Incubus Teaser #rabtbooktours

 

Dark Fantasy/Horror Action Romance

Date Published: December 23, 2025

Publisher: ‎Changeling Press LLC

Life -- and love -- with a man who fights nightmares is bound to be… different.

Smart, capable, and lethal, Sarah Fenton never needed rescuing -- until she met Joe Horn and his horrifying nemesis, the muck-drippy-thing. Together they defeated that nightmare, and for the first time in decades Joe could stop running.

In the process, Sarah discovered her weakness -- Joe. The hard-as-nails woman becomes Joe’s willing sub -- his slave girl. Joe is a perfect Dom, but Sarah has even darker fantasies -- lurid, sensual and totally submissive. Sometimes, they even come to life.

Now one of them is stalking her, and she feels the awful temptation of nightmarish pleasure. The darker the fantasy, the more intense the pleasure. Pleasure stronger than any drug. Pleasure that threatens to drown her. The pleasure of surrender… to an Incubus.

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Erotica short story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

 

 The following excerpt contains material suitable only for readers 18+

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Jonathan Wright

Jongo infested her fantasies, dark, muscular, commanding. Sarah masturbated three or four times a day thinking of him coming to take her, dragging her by her hair, stumbling naked from the house, immune to his kicks and punches, honed by years of training that would kill an ordinary man.

Not ordinary, Jongo. Not him. No. Her struggles only fed his burning hunger. And hers. As now. As naked as she was, his huge cock throbbing and bouncing as he walked, his grip was casual, yet inhumanly strong.

Stronger even than Joe, whom she had called Master more often than not. But this wasn’t really about Joe…

* * *

Exhausted, struggling to keep her feet as she stumbled, Sarah gave up, then was dragged, then followed him limply, his grip in her thick hair making her walk head down, like a slave, cursing, then crying, then sobbing… please, please, please.

Please, what? The demon’s strength, already huge, increased as he stepped out of the trees onto the beach. As his foot touched the water, he dragged her upright until she stood with her head tilted back, staring up at him. He pushed her away, his hooded eyes nearly invisible in the shadows of the moon. “Kneel.” He grinned as he stroked his cock with his free hand.

Sarah stumbled and fell into knee-deep water. Rising, sputtering as water streamed down her body, defiance failed her; words choked her. She breathed heavily, staring at his cock.

“Recall how I took you before, so easily, wrapping you in my vines, my seaweed, stroking your hungry body until you begged me to take you. How I made you scream my name.”

Her legs quivered. She wanted to curse him, scream for help, for Joe to… rescue…

Sarah had never in her life needed rescuing. Except for one time…

* * *

The wind sucked her along the dirty cement floor, into the waiting maw of that THING, the muck-drippy-thing, as she steadied the pistol and emptied the fourteen-round clip into its indescribable excuse for a face as the spindly spider arms reached for her…

Then Joe was there, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her back. Stronger than any man she had ever known. Pulling her back from the edge. Saving her.

* * *

Sarah hadn’t felt weak. Not then. Not like she felt now.

Weak. So weak. Why do I feel this way? Jongo is a monster, a creature from the icy black depths of the harshest place on earth. Why do I feel so fucking hot?

She stroked her clit with one hand as she slowly sank to her knees in the warm, swirling water. She spread the fingers of her other hand and teased her nipples, shivering as she imagined being held against her will in the depths of his lair.

“You are helpless,” Jongo told her. “Helpless.” A ritual. A spell.

Yes. Helpless! Helpless! I am helpless! Her mouth fell open. She arched her back, presenting her full tits.

I have to stop. I have to be strong! “No!” she gasped in a purposely seductive parody of defiance. Wait. Purposely? Like I want this?

Jongo grinned and said nothing, continued stroking his cock. His huge, erect cock. She couldn’t stop looking at it. At him. I love cock. I love it. Joe says I’m a cock-hungry slut. I get wet when he whispers that to me.

Helpless… His voice faded, still there, still commanding. She came with a short, harsh cry as the orgasm claimed her.

Jongo laughed. “You have already surrendered. Do as I command! Keep stroking yourself!”

She did. I can’t stop. I can’t disobey him. It feels so good to obey. I want more!

“Think how my hard cock will feel in your hot, wet cunt. You will beg for it. Beg for it, woman! Beg for my cock! For when you do, when I plunge into you, you will be mine. My slave. Forever!”

Sarah came again, moaning this time, closing her eyes and thrusting hard, pushing her fingers deep into her soft tits. “Yes! Jongo, fuck me! Yes! Make me your slave! Make me your slave!”

She dropped back into the water as he fell on her, forcing her legs apart, driving his cock into her, driving her will deep down into the chill, black depths of his domain where it dissolved like tendrils of ink. She wrapped her legs around him and thrust mindlessly, screaming as she came and came and…

* * *

Sarah lay on the table on the veranda, sweating, her tits heaving, her knees spread, hips moving rhythmically up and down in time with her frantic thrusts as she came for the fifth time. “Ah, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She rammed the dildo into her cunt one final time before slowly drawing it out. Her whole body quivered, drenched in sweat, as she lowered her legs and stretched, groaning.

“Well, I think you must clean off that table before you use it for anything else.”

Sarah gasped in shock, but without shame or embarrassment.

Belle stood not three feet away, a gorgeous Jamaican woman of medium height and surpassing curves, dressed in paint spattered clothes and carrying various implements of artistic creation. “You missing your man Joe? He’s only been gone a day.” Belle arched one elegant brow for emphasis.

