Tag Archives: Angela Knight

Invisible Monsters Teaser

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Sci-fi Romance, BDSM, Second Chances

Date Published: November 14, 2025

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Can two Rangers find love when they’re haunted by invisible
monsters — inside and out?

Earth civilians are obsessed with selfies and social media, but my life
revolves around alien starships, superhuman strength, and A.I. implants. Too
bad none of it helped when I was captured and tortured. Now I crave revenge,
but as a genetically engineered Ranger, I must obey Mothership’s rules:
protect humanity. Never kill.

When another alien ship sends monsters to invade Earth, Mothership’s
Rangers must stop them. My new Ranger teammate is everything I shouldn’t
crave: handsome, skilled, and haunted by his own dark past. He helped rescue
me from torture, but it cost him his entire team. Now I’m the mess
he’s got to clean up.


Battling invisible monsters may be the death of us, but our mutual attraction
is undeniable. Can we stop an alien invasion despite our dangerous chemistry?

Invisible Monsters tablet

EXCERPT

 

Present Day

Diana

I stared at the screen, watching the Earth grow larger as our transport raced
toward it. Even after two months as one of Mothership’s Rangers, the
sight reminded me how strange my new life had become. Down there, people were
obsessed with selfies, celebrities, and social media. I’d plunged into a
world of giant alien starships, AI brain implants, and super-strength.

And worse.

An image flashed through my head — the sadistic grin on Roger Bannon’s
face as he leaned in, the surgical drill whining as it spun. I’d fought
not to scream as the drill bit in.

Roger loved it when I screamed.

I shoved away the memory, hard. If I wasn’t careful, that thin face with
those pale, rabid eyes would start running through my head on an OCD loop.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” I muttered.

Next to me, Ian Cartwright turned to give me a narrow stare. “What did
you say?”


Damnit, Diana, you’re not supposed to creep out your battle buddy.

“Bad memories.”

His expression softened, ice-blue eyes going a little less chilly. “I
can imagine.”


No, you really can’t.
I didn’t say it aloud. Cartwright already
thought I was a human hand grenade just waiting for somebody to pull my pin.
The team didn’t need that kind of distrust, especially in the middle of
an op.

I looked away to see Indra Fox watching me in concern. Crap, I’d even
freaked her out. She and our team leader, Rowan Kerr, sat on one of the other
bench seats beside the huge oval screens that lined the transport’s
curving fuselage.

Indy had been my best friend all my life, my sister in every way but blood.
She could read me as if she were telepathic. “Having a flashback?”
She tilted her head, long, dark hair swinging around her face, green eyes
startling against the silken fall of black. Like me, Indy had a tough,
athletic build from the combat and strength training we’d had from the
time we could walk. Our dads hadn’t been fooling around.

“I’ve got it handled.”

“Cyberpunk could block those if you’d let him.”

She was right — my AI brain implant could suppress the firing synapses that
triggered those memories. “I’m not going to give Roger the
satisfaction.”

Rowan Kerr snorted. “Satisfaction’s the last thing Bannon’s
feeling.” Our team leader was even bigger than Cartwright, though his
features were less classically handsome, with the rich golden coloring of his
Latino heritage. His angular features and intense gaze made him look like
he’d escaped a temple in ancient Greece. “If he even thinks about
what he did to you, he’ll get a one-way trip to PTSD hell. Pissing
Mothership off is never a good idea.”

“She still turned him loose. He could try it again.” That’s
why I dreamed of killing him, First Reg or no First Reg. If Bannon was dead,
he’d never come back.

Cartwright gave me a frustrated glower. “Newman, he can’t. His
conditioning won’t let him. If you violate the First Reg again,
you’re going to find out why — the hard way. You’ve used up the
only second chance you get.”

That just pissed me off. “If Mothership had rescued Indra and me when
Satan’s Horsemen murdered our –”

“How about not starting a fight in the middle of a mission?” Rowan
interrupted. “We’ve got a child and his family to rescue.
Preferably before the damn Boars grab them.”

I shut my mouth so fast, my teeth clicked. I’d seen the file photo in
Aiden Scott’s dossier. Just eight years old, the kid had huge brown eyes
in a pale, round little face under a flyaway mop of dark hair, his grin wide
and white and missing a couple of baby teeth.

