Tag Archives: Emily Carrington

Impulse Control Teaser

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Marisburg Chronicles (#8)

Romantic Suspense / LGBTQ

Date Published: February 6, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

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Spontaneity can be both exciting and terrifying for everyone involved.

When Riku ran from the trouble caused by his lover’s family, he
wasn’t quite sure what he was running to. He left his beloved behind,
abandoning his heart’s desire in the name of escape. Now, in a job he
loves but missing that critical piece of his soul, he mourns, longing for the
companionship as much as the sexual tension.

Theo has given chase, all the way across the country. He wants closure if
nothing else, but that would be a terrible second choice. What he longs for is
to have Riku back in his life and in his bed.

Now, with all the time and former distance between them, can Riku and Theo
move past the merely physical cravings of “I missed you” to a
confession of their true feelings?

 

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Excerpt
 

 

Copyright ©2026 Emily Carrington

 


HotSpot Universal Media
had taken off in the late nineties and seemed to grow
exponentially every year. Theo’s parents’ company wasn’t
exactly the only universal design organization that worked with people of all
different abilities, but it had been one of the first to open its doors and
actually make a profit.

Every time Theo had to recite that bit of historical dogma, he felt both proud
and like he was rubbing his competitors’ noses in shit. He was so glad
to have a job when many people with visual impairment and hearing loss
couldn’t find work, but he was also profoundly aware that HUM traded as
much in bad press for others as it did in good reviews.

He leaned back in the seat of the Audi and closed his eyes, effectively
shutting out the world. He wore headphones that the driver could talk through
to get his attention if need be, but mostly the noise cancelling was to soothe
his over-stressed brain. He’d just spent four days at a conference
touting the importance of the universal design company, using the catch phrase
his parents’ marketing team had come up with three or four years ago:
Charity begins at HUM.

He was suddenly distracted by a wet nose on his ankle. He tended to wear
low-riding socks when he wasn’t in public and today was no exception.
His service dog was either just shifting or she was asking for pets. He
reached down without opening his eyes and found her head. He rubbed her
stand-up ears affectionately. She shifted a little closer and lifted her head,
giving him access to the spot under her chin. She liked to be scratched there.

Grinning, breathing out a good chunk of stress, and feeling grateful for
Capitaine’s monitoring of his mood, Theo murmured, “Good
girl.”

“Did you say something, sir?” Carlton asked through his
headphones.

“Nope.” He felt his grin stretch. “Capitaine just needed
some attention.”

“Very good, sir.”

He couldn’t break Carlton of the habit of calling him “sir.”
Probably that was because the man was former military. Theo supposed it was
better than not getting any respect, but the stiff interactions he had with
the family’s staff made him extraordinarily self-conscious. He much
preferred the occasionally awkward discussions he had with the businesspeople
he worked with. Often, their responses were confused, as they were unsure how
to talk to someone who was mostly deaf and losing more vision weekly, or so it
seemed.

His phone rang, buzzing against his leg and sounding in his ears. He pressed a
button and said, “Hello, this is Theodore Billings.” He
didn’t recognize the number, but that wasn’t unusual. He got lots
of random calls from folks trying to get him to fund their project or
business.

“Sir, it’s Omar Jeffries. I’m sorry I’m calling from a
strange number, but my cell is dead and I forgot my charger in the
hotel.”

The private investigator sounded excited, or at least not as discouraged as he
had during the last three conversations over the last two months. Theo sat up
a little straighter and, after giving Capitaine one more pat, turned all his
attention to finding out what Omar knew. “Good news?” he asked,
trying to make his voice casual. He failed as a frisson of excitement bubbled
up.

“I’m in Pennsyltucky and –”

Theo frowned and before he could stop himself, he asked, “Do you mean
Pennsylvania?” He didn’t like unfriendly names for things. He
tended to think there was too much division in the country at large.

Omar took a breath. “Yes, sir. Sorry. I’m in a rural part of the
state and even if this little town is a hotbed of culture, it’s
surrounded by farmland and…”

Theo heard him take another breath. Whatever he had to tell, he was letting
his passion overcome his caution.