Sarah dropped the dildo and draped one arm over her sweaty face. “You have no idea…” Joe liked to watch her fuck herself like that. Imagining him doing so made it hotter for her.

Belle chuckled and began setting up an easel. “So hot for your Dom, you maybe forget we had an appointment to paint those luscious curves?”

 

About the Author

Jonathan Wright retired to the northeast, where he is surrounded by family and trees in about equal numbers. In his free time he enjoys thinking up erotically terrifying situations for his characters, who insist they don’t like that sort of thing. When he isn’t writing about slavering fangs in the dark he does weird-ass paintings.

He has a daughter who will admit to the relationship under duress. He puts up with her because she makes great cookies.

We don't know why she puts up with him.

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Bunny's Special Treat Preorder Blitz #rabtbooktours

 

BDSM Erotica, Contemporary, Polyamorous

Date Published: October 31, 2025

This post contains material suitable only for readers 18+. 

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Daddy Dom BDSM Erotica short story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

 

His Bunny. His rules. One night of denial becomes a lifetime of surrender.

I never dreamed being Max’s Bunny would feel like this. Owned, protected, and utterly consumed by his desire shouldn’t be the enticement, but pleasing Max, submitting to him, fulfills something inside me I didn’t know I was missing. Every touch, every command, every whispered promise reminds me I belong to him. But belonging comes with its own exquisite torment.

Daddy Jacob’s masquerade promises a night of temptation and denial, where every glance burns hotter and every stolen touch leaves me trembling on the edge. I ache for release, but Max’s rules are absolute: I come only when he allows it. And tonight, he intends to push me further than I’ve ever gone before.

Surrounded by power, lust, and dangerous devotion, I have only one truth to hold on to. I’m Max’s Bunny. Always.

 

EXCERPT

 

I traced my finger along the edge of the invitation, the gold filigree catching the late afternoon sunlight that streamed through my bedroom window. Not just any invitation. This was for Daddy Jacob’s Halloween masquerade, an exclusive gathering where only his closest circle received the embossed card resting in my trembling hands. I never would have imagined my life leading me here. A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined being Max’s bunny, his precious pet, his possession. Now, I wasn’t sure I could imagine not being Max’s bunny.

Which brought me back to the invitation. I knew I was expected to be there, but I had assumed I would go as Max’s pet. Seeing my name on my own invitation made me feel a kind of acceptance I hadn’t realized I needed. My life here wasn’t only about Max. I thought I needed Daddy Jacob and Kitten, too. Everyone in this house. We were a family. Unconventional, but all the better because we had to really listen to each other and communicate to have the level of trust we had with each other.

“Are you ready for me to dress you, Bunny?”

Max’s deep voice startled me from my reverie. He leaned against the doorframe, his imposing figure filling the space with quiet authority. He wore dark leather pants slung low on his hips and a crisp white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms roped with muscle. His blue-gray eyes caught mine in the mirror, and his lips curved into that half smile that always made my stomach flip.

“Yes,” I answered, setting the invitation down on my vanity. “Slightly nervous.”

“You’ll be perfect.” He crossed the room to stand behind me, his hands settling on my shoulders. “Let’s get you dressed.”

The costume lay spread across my bed. Max had chosen fuzzy black bunny ears with sparkling gems on the inside. My hair spiraled in waves down my back. I had taken care with my make up, using a light foundation then contouring my face in tones of dark gray to give me an otherworldly appearance.

Dark eye shadow in charcoal smeared over my eyelids and fanned out past the corners, filling in the skin around my eyes to match the jeweled, sequined, black and gold mask. I’d lined my eyes in a gold liner. Max had also laid out a slinky, shimmering black dress trimmed in gold that would swish around me loosely, held on my shoulders by barely there gemmed straps meant to look like diamonds on a thin gold chain. Hell, for all I knew, they might well be diamonds.

“Arms up,” he instructed, and I obeyed without hesitation.

The cool fabric slid over my skin as he smoothed the garment over my curves. He brushed my ribs, my back, the sides of my breasts as he worked the delicate material into place. Each touch, though seemingly casual, sent sparks shooting through me. I knew Max well enough by now to recognize when his movements were deliberately slow, calculated to build anticipation.

“This looks perfect on you,” he murmured, adjusting the straps over my shoulders. His fingers lingered on my collarbone, tracing my skin and making my breath catch. “Turn around, little Bunny.”

I pivoted slowly, allowing him to see how the dress fluttered around my curves in a gentle wave that landed above mid thigh, barely long enough to cover my ass. His eyes darkened as his gaze traveled down my form, then back up to meet mine. “You’ve always been beautiful,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “but tonight you are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever seen.”

I heated with pleasure and I smiled up at Max like he was my hero. And I suppose he was. He and Daddy Jacob.

“You’re trembling,” he observed.

“The invitation is… a lot,” I admitted. “Everything.” The truth was more complicated. His touch, his proximity, the anticipation of what would come later, all combined to leave me dizzy with anticipation. And so fucking horny I thought I might die if I didn’t get relief! I smiled up at him. “But I’m good. Better than even.”

 

About the Author

Welcome to Wanda Violet O.'s world of bedtime fantasy, where you'll find a variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play... she's got it all. Come take a look for yourself!