When Aiden was diagnosed with a high-risk medulloblastoma at age four, doctors
treated the brain tumor with surgery, chemo, and radiation. He’d still
relapsed three years later. The boy would probably be dead now, except
Mothership spotted his family’s medical GoFundMe. She’d sent a
Ranger team to the Scott family with an offer to heal Aiden. His parents
hadn’t looked a gift miracle in the mouth — just packed him up and
flown off with the Rangers.

Giant alien spaceships are a lot less scary than losing a child.


Mothership
’s doctors had infused Aiden’s body with nanotech —
molecule-sized bots that hunted down every cancer cell in his body and killed
them all. Then the tech corrected the genetic condition that caused the cancer
while healing the damage it had inflicted. He’d been healthy and happy
within three months.

But that nanotech also made him a tempting target for the Boarosans
who’d invaded the solar system a decade back. The humans whose bodies
the Boars used as unwilling hosts were as vulnerable to disease as everyone
else, and the aliens wanted to keep their meat suits healthy. That was why
they’d ordered the Horsemen to kidnap me, why Bannon and his
“researchers” had cut me, scarred me, peeled me so they could
watch my tech put me back together. They’d hoped to reverse engineer my
nanotech.

They could easily do the same to Aiden. Mothership’s simulations
predicted that since I’d escaped, the Boar might well decide to go after
the Cured she’d treated.

The idea of that sweet little boy at the mercy of the same aliens who’d
given me to Roger…


Rescuing Aiden’s a hell of a lot more important than beefing with my own
team. Better mend some fences.

I gave Ian a tight nod. “Sorry for going off on you, Cartwright.
Rowan’s right — an op isn’t the time to get pissy.”

He studied me thoughtfully. Rangers were universally attractive —
Mothership’s genetic engineering at work — but Ian was even more
gorgeous than the typical agent. His face was intensely masculine, all high
cheekbones and square jaw, his nose aquiline, his mouth wide, with a lower lip
I longed to nibble. He wore his sable hair in a severe style that made him
look even harder, sexier, but it was his eyes that pulled me in. An icy blue,
they were ringed and rayed in a rich cobalt, watchful and cool. People tend to
dismiss a man that pretty, but Cartwright was also six-five and built like an
NFL defensive lineman. As one of Mothership’s Rangers, he was even more
dangerous than he looked.

“I started it.” His voice rumbled in a way that made me yearn to
exchange more than snark with him. “Shouldn’t have poked the
wound. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just… start over, okay? The point is getting Aiden
and his family to safety.”

His nod was tight and controlled, like everything else about the man.
“Works for me.”

 

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for
Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

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

Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15

 

 

 

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Chain of Kisses Blitz

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BDSM Romance, Capture Fantasy

Date Published: June 13, 2025

 


Runaway Bride meets Unstoppable Force — recipe for disaster? Or love
rekindled?

For years, Prince Admiral Arles of Tor has been obsessed with Gisel Vanda, who
jilted him at the altar. When he discovers the lovely runaway is now a
mercenary space captain, he captures her, determined to get Gisel out of his
system. He soon discovers she’s even more intelligent and beautiful than he
remembered, but she is also a political liability he can’t afford.

Gisel bitterly regrets jilting Arles, and her love for him still burns bright.
Even as he tests her with acts of erotic dominance, she sees the opportunity
to redeem herself. But with a murderous enemy closing in, can love survive the
demands of royalty?

 

Chain of Kisses paperback
 

 

 
EXCERPT

 

 

I gave the manacle on my right arm a restless tug, and it responded with a
musical rattle. I couldn’t see a damn thing. A blindfold bit into my temples,
wrapping me in sensual, intimate darkness.

The lack of vision only made me more aware of him — his scent, that faint
tang of spice and masculinity, the heat of his big body standing just to the
left of the bunk he’d chained me to, the slight rasp of his breathing. I have
always been acutely aware of Prince Arles of Tor, once my intended, now my
captor.

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat down beside me. I quivered like an
animal, imagining his nudity. The way he’d looked that night ten years before
was branded on my memory. Arles’s broad back had flexed as he’d used the light
whip, the perfect, tanned hemispheres of his bare ass working in concert with
the leap of thigh muscles and the snap of brawny arms.

