Love shifters, werewolves, and hot guys?

Genres: Box SetsDark FantasyNew ReleasesParanormalRomanceUrban Fantasy

Themes: Bisexual and MoreElves, Dragons & Magical Creatures2GayInterracialShapeshiftersVampires

Series: A Pack of His Own (#1)

Multiverse: Searchlight (#1)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 518

Price: $5.99  $4.79

A psychic vampire, werewolves, and war with TruWolves terrorists – how can they find time for love?

Hunter’s Claim: Luis Delgado, psychic vampire, can deal with lust. That’s one of the fun parts of being a psychic vampire. What he can’t handle is falling in love with the half wolf who wants nothing to do with him.

Almost nothing. Charlie can’t resist the sex. But Charlie has become alpha of an eros pack, whom he must protect at all costs, and the TruWolves terrorist group wants to destroy everyone who supports peace between the straight and LGBT wolves. How can there be time for love?

Tracker’s Fate: Ethan is afraid his job as a tracker — execution chief among his duties — will keep other wolves away and cripple his soul. Jeremy wants children. He is not bisexual, though, and can’t imagine seeking out a female wolf just to have pups.

When these two are thrown into a murder mystery where the bystanders are not so innocent, can Ethan and Jeremy find their way to true love?

 

EXCERPT:

August in Tampa, Florida, shouldn’t exist in a universe with sane physical laws. August in the dry heat of the Southwest made sense. The widely variable season that passed for summer in the far Northeast was to be expected. But the 100 percent humidity on top of 105-degree temperatures of Tampa were suited only for Spain and its neighbors. The countries where Luis Ramón Delgado’s family had come from.

Well, most of his family. His closest family — mother, brother, two aunts, and half a dozen cousins — came from Puerto Rico. They were the black sheep of the Delgado clan. His father had been the same up until the bastard had left his wife and married a proper Spanish psychic vampire.

Puerto Rico was hot and sticky like the west coast of Florida. But at least Luis’s island home possessed merciful breezes.

Yes, he thought as he leaned against the alley wall and listened to the psychic world around him. But in Florida it rains almost every afternoon. I simply detest oppressive heat, and I would be as miserable at home as I am here.

Not that he was exactly miserable. Atrocious weather aside, Florida in general — and her cities in particular — gave birth to a continual supply of food. All he had to do when hungry was walk out his apartment door, turn left, wander about six blocks, and misery would surround him.

Luis moved behind a Dumpster as two teenage kids stalked past. He was hungry now, and their postures bespoke a feast of negativity and self-aggrandizement. But…

Yes. But. He was on duty. And while it might be twenty minutes or more before Ethan returned with a report on the location of the TruWolves terrorist cell, Luis must be ready in case his tracker partner arrived early. Ethan Warner wouldn’t turn him in for unauthorized feeding, but neither did Luis want to put the werewolf in that uncomfortable position unless there was no other choice.

He stepped away from the Dumpster and looked both ways in the alley for Ethan’s wolf form. Another downside to Tampa in August — at least this August; he couldn’t say he’d particularly noticed before — was its lack of wolf-scent-carrying wind. Just a whisper of Ethan’s location would do.

Had his tracker partner been gone too long?

As had happened during the past year or so, fears of Ethan being captured by Gary Gavin, the founder and matriarch of the TruWolves, tried to scramble Luis’s thoughts. And as he had a hundred times before, he set the fear aside, grasping at a bit of amusing contradiction to ease his troubled mind.

Gary Gavin. Gigi to some, and matriarch to me, isn’t male. Or female. Sai is a different gender. He wasn’t tempted to laugh because sai, when used by transgender werewolves, was the loose equivalent of the human term “intersex.” To Luis’s way of thinking, everyone had a right to declare their gender and/or sexual orientation as they saw fit. No, he was amused by the word sai itself, the transwolf term for “gender neutral” or “my gender’s none of your fucking nevermind,” because it reminded him of a Japanese word that could be loosely translated to “dagger.” And also because Ethan, whom Luis knew to be a Japanese werewolf, had used the comparison between the two words to teach Luis. That was Ethan’s way: show by something memorable so the lesson wouldn’t need to be retaught.