 

Wanda on Facebook

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Their Reluctant Mate Book Blitz #rabtbooktours

 

This post contains material suitable only for readers 18+.

Dark Romance, Shifter Romance

Date Published: January 24, 2025

 

They tamed her in public. They'll claim and share her in private.

 

Within moments of being given as a mate to three fearsome shifters, Lexie was stripped bare, spanked for her defiance, and then brought to a shameful climax with their whole village watching.

But as she's carried off with her punished ass still sore inside and out, it's not what these savage beasts did to her in public that's on her mind.

It's what they're going to do to her once they have her all to themselves.

 

Publisher's Note: Their Reluctant Mate is a stand-alone romance which is the first book in the Rydarian Mates series. It includes spankings and rough, intense sexual scenes. If such material offends you, this might not be the book for you.

About the Author

 

Ivy writes sci-fi and paranormal erotica with strong romantic themes. She lives in beautiful Boulder, Colorado and enjoys hearing from readers. Contact her through her website. ivybarrett.com

 

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Ryker Pre-Order Blitz #rabtbooktours

 

Erotic Romance, Age Gap

Date Published: July 4, 2025

Content Advisory:

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

Doesn’t matter that Laken is Flicker’s sister, and a virgin. I always get what I want, and Laken is mine!

Ryker: After 20 years in the military, I find myself doing my dad’s dirty work. But as the “prince” of the Hades Abyss MC, it’s expected of me. Doing a little recon in a small Alabama town should have been boring as shit, until the hot little minx I met at a bar turned my life upside down. Women always fall at my feet, but this one’s different. If I’d known she was a virgin, I might have backed away, but now that I’ve had a taste I want to keep coming back for more. Little did I realize that I’d just fucked the sister of a Dixie Reaper, and my life’s about to become all kinds of complicated. I have to wonder… had she fucked me because she wanted me? Or is it all some kind of setup?

Laken: My big brother Flicker is always ruining my fun, keeping the guys away from me, so when I finally get a chance for a hot guy to get rid of my V-card, I’m all for it. Ryker’s hot and has that alpha vibe, and the fact he’s ex-military just makes me wetter. It never occurred to me that he was a biker, or that I might have just screwed up a big deal for the Dixie Reapers. It seems my sexy Ryker isn’t just some hot military guy. No, he’s the son of the President of the Hades Abyss MC. So I hide like big brother asks me to. Just one problem… Ryker doesn’t leave, and now I’m late. How am I supposed to tell Ryker that I’m carrying his child? When life fucks me over, it does it royally.

 

EXCERPT

I threw back another shot of whiskey, and slammed the glass down on the bar top. It was my tenth. Or was it twelfth? I'd lost count somewhere along the way, but I wasn't even remotely drunk. There was a slight warmth spreading through me, but I was one hundred percent in charge of my actions. So when I slid my hand up the back of the thigh of the hottie standing next to me, yeah, that was all me. What can I say? That sweet, curvy ass of hers was calling to me.

She slowly turned her head to look at me over her shoulder as my hand slipped up farther, sliding under the hem of her too short dress. Mmm. No panties. I gave her ass cheek a squeeze and watched as heat flared in her eyes. Whatever schmuck she'd been talking to was forgotten as she turned to face me. Oh yeah. The front matched the back. Nice, luscious breasts that were barely contained by the stretchy top of her dress, and damn if her nipples weren't poking through.

"Normally a guy buys me a drink before he grabs my ass," she said.

"Guess I'm not a normal guy."

She reached out and fingered the dog tags that I still wore, despite the fact I'd been out of the service for a month. "No, soldier, you certainly aren't."

"Marine," I said.

She bit her lip and moved in a little closer. "Guess that makes you something of a badass, doesn't it?"

I smirked and squeezed her ass again. "Something like that."

She reached out and rubbed a hand down my chest, her fingers trailing across my abs and stopping at my belt buckle. I could tell she liked what she saw, and I damn sure liked the way she filled out her dress. It would look even better bunched around her waist while I fucked her.

"You're so big and strong," she said with a purr.

"Oh, baby. You have no idea."

I slid my fingers farther down the curve of her ass until they teased her pussy. She was already wet and so damn slick, and she looked like just the type of girl who would let me fuck her in the bathroom. I knew the type, and those hard nipples and wet little pussy told me that she wanted me bad enough to let me do whatever I wanted. Women tended to fall at my feet, always had, and this one wasn't going to be an exception. Kneeling was a good place for them, easier access for sucking my cock.

"Bigger doesn't mean better," she said. "It's all in how you use it."

"I know how to use it. I can make you scream my name all night long."

She shrugged. "Maybe you can and maybe you can't."

Oh, I could. It was a proven fact. Women always screamed in ecstasy whenever I was pounding into their pussies, or anywhere else I pleased. They begged me for it.

"What's your name, sugar?"

"Laken."

"I'm Ryker. What do you say we get to know one another a little better?" I stroked her pussy again, letting my fingers dip inside. She bit her lip, and a flush started creeping up her chest. I'd be willing to bet I could get her off right here and now.

"Maybe I'm not that kind of girl," she said, her voice dropping as I stroked her some more.

"Honey, my fingers are coated in your cream, right here in front of everyone. I bet I could get you so turned-on, you'd let me fuck you anywhere I pleased. Just bend you over the bar and take what I wanted." I smirked. "In any hole I wanted."