The girl had squirmed and sighed every time he hit her. Even as young as I’d
been a decade ago, I’d known she loved it. The smell of sex hung in the air
like some kind of musky, exotic spice.

“That’s what he’ll do to you,” my sister had whispered as we watched from the
secret chamber. “And he’ll make you want it. Mother will be appalled.”

Our mother might have known Arles dominated other women, but it would never
occur to her that one of her daughters would feel the need to submit.

We, after all, had been born to rule.

“Never,” I’d snarled, with all the melodrama of the seventeen-year-old I’d
been. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the prince’s feral strength. “I will
not shame my blood.” I could feel myself going wet.

“You will. He’ll weave his alien magic, and you’ll bow that proud little
head.”

I feared Isa was right. Even if I hadn’t been in love with him, Arles was too
much for me. I’d end up sacrificing everything I was to his dominance and raw
male power. My mother would turn from me in disgust and revulsion. I couldn’t
bear the thought of her disappointment.

But I also knew my mother would force me to abide by the demands of the
treaty. Saying no at the altar was not an option.

Two hours later, I slipped from the palace, abandoning my world, my family,
and my life. The Capital Spaceport was only a few blocks away, and I meant to
seek passage off world. I was too well known to take a flitter taxi — any
capital cabbie knew my curfew and would refuse to pick me up, for fear of the
Royal Guard’s wrath — so I decided to walk.

A block from my goal, I was attacked by a pack of throat slitters who dragged
me into an alley. I survived only because a passing mercenary heard my screams
and charged to the rescue. He killed every one of the slitters and flew me to
his ship for treatment of some ugly injuries.

Captain Galon Teve had a merc’s hard eyes, but his heart was soft. When I told
him my story, the big, gray-haired cyborg took pity on me and hired me on as
crew.

My new mentor taught me how to fight, how to kill, and how to pleasure. Yet no
matter how I tried, I could never love Galon as he came to love me. My heart
was already captive to a boy with a Paladin’s eyes — and a man with a devil’s
smile.

Under Galon’s tutelage, I discovered a talent for tactics and strategy.
Eventually I became his second-in-command. When Galon fell in battle against
the Fafnar, I succeeded him as captain of the Valkyrie Quest.

Through it all, Arles haunted my shamed fantasies. I’d lie in my lonely bunk
with one hand stroking between my thighs, remembering the shadows rolling
across his big body in time to the snap of his whip.

Now it was no dream.

Arles touched my nipple, brushing calloused fingertips over the hard nubbin.
Just once, but I still caught my breath at the liquid heat that rushed through
me.

“Sensitive little breasts.” His voice rumbled in the intimate darkness of my
blindfold. “I wonder how you’ll taste. Shall I find out?”

Saliva flooded my mouth, and I swallowed. I didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question.” His fingers closed over my flesh in a pinch
carefully calibrated to give more pleasure than pain. Yet the potential sting
floated just beneath the delight like a dark promise. “I want an answer. Shall
I taste you?”

“You’ll do as you please. You always do.”

“True.” He twisted, released, flicked the nipple back and forth, sending warm
delight lapping along my nerves. “But a show of submission on your part might
appease me.”

“I rather doubt it.”

“But can you afford to take the chance?” Another hot pinch, this one with a
hint of sting. Perversely, I felt heat flood my belly. “My reputation is not
exaggerated.”

“I never thought it was.”

“Perhaps a silk flogger.” He brushed his hand over the sensitive flesh of my
left breast, gave me a caressing squeeze. “Right across these pretty tits. I
would enjoy watching you dance.”

“I’ve heard that of you.” I tried for a tone of mild contempt, but my voice
sounded too high, too breathless. I silently cursed myself. I could usually
act more skillfully for my enemies.

Unfortunately, I’d never seen Arles as a foe. Even now, bound and naked, I
remembered the thoughtful boy who’d first taught me strategy over endless
games of Conquest. The prince was even more skilled now, a conqueror of two
worlds who’d driven the Fafnar from Torrean space with his ruthless, brilliant
tactics. When Arles tracked me down three days ago, I’d known I was in
trouble.

