebration this year, Pop,” said the lanky teenage boy. Tufts of gamboge-golden hair stuck out from his dark orchid baseball cap.

The boy’s similarly built father had graying oxide-red hair and wore a faded red baseball cap. The weary expression on his face and the look of hopelessness in sad eyes the color of a John Deere tractor matched glum words spoken with a thick German accent.

“I don’t want to dim the light in those hopeful hazel eyes. I wish I still saw life with the eyes of a tiger conquering his jungle, but today, I view the world through the eyes of an undertaker.”

The teenager was horrified to see a car barrel out of the fog as his father started across the county road.

“Pop, look out!”

The pair lost their balance on the slippery grass as the son pulled his father out of the path of the speeding vehicle. The battered cherry-red mini-SUV that pulled into the parking lot of the abandoned Honey Wash Laundromat had seen better days. A young woman no older than eighteen stepped out, regarding the pair with eyes like blue marbles peering from behind a curtain of unkempt mouse-brown hair haphazardly pulled back into a ponytail.

Want more stories supporting a good cause?

Pick up your copy of the Bog Hag Anthology today!

https://amzn.to/4h9fQUD

Insecure Writers Support Group 2 April 2025: Fight, Quest, or Get Drunk?

 

Free use image by Oberholster Venita on Pixabay

"Ready to begin our quest, Owl?"

"Oh, for sure, Leg O' Lamb. But don't you think it would be a good idea to stop at yonder tavern for a pint first?"

April 2 question - What fantasy character would you like to fight, go on a quest with, or have a beer/glass of wine with?

I found a few fabulous fantasy villains on this website.

https://www.yardbarker.com/entertainment/articles/the_25_most_formidable_fantasy_villains/s1__38791986#slide_25

Am I stupid or crazy enough to fight any of them?

I’m a 60-year-old disabled woman. During my working life, I held such jobs as bartender, waitress, nursing assistant, and nurse. I can’t carry heavy trays (or wounded combatants) anymore, but I could still pour drinks and help patch up the wounded. 

I can use magic, you say?

Well, that’s a little better, although I must admit, I’m a rank amateur. I’d summon Nyarlathotep and his daughter Yadira to help me, except that I’d need a very compelling reason to do so, or it wouldn’t turn out nice. 

Yadira and Nyarlathotep are compassionate toward those who have a real need of their services. They are trickster deities who play very nasty tricks on those who call upon them for self-serving reasons. It was April Fool’s Day yesterday, so you know they were having a field day. They may have had such a good time of it that they see no reason not to keep the party going one more day. I think I’d probably better stick to my own devices.

I don’t think I’ll piss off Saruman. Even though I’m a big hoss of a woman, those Uruk-Hai of his could easily pick me up and fling me into a pit. Also, he managed to imprison Gandalf. I don’t think I stand a chance in a fight against Saruman.

I’d best forget the whole Sauron thing as well. He’d see me coming a mile away with my weird way of walking. He’d probably hear me snuffling and sneezing too. No doubt there’s some weird pollen in Middle Earth that would set my allergies off. 

Oh yeah, there’s that quest thing hanging over my head.

Walking the long walk with the Lord of the Rings boys is a little much for this old broad. Maybe I need to skip the Middle Earth thing altogether and leave that mess to the hobbitses. I’ll head for the Wizarding World and have a beer with Harry Potter. He’s a year older than my soon-to-be thirty-five-year-old son, so he can drink now. 

Free use image by Dmitry Abramov on Pixabay

I can help Harry, Ron, and Hermione plot a few plots and scheme a few schemes against the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange and He Who Is Not To Be Named. I can concoct half-baked ideas and bake tasty treats with the best of them. The Hogwarts gang would love me.

It’s settled, then. I’m off to the Wizarding World. I may not be the most interesting side character, but I’m all in, at least as much as someone in the shape I’m in can be. Maybe I’ll even learn a little magic along the way. 

Ornery Owl Has Spoken

Free use image from Pexels on Pixabay

Ornery Owl is outstanding in her field.

Visit the Insecure Writers Support Group

https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

Pick up a copy of Nyarlathotep's Journey to learn more about the Son of Azathoth and his beloved daughter. This short story is a steal at just 99 cents.

https://bit.ly/NyJourneyAZ

Warrior Queen Teaser #rabtbooktours

LGBTQ+ Steampunk Romance

Date Published: April 4, 2025

 

A volatile cauldron of magic, love, and the empire may be on the edge of a precipice, but witches, humans, and automatons indulge in pleasures of the flesh.

 

Victoria has been dubbed by her adoring public as their Warrior Queen. Destroying her Continental enemies is nothing to the challenge she faces now. For years, the Lunarians, goblins from the moon, led by the powerful witch Mon Ilson, have been murdering humans and stealing the bodies for his followers to “adopt.”