Here came another kid, maybe early twenties this time, bopping down the sidewalk like he hadn’t a care in the world. Hands in his pockets and gawking up at the nighttime sky as though he saw the stars despite Tampa’s downtown lights. Luis purposely turned away. The kid had greasy hair and tattered sneakers. And didn’t seem to give a shit. He would make the perfect victim for a quick feeding if Luis stared too long.

“You got a dollar?” the kid asked. His question was accompanied by the brief flicker of a streetlight on metal.

Luis considered the knife the kid held. The tip of the blade was less than a foot from Luis’s chest. What am I supposed to do when they start walking into my clutches? He smiled, lips closed. “Sure.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket. With the guy’s full attention on the bit of empty leather, Luis slipped into the young man’s open mind.

You don’t want to mug me, he sent. Then he laughed. That line reminded him of a movie he’d seen recently. He followed it up. You want to go to the local employment office in the morning and rethink your career choice.

The kid nodded.

Luis tucked his wallet away and took the knife from the human’s slackened grip. Before you go, you want to feed me.

The youth nodded again.

Lean against the wall. And relax. This won’t hurt. Luis allowed the young human’s physically well-hidden determination and fear to cascade into his mind. He consumed them like meat and potatoes.

He dipped back in and found little in the way of other aggression. What brought you to this crossroads, kid? He kept the thought to himself. With a sigh, he gave back a little of the energy he’d taken in the form of calm reassurance. You’ve already done something better with your life. Go find out what it is.

The youth nodded again. Smiled. Then he turned away.

He looks like my baby cousin. Sighing, Luis pulled six folded bills out of the hidden pocket in his jeans. Hey, kid. Hold up. He pushed the hundred dollars into the young man’s hand. Go on. Hide that, and go get your future.

He meant to watch until the kid disappeared, but his ears brought him news. Apparently Ethan had taken his advice and sheltered his mind well. There was the sound of clicking nails on concrete.

His tracker partner appeared less than ten seconds later. Luis watched him hesitate at the other end of the alley. Then Ethan, in wolf form, padded to where Luis stood, and sat beside him.

“You stink of magic,” Luis said.

Ethan whimpered.

Luis scanned the immediate vicinity. No other humans had noticed them as of yet. “I wish you could talk or communicate some other way when you’re like this.” He nudged a pile of clothes out from under a fall of mostly clean newspaper. “Can you change?”

He glanced down into Ethan’s inscrutable dark eyes. Was the werewolf laughing at him?

Luis looked away the instant Ethan started shifting to the human guise he wore most of the time. Not because he hadn’t seen his tracker partner naked before, and not out of any sense of shame or propriety, but because they didn’t need to be found out at such a delicate moment. SearchLight provided its trackers with ways to redirect human senses, but that was no excuse for carelessness.

Especially so close to a potential terrorist hive. Lair. Whatever werewolves called their sanctuaries.

“The den’s empty,” Ethan said from a place behind and below Luis’s left elbow. The rustle of cloth accompanied his words. “I don’t think it’s been so for more than a week. Maybe only forty-eight hours.”

“Did the TruWolves know we were coming?” That argued for a leak within SearchLight’s Tampa-based offices, a powerful precog werewolf among the terrorists, or a telepathic werewolf with strength the likes of which Luis hadn’t seen since his days in Professor Charlie McLaughlin’s classes at SearchLight Academy.

Charlie. He closed his eyes and breathed. It shouldn’t feel this fresh close to five months later, especially not when all Luis had hoped for was a single interplay of bodies.

“That’s my thought also,” Ethan said.

Luis’s mouth fell open. He conquered the urge to say something along the lines of Why am I still obsessing over him? and dragged his mind back to the conversation they were having. Ethan wasn’t talking about Charlie. He meant the terrorists.

Fully clothed now, Ethan stood beside him. “Do you want to check it out?”

BUY LINKS ARE HERE

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Party Animal – Another Roosters Story

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Roosters 6

Casey Cox is a porn star legend. Life is a never-ending party and there’s always a hot guy or two willing to play. Then Casey meets the one man who isn’t interested and suddenly it’s a challenge he can’t resist.

Get your copy at Changeling Press.

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Teaser

I stared at my reflection in the mirror and gave myself an eight out of ten. All those late nights were finally taking a toll. Would I give them up? Hell no! Life was a never-ending party, and the guest list changed every day. I liked it that way. Variety is the spice of life after all.