I wasn’t really surprised, though. I’d known the prince would demand a
reckoning one day; my actions had done too much damage to his reputation.
Anybody who watched the news vids knew that.

I’d also known winning a fight with him wasn’t likely. Arles commanded a huge,
Starbreaker-class warship that was the pride of the Torrean fleet. Bristling
with blaze cannons and thermal torpedoes, the Mjˆlnir outgunned the
Valkyrie three to one. Naming that ship after Thor’s Hammer had been entirely
too apt.

But though the Valkyrie was small, she was fast and nimble. She proved it as
the Mjˆlnir chased us for three days through the thickest asteroid field
I could find. Arles caught us just as we prepared to escape into superlight
space. A salvo of thermal torpedoes blew Valkyrie’s quantum engines, leaving
us dead in space.

The prince demanded my surrender as the price of my crew’s lives. I didn’t
want my people to pay for my sins, so I’d agreed. Leaving the Valkyrie in the
hands of my executive officer, I flew to meet Arles in my personal launch.

When I stepped off the small craft’s ramp onto the Mjˆlnir’s squadron
deck, I found him holding a collar and a set of magnetic slave bands equipped
with chains. The golden restraints were engraved with erotic images and
studded with emeralds for maximum barbaric glitter. He’d chained and collared
me as his grinning crew watched. I could only grind my teeth in rage, trying
to ignore the heat in my cunt.

Now Arles traced one finger down my torso, dipped suggestively into my navel,
and paused at the neatly trimmed edge of my bush. I managed not to squirm. “I
have a suspicion you’re wet,” he said, his voice dark and low. “Are you? Do I
arouse you, Gisel?” He laughed. “Odin knows you’ve made me hard and hot.”

His fingers dipped between my spread thighs. Both of us groaned at the slick,
tight flesh he found.

“Ripe,” Arles murmured. “Ripe as a peachango. Ready for my cock. Is that what
you want, Gisel?”

 

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for
Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

 

Author Contact Links

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

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

 

 

 

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The Dark Side Blitz

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LGBTQ+, BDSM, Paranormal Romance

Date Published: May 16, 2025

 

 

Welcome to The Dark Side, where the line between love and lust blurs with
dangerous passions.

The Dark One by Angela Knight

Matia of Ruza is one of the legendary Battlemaids — a woman warrior who
has taken an oath of celibacy in service of the Maid of Light. Kaska intends
to make Matia the centerpiece in a sizzling erotic ritual in honor of his
god.

Chain of Thorns by Will Okati

Riven finds himself trapped and enslaved by a powerfully seductive alien.
Where is the line between fantasy and reality — slavery and love?

BloodWolf by Sierra Dafoe

Centuries ago an ancient evil turned Baudouin Delacor into a beast for
which there had never before been a name — the BloodWolf. Delacor has only
one hope left: that by destroying the succubus, he can free himself of its
curse.

 

The Dark Side paperback

 

EXCERPT

Excerpt from The Dark One (Angela Knight)

 

Kaska of Artane slowed his stallion to an easy amble. Prince Britar’s
fortress lay a full day away, and he’d ridden poor Warbringer hard this past
month. He knew the Prince awaited the intelligence he’d gathered as a spy in
neighboring Trovan but laming his horse would serve no purpose.

Particularly with war on the horizon.

Besides, the last time Kaska had come this way, he’d had to battle the
local brigands. Two fell to his blade before the rest fled, but that left
five. And they might be in the mood for revenge. I don’t care to ride
headlong into an ambush.

“Whoreson bastards!” A woman’s roar of fury brought Kaska’s head
up. He drew Warbringer to a prancing halt.

Swords clashed, interspaced with male taunts and laughter. The laughter had
a distinctly ugly note. The woman swore again, an edge of grim desperation
in her voice.

The thieves had found a new victim.

Kaska set his heels to Warbringer’s flanks and thundered up the road toward
the sound. Rounding the bend, he saw five men fighting a lone female
traveler they’d managed to unhorse. He recognized the dented, rusted armor
and unshaven faces; it was indeed the same band of thieves.