She gasped, but her eyes dilated, and I knew she'd liked the idea. Naughty girl.

 

About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book. She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies. Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and don't forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts and other exciting perks.

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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

 

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Captive Mate Book Blitz #rabtbooktours

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

Alpha Authority, Book 1

 

Erotic Romance, Shifter Romance, Sci Fi Romance

Date Published: April 2, 2025

 

 

Lauren’s reward for challenging the pirate commander is a bright red bottom and humiliating arousal. Now the huge alpha shifter intends to claim her as his mate and share her with his beta.

It will take three days to reach their planet, and she must submit to their every desire. If she still wants to leave when they arrive the alpha has agreed to let her go. But with each shattering orgasm and dark pleasure they share, Lauren finds herself craving more of her captors’ touch.

 

Trigger warnings: Captive Mate includes spankings and rough, intense sexual scenes. If you are offended by such material, please choose a different book.

About the Author

Ivy writes sci-fi and paranormal erotica with strong romantic themes. She lives in beautiful Boulder, Colorado and enjoys hearing from readers. Contact her through her website.

 

Contact Links

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In Her Sanctum Book Blitz #rabtbooktours

 

Lesbian Romance, Lesbian Fiction

Date Published: March 3, 2025

 

 

They’re opposites in the widest degree.

Elise Hahnfeld is the ‘perfect’, obedient, high-performing office worker. She’s been a doormat for so many years it felt second-nature, but she’s growing exasperated at the drudgery of her normal life, her job that’s taken more from her than she can afford to give. If only someone was there to show her a different path, one where the unknown can be exciting instead of terrifying. Someone who could distract her from the mundane. When Elise loses everything, desperation drives her to do something unthinkable.

She gives up control to a dominant woman with a taste of the forbidden.

Sierra Kernan isn’t a stereotypical Mistress. She’s masculine, cocky… and exactly Elise’s type. Sierra is a barber-turned disciplinarian with a body that could turn even the straightest woman into a flustered mess with just a command. Sierra is everything that Elise isn’t: confident, strong, and self-assured.

When their paths meet, Elise realizes that Sierra isn’t the revered Mistress she claims, but a woman with a dark past. Sierra’s jealous twin sister Abi is a toughened mercenary determined to make their lives a whole lot messier.

It’s a delicate dance of trust and submission. Elise is repressing a feistiness that only Mistress Sierra knows how to tame… but who says that being tamed is a bad thing?

About the Author

I'm an indie author, gamer, cat lover and geek culture consumer. I work as an IT technician. I'm creatively-wired and love technology.

I started writing as a hobby, poetry and creative writing, and then I branched out into writing novels. There were a lot of unfinished drafts that never materialised, until I finally found myself, seemingly out of nowhere, writing and fleshing out an entire novel. The ideas flowed, and so too did the words on the page.

Six years later, I have returned with an entirely new direction and narrative style. I focus on writing sapphic, lesbian stories that I feel are often underrepresented in media and especially on bookshop shelves.

Allowing the reader to have the freedom to interpret things in their own mind plays a part in my overall writing style. My writing isn't always black and white, but symbolic and colourful. I find power in writing strong, capable female protagonists.

 

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Chasing Magic Pre-Order Blitz #rabtbooktours

 

Not In Use (#1)

 

LGBTQ, Dark Fantasy, Romance

Date to be Published: April 25, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

Love -- and Magic -- find desperate lovers in unlikely places.

Chase: It is a madness that draws Chase to the Louisiana bayou, leaving his sister and his art studio behind. The fact that he longs to strip off his clothes and run naked through the swamp with the wild creatures who live there isn't his first clue that something isn't right with him... but it just might be his last.

A Painter's Price: Jason has studied the Painter for years, but when he finally meets Eric he's not prepared for the powerful erotic feelings the artist provokes in him. His need to touch Erik slowly overrides every other, until there is nothing he can do but surrender, mind, body and soul.

Rythan's Becoming: Rythan knows he must harness his sexual energy and burn through his shell to truly Become an adult. But Becoming also requires the help of his catalysts, a pair of adults he's never met, and water doesn't combine easily with fire and air. Can Rythan pass the final test and meet his Destiny?

 

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

Excerpt from A Painter's Price

Copyright ©2025 Kira Stone

 

This is one fine orgy. The self-congratulatory thought filtered through Erik's lust-fueled mind as he licked expensive red wine off the impressive cock bobbing before his lips. Who his mystery lover was, Erik couldn't say. He had a nice meaty shaft, though. Not terribly long, but wide enough to split a man open. Erik's sphincter spasmed just from imagining the feel of that thick cock sliding into him.

Salty-sweet pre-cum hit his tongue. He gave his lover's ass a slap to bring forth another drop. Nectar of the gods, as far as Erik was concerned. Every man tasted different, and yet he loved them all.

"Oh, fuck me," the man whimpered around his mouthful of Erik's cock.

"Not this time."

The spirit was willing, but the body grew weak. He'd been going at it, in one form or another, for several days now. The need for a long, uninterrupted sleep gnawed at him. He was hard pressed to keep his eyes open. Silently promising to make it up to his lover later, if he remembered, Erik sucked in earnest.

His lover attempted to return the attention. Erik winced as teeth caught his sensitive skin. All the more reason to end this quickly, he decided. At the moment, this man needed more education than he had the patience for.