Did that mean he’d found something concrete?

“It’s a little town west of Philadelphia. Maybe an hour outside
the city.”

“What’s the proof you’ve found this time?”

“Not just proof, boss. He’s actually living in a house with a gay
couple. I’ve seen him, and he and the one man went out and bought him
some new clothes, I think.”

Jealousy threatened to swallow Theo’s common sense then. He blurted,
“Did they… Is Riku their third?”

“I don’t think so. I snuck a peek in the window when he forgot to
shut the curtains. He sleeps downstairs on an inflatable mattress, although I
don’t know why he doesn’t sleep on the couch that’s
available.” He paused and then added, “Maybe he’s too tall
to be comfortable. It’s more like a loveseat than a sofa.”

Theo’s heartbeat had picked up. He closed one hand into a loose fist and
put it against his chest as hope coursed through him. “What’s he
doing there?”

“I think he’s looking for work. He’s bought, or had bought
for him, actually, a new suit.”

“Philadelphia… All right. I’ll get plane tickets and fly
out there. What’s the name of the town?”

“It’s more like a tiny village than a town. It’s called
Marisburg.”


Riku Watanabe, feeling like a caged bird, stared in horror at the orange cat
fur that coated his suit jacket and trousers. “Fuck,” he
whispered. He reminded himself the interview wasn’t today, that there
was time to wash the clothing again, only… wasn’t at least part
of the suit supposed to be dry cleaned? He couldn’t remember. He plunged
his fingers into his hair and groaned. It wasn’t that he didn’t
like cats, although he preferred dogs. He just didn’t need anything else
to go wrong before his interview at the school for the deaf tomorrow.

Someone touched his shoulder and he jumped. He could be snuck up on easily
with his limited hearing, but that didn’t mean he liked being startled.
He opened his mouth to snap at Peter, remembering just in time that Peter
might be able to read his lips. He was here on sufferance, or that was what it
felt like, and he didn’t want to offend one of his hosts.

Since coming to Marisburg, Pennsylvania, shortly before the Christmas holiday,
he’d nearly gotten himself thrown out due to rudeness on more than one
occasion. He didn’t want that to happen, not with his future on the
line.

Peter raised an eyebrow in inquiry and Riku shook his head, flapping his hands
helplessly. Then he pointed at the suit, which he’d laid, neatly, in a
cardboard box to keep it from getting dirty. Or at least that had been the
vain hope.

Peter took a look and his mouth opened, releasing a sound that was loud but
undeniably amused. He shut his mouth an instant later, looking embarrassed.

Riku shook his head and signed, “You’re laughing at me?”

“Do you know anything about cats?” Peter signed back. Then,
without waiting for Riku to respond, he continued. “Cats love boxes.
‘If I fits, I sits,’ applies to cats. They especially love being
surrounded by walls, or a semblance of walls, on all sides. That’s why
cat scales in a veterinarian’s office are often squares with pretty tall
sides.” He peered at the suit. “Tracks has really made himself at
home. Let me get the lint rollers. At least he didn’t put any holes in
the fabric.”

Peter was gone about two minutes, long enough for Riku to reconsider his
frustration level. When Peter reappeared, Riku asked, his hands trembling just
a little with nerves, “Would Abe give me a ride to the school, do you
think?” He didn’t want to mention the rideshares and how they
might not get him to his destination on time tomorrow. He wasn’t sure if
asking Abe was a bigger imposition than he already assumed. If he hadn’t
had to give up his car in Colorado, or stop using his credit card in Ohio,
maybe he wouldn’t feel so trapped. He’d been without a job for
over a year, and seven months ago he’d packed up what little he thought
he could manage to use that actually belonged to him, and he’d fled
East.

Swallowing hard, he watched Peter anxiously.

Peter set down both lint brushes and frowned at him. “Of course Abe will
take you. The two of us may not agree with some of your spontaneous actions
but we want to see you happily employed.” He paused and then added,
“I mean, you know a lot about teaching English.”