But their victim was no common woman. Her armor and sword marked her as a
follower of the Maid of Light — a female warrior. She was tall for a woman,
with a lithe, muscular build and pretty breasts barely contained by her
intricately embossed breastplate. Long black hair swirled around her face as
she spun and hacked at her tormentors with a slim sword designed for a
woman’s hand.

One of the brigands already lay dead at her feet, but four others remained,
odds too great even for one of the legendary Battlemaids.

A grin of sheer, savage joy spread across Kaska’s face. With a howl, he
drew the blade sheathed across his back and kicked Warbringer into a
thundering charge.

The nearest of the brigands whirled too late. Kaska took his head with a
single stroke.

Another of the men jumped at him, hacking for his thigh with an axe, but
Kaska spun Warbringer aside and thrust his blade into the thief’s chest. The
man tumbled off the lethal point, gurgling out his life.

Meanwhile, the third brigand fell to the Battlemaid’s sword. His head
tumbled from his shoulders.

The fourth man looked from Kaska to the thieves’ would-be victim,
calculated the odds, and took to his heels.

Kaska snatched a dagger from his thigh sheath and hurled it at the coward
with an expert flip of his wrist. The man went down, the blade buried to the
hilt between his shoulder blades.

Scarcely breathing hard, Kaska turned to the maid. “Are you
well?”

“Well enough.” She studied him, her dark eyes level. There was a
sharp and elegant beauty to her face, with its broad, high cheekbones and
square little chin. Her lush mouth could inspire a monk to carnal
fantasies.

“My thanks, warrior,” she said at last in a low, husky voice,
pushing the long black hair out of her face. “There were too many of
them for me to best alone.” She considered him, appraising the width of
his chest and the strength of his sword arm. Female appreciation lit her
gaze, mixed with a warrior’s caution.

She had reason for that caution, for he meant to challenge her himself. He
worshiped the Dark One, and his god relished nothing as much as the moans of
a defeated Battlemaid.

Imagining the tight grip of her virgin ass, Kaska felt his cock swell
behind his loincloth.

Give her time to rest, and then…

Of course, the maid might well kill him instead, but looking at her long
legs and full, sweet breasts, Kaska thought it a chance well worth
taking.

But as he opened his mouth to warn her of his intent, all color left the
Battlemaid’s face. Her eyes rolled up. Kaska threw himself from Warbringer’s
back as she collapsed in a heap.

Two long strides carried him to the maid’s side. Dropping to one knee on
the dusty road, Kaska began an anxious examination. He found no wounds on
the front of her body, so he rolled her onto her back.

The maid groaned and lifted her head. “Wha –?”

“Seems one of your cur attackers landed a blow after all,” he
told her grimly. “There’s a stab wound in your back just under your
backplate, over your left hip.”

“Aye,” she said, letting her head fall. “One of them had a
dagger.”

“‘Tis not deep, but it bleeds still,” Kaska said. “I can
treat it, if you permit.”

“Aye,” the maid said, breathing now in shallow pants. “My
thanks.”

Kaska nodded and rose to retrieve his pack of battlefield medicines from
Warbringer. Well, he thought as he walked to his horse, I won’t be
challenging her any time soon. Not with that wound.

Later, perhaps. When he’d examined her, he’d noticed she had a truly
delicious ass.

He wanted it.

 

About the Authors

 

Angela Knight:

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards
for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Sierra Dafoe:

An award-winning author who received three CAPA nominations in her first
year of publishing, Sierra Dafoe has gone on to receive numerous awards and
recommended reads for her work. Check her website for free stories, a link
to her readers’ group, sneak peeks, and all her latest news. Sign up for her
newsletter to be entered in her monthly contest, and reach out through the
“contact” page — she loves hearing from her readers!

Will Okati:

Will Okati (formerly known as Willa) has lived through a few Interesting
Times, but come out the other side a little grayer, a little wiser, and
ready to get writing. Still as passionate about coffee, cats, and crafts as
ever, but knowing that to your own self you must be true. Also still one of
the quiet ones to watch out for, but life — like storytelling — is always
a work in progress.

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

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Wildcard Blitz

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Sci-Fi Romance, BDSM

Date Published: November 22, 2024

 


 

 

Passion’s the pot when Rowan Kerr draws the Wildcard.