His lover bucked and groaned under him. It didn't take long to coax him into orgasm. Seed spilled across Erik's tongue in a honey-sweet river. He drank down every last drop, feeling it was his due for the hard work he'd put in.

Under his guidance, the man continued to pleasure him with hand and mouth. Finally a weak orgasm rolled through Erik in quiet surrender, proving he'd been right about his need for a lengthy respite. He might have stayed awake long enough to mumble a word of praise before he lost himself in the warm, dark embrace of sleep.

* * *

A cool breeze ripped through the room some time later. The long brocade curtains surrounding the bed writhed, and the firelight flickered as though it were about to die in its wake. That alone would not have disturbed Erik from his well-earned slumber. No, a great booming voice startled him out of a deep sleep.

"Since you love your art above all else, I hereby sentence you to an eternity of creation."

"What?" Fear trickled through the horrible hangover clouding Erik's brain. Though he couldn't yet see the shadowy figure standing beside the bed through his bloodshot eyes, he recognized the voice. The king's mage was not pleased, and that was never a good thing.

"For the rest of your life, you will produce some of the finest art ever created."

Well, that didn't sound so bad. Painting was, after all, his passion. "Errrr… thank you."

A sneer entered the mage's voice as he continued. "Your creative energies will be your only sustenance. You will not eat or drink or sleep. You will not be troubled by mortal weaknesses except on the one night a year when the price of being the greatest painter alive must be paid to me, a fragment of your inner spirit to be given to a vessel of my choosing. You will exist solely to create… until your soul is empty."

Now that last bit seemed a little extreme. Honestly, Erik didn't know what good his soul was doing for him, but he didn't think it would be wise to go around without one. "Is that really necessary? Painting is all I'm good at anyway."

"Painting… and debauchery. The king has lost all patience with the discord you create among his court with your callous, self-indulgent behavior. Could you not even leave the livestock alone?" the mage muttered with disgust.

"That wasn't me," Erik protested as he tried to extract himself from the tangle of limbs pinning him down. A small corner of his brain wondered again who the bed belonged to, how long he'd been in it, and if his host's largess would hold out until he had a bite of bread and cheese, maybe another mug of wine.

"Not in body, perhaps, but the act was done with your encouragement. You sow depravity into the souls of the good people of this land, leaving a trail of broken marriages and broken hearts behind. The king will have no more of this debauchery!"

"I hardly think all the consequences of the court's questionable behavior can be blamed on me." Erik looked around for his clothes, a little intimidated to be talking to the king's mage without a stitch on. However, every garment he found smelled rank with spent passion. He flipped the bed curtain over his lap instead. "I enjoy a good party. What soul doesn't? That's human nature, not a crime."

"The evidence is quite plain, and the king has rendered his judgment. He left it to me to determine your punishment. After a fortnight of observation, I see the only way to change your ways is to give you exactly what you desire."

Warning bells clamored in his head, but Erik couldn't puzzle out exactly what about that statement troubled him. "Would the king be satisfied if I left the city for a few weeks?" Surely he could convince one of the rich lords in the outlying districts to keep him sheltered and fed for a month.

"Your departure might satisfy him, but it will not satisfy me. From this day forth, you will breathe art, dine on creative passion, and survive as long as your depraved, artistic soul can sustain you." The mage's robes rippled as if an angry fall wind had whirled around him. "As I will it, so mote it be," the mage intoned with an earth-shaking power.

And, just like that, Erik's life transformed.

 

About the Author

Kira Stone has been around the block…the writer’s block, that is.

From vamps and witches to historical heroes, from futuristic scientists to paranormal corporate executives, from Canadian werewolves to off-world shifters, Kira has written about them all. Manlove has sparked hot and heavy in many of her plots, but Kira also finds a lucky lady to keep the sexy heroes company from time to time. While Scotland remains her favorite place in the world, Kira is constantly in search of new adventures to add to the creative primordial ooze where her best stories are born.

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Nothing But the Night New Release Blitz #GayBookPromotins

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Nothing but the Night (Basic Instincts Book 2)

Author: Thom Collins

Publisher: Entwined Publishing

Cover Artist: Kelly Martin

Release Date: April 8, 2025

POV/Tense: third person/past tense

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance, mystery/suspense/thriller

Tropes: detective, murder mystery, crime, erotic romance, suspense 

Themes: family, secrets, sex work

Heat Rating:  4 flames

Length: 64 958 words/253 pages

It is a standalone story that is part of a wider series. 

It does not end on a cliffhanger.

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Be careful what you look for in the night.

Blurb

Three months after the death of his brother, Marc Glass faces a whole new dilemma. A tabloid journalist has made a connection between Theo and a prominent politician. Theo’s death might not be all it seems. Marc knew all about his brother’s secret sex work, but it’s a scandal that would destroy his family, who have already suffered enough.

Private Detective Jason Durham might be the answer. Marc enlists Jason’s agency to look into Theo’s unsolved murder. The police investigation is dead, but if they can solve the case on their own, they could head off the potentially damaging story. Marc isn’t sure who he can trust with the details of Theo’s life, but Jason seems like the man.

As secrets are uncovered, Marc and Jason must fight their attraction to each other, but when their prime witness is murdered, they are suddenly caught in a web of mystery and increasing danger.

As the nights grow darker, will either of them make it until morning?