But right now, I needed to do damage control. I read somewhere that the eyes are the mirror of the soul. If that was true then my soul must be puffy, wrinkled, and bloodshot. It wasn’t a good look. Thank God for eye drops. A few in each eye made my whites pop. I practiced my sultry green stare in the mirror. Not bad, but the bags had to go. I reached for the Preparation H and applied it liberally. My sister swears by the stuff.

I’d showered and shaved at home, but my hair needed a redo. My trademark look is a messy bedhead, black locks flying every which way. I don’t like to disappoint the fans and it’s easy enough to get the look. It’s all about a good haircut and a few styling tricks, like gel.

I stepped back from the mirror to check out my body. No problems there. Six feet, two inches of lean muscle thanks to an exercise routine that keeps me camera ready. No matter how late I go to bed, I wake up early and use the small gym in my apartment building. A good workout always makes me feel better. Today, we’re shooting early, so I did a short routine, just long enough to break a sweat and get my blood pumping. Then it was SSME, and I’m not talking kinky sex. Shower, shave, moisturize, enema. I like to be clean for the close-up shots.

Yeah, I bare it all, but it’s all for the sake of art. I’m not kidding. One of my first jobs when I came to LA was as an artist’s model. At first, because of my strict upbringing, I was uncomfortable posing nude, but eventually I realized that the human body is a beautiful thing. It was a liberating experience.

Today, I’ve convinced myself that filming is an art form. There are thousands, maybe millions of guys out there staring at my naked body. What I do prompts an emotional response and gives them pleasure, just like other art forms. Art is in the eye of the beholder, after all. It’s one hell of an ego trip.

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Check out all the books in the Roosters series:

https://www.changelingpress.com/roosters-s-513

 

Author Bio and Links

IMG_2533 (200 x 267) (1)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

 

Grizzly Affair – a Romance Novella

Grizzly copy for DD.jpg

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Suspense, Interracial, Men in Uniform, Gay
Length: Novella

With a rogue shifter on the loose leaving a trail of bodies, it isn’t the best time for bear shifter, Roarke Hilliard to have his heat cycle. Especially since he’s the lead Special Agent on the case. But nature must take its course. When his partner, agent Spencer Malloy, places himself in Roarke’s path during his greatest time of need, the bear is worried he might break the human. But Spencer wants Roarke badly… bad enough to call in a paranormal escort.

Grigore Gabor may be a male escort, but he’s never slept with any of his clients… until now. The moment the wolf shifter gets a whiff of the bear who hired him, and his human companion, he knows he’s found his mates. But getting the surly ursa to agree is another matter.

With a killer on the loose, now isn’t the time for finding true love. With Roarke handicapped by his heat cycle, there’s only so much the agents can do against the rogue shifter. They can only hope to bring the man to justice before another body is found.

Available 9/15 at Changeling PressChangeling Press

Available 9/22 at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, Kobo

Excerpt

Special Agent Roarke Hilliard, Bureau of Paranormal Affairs, scented the air as he scanned the crime scene for clues. Darkness filled him, narrowing his world to this one moment. Blood soaked through his pants and coated his hands as he knelt beside the too still, mangled body. The copper tang of the teen’s blood teased his nostrils. His nose flared as he searched for other scents. Gunpowder residue and the stale smell of sweat hung heavy in the air.

A gun was clutched in the young man’s hand, his fingers gripping it even in death, and yet the weapon hadn’t been able to save him. Slashed across his sternum, the killer’s claws had dug deep, all the way to the bone. His clothes were torn in other areas. His belt had been partially torn from him. The clues were adding up to a terrifying, grisly picture.

This wasn’t the first victim, and if Roarke couldn’t catch the bastard responsible, it wouldn’t be the last. Up to this point, the killer had targeted male prostitutes. But this one was different. There were no indications of drug use, no condoms in the victim’s wallet. Was the killer branching out? Or were his tastes changing?

“This is definitely our guy,” Agent Spencer Malloy said as he surveyed the scene. “If we don’t catch him soon, we’ll be on every channel in the country. You know how much the Bureau hates bad publicity.”

Roarke stood. “There has to be a pattern. The first known victim was in Chicago. The second was in South Bend, Indiana. But now, victim number five is in Atlanta. Where is he going?”