 

Though she lives in a world of Beyonce and iPhones, Indra Fox thinks she
may be an alien. She’s too strong, too fast, and heals too quickly to
be merely human. But she doesn’t know for sure, because her parents
refused to tell her. Nor would they explain why she — and her equally
superhuman best friend, Diana Newman — were raised to be warriors.

When their families are murdered, Indra and Diana seek revenge on their
killers, Satan’s Horsemen. Then Diana is kidnapped, and Indra goes
undercover at a strip club the gang owns to discover where her friend has
been taken.

But when Rowan Kerr walks into the club, Indra realizes he’s even
more powerful than she is. Rowan says he knows who she really is and what
she was created to do, but she must go with him to learn the truth.

Indra will do anything to save Diana. Including embracing her destiny as
something more than human.

Rowan thinks Indra could be the teammate — and lover — he dreams of. But
she’s mad as hell about being kept in ignorance, and she’s
convinced that she’s been betrayed by the woman he works for.
What’s worse, she’s not wrong. Can he convince her to take a
chance on him? And can Indra and Rowan defeat the very real aliens who are
behind Diana’s abduction?

 

They’d better, or humanity will pay the price for their
failure.

 

 

Wildcard tablet
 

EXCERPT

Rowan

I eyed the long, low stucco building as I got out of the car.

Pink neon depicted the outline of a writhing nude woman with a tail and cat
ears wrapped around a purple neon stripper pole. More neon read “Pole
Katz Gentleman’s Club,” in red.

You sure this is the right address? I asked my computer implant.

Qubit’s silky female voice replied, Her nanos ping from this
location, and have been doing so for five hours a night for thirty-eight
days. There’s a 93.8 percent chance she’s working here.

Why? She sure doesn’t need the money. I frowned at the neon stripper.
Has to be hunting.

Odds are running at 87.6, Qubit agreed.

Indra Fox was going to be about as happy to see me as a serial killer
finding cops at the door. And for the same reason.

I headed for the purple awning over the club’s entrance. Even without
enhanced senses, I’d have been able to hear the music — Beyonce
purring about getting frisky in a limo.

Qubit displayed results from sensor scans and web searches along the
periphery of my visual field, flashing the club’s layout and the
number of people inside — one hundred and fifty-three patrons and staff. Of
those, one hundred and fifty-two were Nats — natural humans. There was only
one who wasn’t. Indra Fox.

Double doors led into a narrow, black-walled foyer vibrating with music
just short of deafening. To my left stood a cashier’s window where a
bored-looking woman in a bare-midriff Pole Katz T manned a Square station. A
sign over the window informed me of the twenty-dollar cover charge.

“Hi, there,” the cashier purred, giving me an approving
once-over.

Pulling out my wallet, I peeled off a twenty and handed it over.

“Thanks,” she said. “Enjoy.”

“I’m sure I will.” I turned to find a narrow-eyed bouncer
glowering by the curtained entry to the main room. He wore black chinos and
a black T that said SECURITY in all caps. He looked the part, too —
six-foot-three, 232.8 pounds, per Qubit’s sensors — with skin the
color of teak, a shaved head, and full-sleeve tats on massive arms. Judging
from his expression, he didn’t like the looks of me. Probably because
big as he was, I was bigger. I suspected he was also trying to figure out if
I was a cop. Or worse, if I’d get drunk and disorderly, and if he
could handle me if I did.

Dude, you wouldn’t have a prayer.

“Don’t touch the girls,” he warned. “Be a
gentleman.”

“I’m never anything but.”

He looked dubious, but I gave him a twenty-dollar tip, and he relaxed as if
reassured. Which might be a bit premature, depending on what happened with
Fox.

I stepped past him through the curtained doorway into an eye-searing storm
of thumping music and colored light. The club’s dark walls were
covered with neon silhouettes of women in erotic poses, and the floor was
scuffed dark wood. A curving translucent bar glowed to the right, edged in
yet more neon.

You need to buy a drink first, Qubit told me. There’s an etiquette to
patronizing these places, and you don’t want to draw attention.

Yeah, I’d hate to be conspicuous. I was six and a half feet tall.
Conspicuous was pretty much baked into the cake. Snorting, I headed to the
bar to collect an overpriced Scotch, then turned to work my way through the
crowd as Qubit scanned for our target.