Beautiful witch Selena Whiteheart, Mon Ilson’s human agent on Earth, is closely watched by Home Office Agent Harry Kincaid, whose loyalty to the Queen suppresses his ability to show Selena his true feelings. Spiritualist Miss Cordelia Warrington has been exploring the carnal attributes and mechanical stamina of Adam, her automaton butler. Now Selena needs Cordelia’s help, and allows herself to be entertained by the amorous pair in a steamy ménage à trois.

Meanwhile, Agent of the Queen Rachel Clayton is instantly attracted to the hauntingly handsome Major Guy Tremayne, hero of the Coronation Island disaster. Can he be trusted? She throws all caution to the wind to find out. At a crucial moment the Queen is cruelly betrayed and threatened with assassination. Selena, Rachel, and Victoria all face difficult choices as love and lust compete with their duty to the Empire.

 

Author’s Note: Enjoy Warrior Queen as a standalone tale or as part of a continuing narrative. 

 This excerpt contains material suitable only for readers 18+.

EXCERPT

 

Thwack!

Thwack!

The sound of two cane sticks striking each other reminded me of how a scant two hours ago the Home Secretary had slapped my posterior as he ravaged me. Pressed for time he’d unceremoniously bent me over his Whitehall desk, pulled down my culottes and drawers, grabbed my shoulders for leverage, and drove his prodigious erection into me with frightful force. A few minutes later he flooded my quivering cunt with his lava hot seed. It had been a perfunctory fuck, short and sharp, and my climax perversely satisfying.

My cunny still retained a fair quantity of his ejaculation, and I shifted in my seat contriving to put pressure on my fleshy nether lips to keep it from escaping. My apparently not-so-subtle contortions did not escape the notice of the fine-looking man sitting opposite me. I’d quite forgotten about him as I relived the morning’s carnal adventure. He cleared his throat which brought me back to the here and now.

I was sitting in a Buckingham Palace anteroom, and I felt my cheeks warm under the scrutiny of this ruggedly handsome and smartly uniformed officer. When I’d first arrived, he’d introduced himself as Guy Tremayne. He was in fact the famous Major of the Southern Royal Air Corps who’d distinguished himself by leading the survivors of an airship crash on Coronation Island, a frozen rock midway between Tierra Del Fuego and Antarctica. Their inspirational struggle for survival on the barren island was a true Boys Own Adventure. I’d read his file during my recent convalescence and believed Major Tremayne to be a brave and resourceful officer, respected by his men and superiors alike.

He had given me an elegant bow, took my proffered hand, and lightly brushed his lips against my knuckles. To say I was instantly attracted would be an understatement. He was the epitome of masculinity: well over six feet tall, slim, and long legged. His hips were narrow, his chest deep, and his shoulders broad. His sharply chiselled face was suntanned, and above a thin black moustache his nose was pleasantly symmetrical. The palest of blue eyes gave his countenance a strikingly mysterious and yet desirable aspect.

My cunny throbbed.

He was sitting as if he was on parade with his back straight as a board. He’d started his career in the cavalry, and I couldn’t help but imagine him in the saddle riding into battle, his sabre held high, its razor edge glinting in the sun. He’d actually seen combat, and his curly hair disguised the missing left ear, lost during a bloody skirmish in the Punjab.

Thwack! Thwack!

“Do you singlestick?” I asked him, my mouth dry, and my voice husky.

Thwack! Thwack!

The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. “Indeed, I do. The sabre is my weapon of choice.”

Singlestick fighting had been a feature of English martial life for centuries and cavalry men used it for practicing sabre strokes from horseback. Though the sport had become highly regimented, it required fast reflexes and strict discipline. I found it useful for developing forearm and wrist strength.

Thwack! Thwack!

“Perhaps we should have a bout?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Thwack! Thwack!

My cunt throbbed lustily, and inside my blouse, my nipples ached. I licked my bottom lip, slowly. “Are you residing in London?”

He threw up his hands. “Alas. I exist at the whim of the War Department.”

Thwack! Thwack!

“Then we should arrange a time soon.”

“I believe I am free tomorrow evening.”

“As it happens, so am I.”

Thwack! Thwack!

We’d just concluded arrangements to meet at a restaurant in Chelsea when the door to the anteroom opened, and a footman showed in a slim, elegantly dressed woman. She was about forty years of age, with an attractive oval face and perfect complexion accentuated by challenging hazel eyes and provocatively painted red lips. Her luxurious auburn hair was coiled expertly around her head in such a way that suggested considerable length. The bulk was held in place with gem-tipped pins which glinted in the harsh electric light. I imagined her standing naked, her hair cascading over her ample breasts, reaching and discreetly hiding her mound of Venus. I recognised her as the wife of a member of the House of Lords, and this sensual impression I’d constructed was at odds with her reputation. She was known as a straitlaced prude, active in charitable institutions and a fierce and passionate advocate for women’s suffrage. On one occasion she’d been seen at a rally striking a constable with a placard after she accused him of taking undisclosed liberties.

I curtsied. “Lady Fogerty, I’m Rachel Clayton.”

 

About the Author

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.

 

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