Excerpt

Marc saw him fully for the first time and was startled. At forty-four, it had been a long time since he’d been instantly affected by the physical appearance of a man, but Jason was stunning. It was his large, expressive eyes that first drew him in. They were a pale shade, somewhere between green and blue, and they gave a boyish quality to his masculine face. His dark-blond hair was swept to the right, short at the back and sides with a little length on top. He had a well-trimmed beard, brown and seasoned with flecks of grey. His mouth was wide. Marc had the most insane urge to kiss it. When he smiled, he revealed a small gap between his two front teeth, which only made him even sexier.

The body beneath his clothes was fit. More athletic than muscled, and there was an almost military bearing about his posture, with his shoulders back and his chest held proudly.

Jason sat and leaned across the file on his desk, looking at the notes, granting Marc a peek down the open neck of his shirt, and a tantalising hint of chest hair.

Get hold of yourself. Remember the reason you are here.

“So, this is about your brother?” Jason said, reading the file. Marc had given the briefest summary of his case to Olivia when he’d called to make the appointment yesterday.

“Yes, but it’s probably not what you’re thinking. My brother isn’t missing or anything like what you’re used to dealing with.”

Jason looked at him with wide, reassuring eyes. “There’s no such thing as a usual case in this business. Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what the problem is.”

Marc sighed. The beginning. He didn’t even know where that was. “Theo died in December. Down on the waterfront by the Vermont Hotel? You probably heard about it. He was killed by a car as he crossed the road in front of the hotel. Some of the witnesses say the car drove straight at him, but the police were never convinced.”

Jason pushed the file to one side. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Yes, I remember it. There must have been CCTV coverage. There are cameras all along the waterfront. And at the hotel too.”

“There are, but it’s inconclusive whether the car changed course to hit him or not. The resolution of the images isn’t great. I must have watched it a million times and even I can’t decide on what I’m seeing.”

“I take it the driver was never caught. Do you want me to investigate further? See if I can track them down?”

Marc shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here. It’s more…complicated than that. The car was discovered burned out a few miles away. It was stolen and they never found the driver. Have you heard of Nadine Smythe? The journalist.”

Was that a tiny twitch at the corner of Jason’s mouth?

Jason nodded. “Of course. Blyham’s finest.” There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his tone.

“She came to visit me yesterday. She’s conducting her own investigation into Theo’s death… Theo’s murder.”

About the Author 

Thom Collins is the author of the Jagged Shores series and the Anthem Trilogy as well as numerous standalone novels and novellas. 

His new series Basic Instincts launches in spring 2025 with the novel Now Comes the Dark.

Thom has lived in the North East of England his whole life. He grew up in Northumberland and now lives in County Durham with his husband and two cats. He loves all kinds of genre fiction, especially bonk-busters, thrillers, romance and horror. He is also a cookery book addict with far too many titles cluttering his shelves. When not writing he can be found in the kitchen trying out new recipes. He’s a keen traveler but with a fear of flying that gets worse with age, but in 2013 he realized cruising is the best way to see the world.

Check out his website for news updates and a free ebook The Night.

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Beneath the Skin Teaser Tuesday #rabtbooktours

 

(Empire of the Sky 5)

 

Steampunk Romance

Date Published: 11/29/24

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

Soulmates? Or simply lovers? Selena and Nancy hope their paramours can see beneath the skin.

 

Selena Whiteheart has her hands full. The malignant witch, Lady Neva, has kidnapped her lovers, Jacob McCleary and Captain Kit Colby. While keeping her Home Office handler, Harry Kincaid, satisfied in every way, Selena vows to rescue them, but first she must contend with a mesmerised assassin.

Meanwhile Nancy Lea, envoy in human form of the goblin king, Mon Ilson, Emperor of Space, has failed in her bid to secure peace. Queen Victoria has sent her packing with a flea in her ear. With her lover and protector, Captain Jaimee Dalgliesh, she returns to the moon to report. With three days to kill, Nancy teaches Jaimee the joys of weightless lovemaking. However, Jaimee comes face to face with a real goblin. Can he overcome his visceral disgust and love the soul beneath Nancy's stolen skin?

The soul of Agent Felicity Cressy, murdered by Lady Neva, finds a safe haven in Nancy's mind. Will Mon Ilson return her to her body, and what does he expect in return?

 THE FOLLOWING EXCERPT CONTAINS MATERIAL SUITABLE ONLY FOR READERS 18+.

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Mikala Ash

 

Selena Whiteheart

1867 -- A Vixen in the Mist

 

I am a duplicitous witch.

Like Janus, the mythological god of beginnings and endings, I present different faces to the world. I began as Marjorie Fletcher, a naïve country virgin murdered for my body by hideous goblins. My homeless soul found refuge in the mind of Cressida Troy, with whom I fell in love. Inevitably I also lost my heart to her fiancé, Jacob McCleary, and I experienced lovemaking for the first time through Cressida. Now, as Selena Whiteheart, human agent of Mon Ilson, the goblin king and self-styled Emperor of Space, and owner of the empire’s greatest airborne gambling and bawdy house, I love the handsome and brave Captain Kit Colby.

I stood at my fireplace staring at the likenesses of Jacob and Kit inside a gold locket. I’d drawn both myself, and think I captured their essential differences rather well. Jacob, the former schoolteacher, whose intelligent gaze signified his thoughtful and considerate nature both in and out of bed, had given me my first experience of lovemaking, albeit vicariously. He was now estranged from Cressida Troy after the murder of Fleur Cumberland, which I had orchestrated. Kit, on the other hand, was a lusty warrior, a decorated hero of the savage air war against Prussia and the Hungarian Empire. As befitting his martial nature, Kit was both forceful and deliberate in his lovemaking.