“I still say they aren’t planned. I think our guy is picking up young men, then he gets frustrated when they won’t give him what he wants and he kills them.”

“They’re prostitutes living on the streets. There isn’t much they won’t do for the right amount,” Roarke reasoned.

“What’s that super sniffer of yours telling you?”

“I don’t smell semen. I don’t think he got very far before he killed this one. Maybe that was his motivation. Either he couldn’t get it up, or the victim resisted.” Although he could be wrong. Roarke wasn’t about to admit it to anyone, but during his heat cycle his nose was not the most reliable. It took every effort not to turn bear the closer the time got.

Spencer ran a hand through his short, blond hair. “I don’t like this. Rogue shifters are one thing, but one bent on murder?”

“The lab ran the sample three times,” Roarke reminded him. “No match was found in the system, but the DNA suggested a hybrid.”

“Which explains the instability,” Spencer muttered. “He obviously has impulse control issues. My gut says there are more murders. Unless some switch flipped in this guy’s head, there’s no way his first murder was last month. Not unless he was just turned, and what’s the likelihood of a just-turned hybrid?”

Roarke sighed. “I’m afraid I have to agree with you. We need to have records run a search on all unsolved shifter related homicides nationwide for the past five years, see if anything pops up that matches our guy’s MO.”

“I’ll call it in while you check out the rest of the scene. Maybe we missed something on the first walk through. Then you’re going to the hotel for a shower and a change of clothes.”

Roarke nodded and looked around again. He began a slow circuit of the space, sniffing for something he might have missed as his gaze touched on every square inch of the room. He knew from experience they wouldn’t find anything new. Fingerprints and DNA did them no good when the killer wasn’t in the system. According to the shifter laws of 2023, formed when shifters came out of hiding, all shapeshifters were required to have DNA and fingerprints on file with the government. Those who didn’t comply were termed “rogue” and would be put to death if they were found to have committed a heinous crime. If you weren’t registered, you didn’t have rights.

Spencer motioned to him from the doorway and Roarke stepped out into the sunshine. With the smell of death and decay surrounding him, he’d forgotten how beautiful it was outside. Spring was in the air, which spelled trouble for a bear on a never-ending job. The urge to mate would hit him hard and Roarke would be powerless to stop it. Last mating season, he’d damn near lost his job when he’d holed up in a motel room for three days with a willing male from a shifter run escort service… he might do well to keep their number handy.

“I passed on our thoughts about there being more murders and Rawlins said he would put a team on it.” Spencer began walking toward their SUV. “He asked why the hell we couldn’t have thought of that weeks ago. I told him we were too busy chasing a trail of mangled bodies. Pompous ass.”

Roarke grinned.

“I say we go get you cleaned up and grab a bite to eat. We missed lunch and I know that beast inside of you has to be starving.” Spencer held out his hand. “Keys.”

Roarke pulled them from his pocket and handed them over. He climbed into the passenger’s seat and patiently waited for Spencer to get in and start the vehicle.

“Speaking of my beast, there’s something you should know,” Roarke said as they pulled out of the parking lot. “My mating heat is going to hit soon. Since I don’t have a mate, my bear is going to seek the first willing male available. It’s going to possibly put me out of commission for a few days.”

“So we take a break.”

Roarke shook his head. “The mating fever is going to hit our killer grizzly too. It means more murders if he can’t find someone willing and able to handle the frenzy. Think double or even triple the body count we have now.”

“Fuck. We have to catch this guy!” Spencer slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

About Dulce

With an overactive imagination and a penchant for making up stories, was it any wonder Dulce Dennison decided to be an author? From cowboys to shapeshifters, she has a story for them all, but her passion lies in writing m/m romances. Dulce believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.

Married since 2000 to a man she isn’t sure is quite human, her husband and children (which she fondly calls the demon spawn) keep her busy, but never too busy to write. Is there such a thing as too busy to write? Most mornings you can find Dulce set up with her laptop, a cat curled up next to her, and a steaming cup of coffee just an arm’s reach away.

Dulce loves to hear from her readers! You can find her on Facebook or Twitter. If you’d like to hear more about new releases from Dulce, please sign up for her newsletter.dulce dennison.jpg