The focus of the room was an oval stage with a pair of sturdy chrome poles,
a set of four steps at one end. A ring of plump chairs in red velvet
surrounded it, occupied by rapt patrons. Additional groupings of chairs and
tables clustered around that, mostly men, with a few couples scattered here
and there.

A blonde Nat girl worked one of the poles to the cheers and hoots of the
customers. I headed for the chairs around the stage.

If you sit there, you’ll be expected to tip every dancer, Qubit
warned as I dropped into the sole unoccupied seat.

Money not being a problem — one of the perks of working for Mama — I
shrugged. Fine. If Fox is dancing, I want to make eye contact. According to
her file, the only one of us Indra had ever met was Diana Newman. I wanted
to see how she’d react to me.

The blonde dancer bounced upward, grabbed the pole hand over hand and swung
her way around it, arching her leanly muscled body into a seductive curve.
She was down to a G-string and pasties, so she must be most of the way
through her act.

I would have been interested, but I could smell her. Not that she smelled
bad — fresh sweat, some kind of floral shampoo and citrus body wash, a hint
of mint from her mouthwash. But underneath that, she smelled Nat. So no, not
my type, though she had the kind of lean grace you get from swinging around
a pole for hours a day.

Frowning, I watched her spin and grind. Why hadn’t Mama ordered Indra
Fox and Diana Newman picked up when their parents were murdered? Or if not
then, once it became clear they were stalking the killers?

Instead, Mama had let the two run. Now Newman was offline too, and Fox was
still killing assholes.

The blonde finished her routine. Absently, I held up a ten. The Nat
sauntered over and knelt so I could tuck it into her G-string. Giving me a
dazzling smile, she winked. “Want a lap dance?”

I smiled and shook my head. Looking disappointed, she stood and headed for
the next bill. The guy who waved it looked a lot more enthusiastic.

This whole fucking thing is weird. Fox has capped four men in the past
year. Why not pick her up before now? Mama doesn’t approve of merking
people, even actual mercs.

It was a rhetorical question, but Qubit answered anyway. She didn’t
share her reasoning.

There’s a shock.

Not that I was shedding any tears for Fox’s victims. According to the
police files Qubit had hacked, they’d been members of Satan’s
Horsemen, a mercenary gang suspected in a slew of illegal shit — drug
trafficking, prostitution, gun running, murder for hire. No wonder the cops
didn’t care they’d ended up room temperature. Though judging by
the crime scene pics, Fox’s temper was almost as nasty as mine.

The local po-po also suspected Pole Katz was run by the Horsemen, though a
couple of raids had turned up jack in the way of evidence. All they’d
managed to do was charge two girls with allowing a little too much groping
during lap dances.

Any of the gang present?

 

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards
for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

 

Author Links

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today

 

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

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Arcane Kiss Blitz

Arcane Kiss banner

 

Arcane Kiss cover

Alternative Universe, Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Date Published: Apri 12, 2024

 

 

Kurt Briggs has a spirit link to a tiger Familiar that gives him superhuman
abilities, but when his father is murdered, the military veteran becomes a
target for terrorist sorcerers. Alone, Kurt finds he’s no match for the
witch and her shape-shifting polar bear. He turns to Arcanist Genevieve
Reyes for help in fighting the killers’ spells.

As Genevieve and Kurt hunt the terrorists, shared danger leads to shared
desire. But they soon realize Kurt’s passion for Gen weakens his control
over his cat. The consequences could be deadly for them both. Genevieve is
attracted to Kurt’s animal sensuality, but she knows she may be in as much
danger from his tiger as she is from the terrorists.

Even if Kurt and Gen manage to stop the terrorists, their evil sorcery may
trigger a witch hunt that could mean the destruction of everyone with
magical Talent — including Kurt and Genevieve.

Arcane Kiss paperback

 

EXCERPT

The tiger bounded toward him in a blur of striped fur and powerful muscle.
Kurt Briggs braced himself as the big cat reared to thump huge paws down on
his shoulders. Somehow he managed not to fall on his ass, though eight feet
of cat made an awkward dance partner. Rumbling, the beast touched a cool,
damp nose to Kurt’s.