I was lost for a few moments in a warm memory of passionate kisses, entwined tongues, probing fingers and hard, thrusting cocks before a wave of fear coursed through me. Tears threatened to flow as I traced their images.

I was not alone in my office. I was dimly aware of the earnest little man jabbering about an invention of his. I didn’t care about Mr. Frasier. I was immersed in a sea of despair, and the peril my charade placed not just Jacob and Kit in, but me also.

Both Jacob and Kit were captives of Lady Neva Talbot-Rhys, a powerful witch hell-bent on killing Queen Victoria. Lady Neva held the Queen responsible for her lover’s death during England’s devastating military reprisal against Prussia. I understood her wanting revenge. I felt the same about her.

I had to get them back. Lady Neva was a merciless malevolent maniac, capable of wholesale slaughter -- I’d witnessed that firsthand. My heart chilled at the thought of what horrors Jacob and Kit were suffering at her evil hands.

I wanted desperately to believe they still lived. Why else would Lady Neva kidnap them but to use them for some nefarious purpose?

Jacob had been sent by Mon Ilson to add weight to his envoy Nancy Lea’s mission to arrange a demonstration of his ultimate weapon. Lady Neva had stumbled upon Jacob during her search for Kit, and being a skilled mind reader, she would have instantly known Jacob’s value. That would have been a surprise to her, no doubt. But she was not one to miss an opportunity to cause the Queen even greater problems. She had intended to kidnap Nancy Lea as well, but fortunately she had escaped. I believed Lady Neva had probably gone to Europe to sell Jacob’s knowledge to one of Britain’s host of enemies. If that was the case, then Mon Ilson’s carefully laid plans could be wrecked and chaos would ensue, resulting in the deaths of millions. Frustratingly, our overseas agents had not detected any sign of Lady Neva. She had disappeared like a vixen in the mist.

I shuddered and took in a ragged breath of despair at what she would do to Kit. Unlike Jacob, who had political value, poor Kit she could torture at her leisure. Kit had become the object of her revenge after thwarting her plan to use the Prince of Wales to kill the Queen.

For the time being, as Selena Whiteheart, I do the bidding of the goblin king, the most powerful witch in history. For the moment our goals aligned. He too wanted Lady Neva found, for her determination to kill Queen Victoria threatened to derail his own plans of conquest.

My service to Mon Ilson requires a significant amount of time and energy, for I must hide my true intentions from him by burying them deep within my consciousness. I hate Mon Ilson. His goblins had murdered me, and then stolen my body from the grave. While I obeyed his commands, I secretly supported his overthrow by Cressida Troy, now his empress, another human with another name: Nil Ilson.

Cressida had saved my soul. Or rather my nascent magical abilities had led me to her, and her mind became my temporary safe haven. Then my magical powers were like a seed, waiting for water and heat. Unwittingly Mon Ilson supplied those himself, for when he read Cressida’s mind, he had detected me and recognised my potential as a servant. Like Pandora he opened the box of magic and let me absorb as much as I could hold.

To regain my body, I had enchanted both Cressida and Mon Ilson into believing they loved each other and convinced her to prove her loyalty to him so he would return my soul to my body. As my puppet, Cressida killed the most powerful human witch, Fleur Cumberland. Mon Ilson repaid me by returning my soul to my body and sending me to Earth to prepare the way for his conquest. I had confessed my perfidy to Cressida, hoping she would work with me to resist him. Cressida married Mon Ilson, and adopted the name Nil Ilson, and the title Empress of Space.

Mon Ilson’s plan to overthrow the British Empire required the co-opting of Queen Victoria. He meant to use the vast infrastructure of her empire to take over the world with hardly a fight. So, for the time being I’d be his enthusiastic cat’s paw until I could help Nil Ilson, Cressida, defeat him.

But first I have to find Jacob and Kit.

“Ahem. Er. Miss Whiteheart?”

The clearing throat and hesitant voice reminded me of Mr. Frasier’s presence. I closed the locket and turned to face the untidily dressed, red-haired little man. Before I’d lost myself in my own thoughts, he’d been enthusiastically engaged in a technical monologue about his new invention.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, returning the locket to my bosom. “Pray continue.”

He cleared his throat again, and after taking a deep breath began to list the benefits of his new gadget, a tamperproof roulette wheel.

“It will kill any accusation of fraudulence,” he had begun.

As if the honesty of my tables had ever been in question. The idea that I would be accused of cheating was insulting, but I continued to listen with feigned interest.

His name was David Frasier, a middle-aged inventor and factory owner from Edinburgh. He’d been introduced to me by Special Branch agent and my latest lover, Harry Kincaid. After making the introductions, Harry had excused himself, saying he had to send a message to his club.

That was a lie. The murky shade of Harry’s aura had given him away. I knew he was listening at the door. He’d asked me to be nice to Frasier as he was trying to recruit him as a spy. He visited the continent often, doing business with some prominent politicians and industrialists. The introduction to me would put Frasier in Harry’s debt.

It was for that reason I resigned myself to listen without objection to the fellow’s insulting proposition.