“Hi to you, too, Stoli.” Kurt dug his fingers in thick reddish
gold fur to give his Familiar a scratch.

Golden eyes narrowed in feline ecstasy and Stoli chuffed a greeting. The
tiger dropped to all fours again, and turned toward the lake with a flick of
his striped tail. Kurt strolled after him across the thick grass.

Through the trees ahead Kurt spotted the flickering glint of afternoon
sunlight on water — the spring-fed lake that lay at the heart of Briggs
Feral Sanctuary. Another tiger lounged in the shallows, six hundred pounds
of stripes, attitude and luminous golden eyes.

Dave gave them a lazy blink, indolent as a pasha. And like a pasha, he
apparently had a harem — or at least a gang of devoted fans. Ten female
volunteers clustered just outside the enclosure fence as close as they dared
get. Dressed in shorts, hats and T-shirts with the BFS lion logo, they all
wore grins of anticipation as they waited for him to do something amazing.
Or, knowing Dave, inappropriate.

Stoli catapulted off the bank, sailed through the air, and landed on the
other cat with a huge splash. The volunteers fled the arcing water, yelping
and laughing.

Dave roared, batting at Stoli’s nose with sheathed claws. “Back
off, Tigger! Do I look like fuckin’ Pooh Bear to you?”

Stoli raced off, chuffing like a giggling ten-year-old who’d pranked
his brother. Which was exactly what he was. The two cats had been
littermates before they’d melded with their human partners. Otherwise
they couldn’t have shared an enclosure. Their fights would have been
real.

“You’d better run, asshole! I’ll turn you into a
rug!” Dave flopped back down in the water with a huff of feline
disdain. “The crap I put up with.”

Kurt’s grin faded. Dave did indeed put up with a hell of a lot. A
year ago he’d been Dave Frost, a member of Kurt’s Arcane Corps
unit — a tall, lanky blond with a wicked sense of humor. But that was
before Dave had died, leaving his soul trapped in the body of Smilodon, his
Familiar.

Another man might have surrendered to bitterness and grief for his lost
humanity. Dave taught himself to talk by making the air vibrate with magic
instead of human vocal cords. Now he was building a thriving career as a
YouTube smartass.

“You got me all wet,” a blonde volunteer complained, pretending
to pout as she pulled at her soaked shirt.

The tiger gave her a toothy grin. “My pleasure.”

“Ladies, quit flirting with the wildlife and finish cleaning the
enclosures.” Kurt put a little subsonic rumble in his voice. Dave
wasn’t the only one who could manipulate sound with his magic.
“We don’t want BFS to smell like the world’s biggest
litter box.”

“Killjoy,” Dave complained.

“You heard the man.” Karla Morgen, the volunteer coordinator,
made a shooing gesture at the women. “The poop won’t scoop
itself.”

“You know,” Kurt told Dave as the volunteers scattered,
“you couldn’t be any more a ham if you were Porky
Pig.”

“How else would I bring home the bacon?” Dave flicked a paw,
and an invisible snare drum banged out a rimshot.

Kurt laughed. “You’re getting scary with the magical sound
effects.”

“I live to terrify. Speaking of performances, how many tickets did we
sell last night? Looked like every inch of the arena bleachers had
somebody’s butt on it.”

“Pretty much.” BFS’s Feral 101 show was designed to
educate sanctuary visitors about big cats. They’d livened it up with a
demonstration of Feral abilities, but the material had still been as dry as
sawdust — until Dave had taken the emcee job in his capable paws. “We
brought in five thousand in ticket sales and donations, plus another
thousand for selfies and souvenirs.”

And they needed every dime. Keeping fifty-nine exotic cats fed and healthy
wasn’t something you did on a shoestring.

Dave gave him a smug smile. “I has skillz. I also has half a million
followers.”

“You’re just lucky they don’t know what an asshole you
are.”

“I’m a tiger. We’re supposed to be assholes.”

Movement across the lake drew Kurt’s attention. In the next
enclosure, a lion came to the water’s edge, accompanied by his two
lionesses. Staring at the tigers, the Familiar roared.

 

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards
for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

 

Contact Links

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

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

 

Purchase Today

 

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

1 Comment

Filed under BOOKS