Frasier stopped in mid-sentence. He had been enthusiastically describing his contrivance, something to do with building a miniature mechanical computational device invented by Charles Babbage, when his face had become flushed, and beads of perspiration formed on his forehead. His hands started to tremble, and his final words ended in a slur. His aura had, in an instant, transformed into a seething pulsating muddy blob, the colours bubbling through each other in a roiling mass. A moment before it had been quite normal, nervous perhaps, and very excited, but that is not unusual in men meeting me for the first time, and after all, he was trying to make a sale. The transition had been so abrupt, so unnatural, I reached out to his mind to see the cause. I sensed despair, and most of all, mind-numbing fear. Hardly a coherent thought peeked through. The one that did was unmistakable.

“Mr. Frasier, don’t do this!” I put a suppression spell over him. “Whatever it is, I can help.”

 

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.

 

Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

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

 

Preorder Today

Come Fill Me

 

COME FILL ME

BOOK ONE – THE PROPHECY

Erotic Urban Fantasy Romance

AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DL3T3JBF

Blurb:

She can heal the dying…

Two men—enemies of her people—will stop at nothing to have her gift, her desire and love

The Prophecy, Book 1

Trapped in a blood feud, Liz uses her healing power to bring Zeke Neekoma from the brink of death so her clan can exploit his prophecies. During the ceremony, she drapes her nudity over his, experiencing his building strength, the stunning pleasure of his caress as he takes her without warning, using her as he wills.

His hunger for a woman he’s supposed to hate isn’t what Zeke expected, nor does he intend to deny himself. Kidnapping Liz, he’s resolved that she heal his brother Jacob ambushed by her people. At his stronghold, Zeke keeps Liz captive to his and Jacob’s desires. The brothers pleasure her without restraint and in ways she’s never known. Before, her life was filled with loneliness and wanting. Now…

Used by two powerful men, threatened by her clan’s determination to get her back, Liz risks all as she surrenders to Zeke’s and Jacob’s lust, the ecstasy of their touch and her most traitorous needs.

EXCERPT 

He lay in the center of the king-sized bed. His breaths were quiet, his eyes closed, legs sprawled, one arm draped over his head as though he was sleeping.

The bullet holes in his muscular left pec contradicted that notion.

Forcing down a swallow, Liz pulled her attention from his wounds—three perfect black circles—to his face.

Her lips parted on a quiet sigh. Rarely had she seen a man wear such a look of serenity. So unlike the terror she’d witnessed on Carreon’s features or those of his men when they’d been so close to death.

Zeke Neekoma was different. The words boyish and innocent came to mind, which Liz dismissed quickly.

Looking to be in his early thirties, he was no boy. Nor was he innocent. His size, surely six-three, his sharp, masculine features and powerful form were perfect for battle against men and pleasure with women.

Heat suffused Liz, making her limbs feel heavy and weak. She recalled what Carreon and his men had told her about Zeke, no doubt a mixture of truth and lies. Not knowing which was which, she moved deeper into the dimly lit room. Spanish-style lamps created pools of honeyed light, giving the space a sacred feel one might experience in a church. The cherry-wood four-poster dominated the sparsely furnished chamber, while a series of leather wing chairs—reserved for observers—circled the bed.

The man who’d been guarding Zeke left the room. Carreon and his men went to their seats, their weight causing the chairs’ legs to scrape against the polished hardwood floor.

For one foolish moment, Liz thought the intrusive noise would cause Zeke to open his eyes and lose his blissful expression. That he’d ask why they’d pulled him from such blessed rest and what appeared to be happiness.

This man didn’t want to be healed. Liz knew it in her soul; saw it in the upward curve of his beautiful mouth. Was he the same as her father, tired of fighting? Or was he welcoming the end so he could reunite with someone he’d loved?

His parents and siblings, perhaps…or a wife.

A new rush of warmth stung Liz’s chest.

Disturbed by the sensation and her aching loneliness—the need for a powerful yet good man at her side—Liz recalled what Carreon’s lieutenants had claimed the first night she’d come here.

“He’ll murder our women and children so our line dies out, just as his kind have always wanted.”

If that was the truth, then Zeke was no different from Carreon, who hunted the weakest, eliminating them first. Once more, she examined Zeke’s face, lingering on his mouth. Instead of a sneer or a smirk, she imagined him smiling at her, his grin honest, reaching his eyes, his wanting of her obvious and—

Stop it.

What was the matter with her, indulging in a romantic fantasy when she was well aware of their people’s conflict and unending hatred for each other? Even if Zeke wasn’t a murdering psychopath, he wasn’t likely to be stirred by a woman from an enemy clan. So why was he affecting her like this? Was it a power he had…or something else. Perhaps the truth as to who he really was?

Ignoring her persistent longing, Liz replaced it with a healthy dose of distrust. “This is Zeke Neekoma?”

“You sound surprised,” Carreon said. “Why?”

About Tina:

Tina’s an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes passionate romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. She’s won Readers’ Choice Awards, was named a finalist in the EPIC competition, received a Book of the Year award, The Golden Nib Award, awards of merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competitions, and second place in the NEC RWA contests. She’s featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

On a less serious note: she’s an admitted and unrepentant chocoholic, brakes for Mexican restaurants, and has been known to moan like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally while wolfing down tostadas. She’s flown a single-engine airplane (freaking scary), rewired an old house using an ‘electricity for dummies’ book, and is horribly shy despite the hot romances she writes.

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Website/Blog: https://tinadonahuebooks.blogspot.com/

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