Riku flushed. He’d been ranting, really, about the differences between
ASL and spoken English and how learning both was a challenge for anyone, but
especially for the deaf community. The languages shared much in common, but
the ways they were different outnumbered the similarities.

Peter pointed at himself. “I thought ASL was the superior language, but
you made me realize it’s equal to the spoken word.” He shook his
head, looking rueful. “I wonder if that’s one of the reasons my
wife broke up with me. She could tell I was prejudiced.”


Peter had been married before his union with Abe?
Riku asked silently, then
out loud, “You’re bisexual?”

Peter nodded. Then he changed the subject. “Don’t worry about Abe
missing work or anything. It’s his practice, and if he needs to take
off, ever, he plans for it.”

Riku sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just anxious. I want this to go
well.”

Peter’s eyes widened. It seemed a strange reaction to Riku’s
words.

Glancing over his shoulder, Riku spotted the Siamese cat, who was a new
addition to the Peter-and-Abe household, rubbing his cheek against the box.
Riku hurried over to rescue his suit before it had cream-colored hairs on it
too.

Peter handed him one of the de-furring brushes. He set his down for a moment
and then signed, “Breathe. You’re going to do a great job
tomorrow. As for your suit, we’ll hang it in the hall closet and keep
the door shut.”

Grateful, Riku nodded and the two of them set about cleaning off the
inordinate amount of cat fur.

As he worked, though, Riku’s thoughts turned, as they often had since
he’d left San Francisco, to the life he’d abandoned. He’d
had few acquaintances that weren’t hangers-on, wanting a handout from
Theo, but he’d had his lover. That had, largely, been enough. Not
because he was a hermit by choice but because most of his interactions with
others had been online. There had been enough drama in the deaf community to
keep people entertained for years, and in the deafblind circles where Theo
sometimes ran, all anyone seemed to be able to do was talk about each other.
Theo had once explained that tendency with “many don’t have access
to the technology that would make reading the news or keeping up with other
current events possible, so, being human, they talk about what they know —
other humans.”

Riku was taking care of the trousers, removing stripes of furry orange from
the dark blue fabric while he chewed over why he missed his old life so much.
It wasn’t just that he’d had a consistent roof over his head. It
wasn’t the creature comforts, although there had been plenty of those.
It was the quiet evenings, snuggled up with Theo while his lover read over
applications. It was the passionate sex and the post-coital cuddles and
kisses.

Was he simply dwelling on the good things he’d left behind? Well, yes…

 

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host
of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily
has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate
quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her
website.

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

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

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

Pre-Order Today

 

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Tilthos Pack Teaser

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LGBTQ, Dark Fantasy, Shifters

Date Published: January 16 2026

 

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Lovers who have stood the test of time find themselves on unsteady ground. Can
their love prevail despite the terror working its way through the pack?


Wedding a Genie:
Mark and Luke are getting married… or are they?
Mark’s pride may not allow him to show how he feels to a roomful of his
nearest and dearest.


The Mating Ceremony:
Ethan and Jeremy have been forced into a mating ceremony.
Can their love survive their pack traditions?


The Separation:
Separated by hundreds of miles and a promise, Charlie and Luis
long for each other. Will their love survive?


A Solstice Sundering:
When Ethan is ordered back to the pack, his strained
relationship with Jeremy comes to the forefront. Can they weather this storm?


Uncertain Foundations:
Lovers who have stood the test of time find themselves
on unsteady ground. Can their love prevail?

 

Tilthos Pack tablet

 

Excerpt from Wedding a Genie

 

Mark paced. He was dressed, finally, in his coat and tie, his hair tamed. He
looked almost the same as he did every day for work, except this was a tux,
not just a suit. And it wasn’t black, like the majority of his dress
clothes. Luke had picked out a soft brown garment that complemented
Mark’s deep tan and his dark brown hair. The tie he wore was the same
blue as his eyes. The tie clip, which he hadn’t even known was a thing
until Luke produced it, was golden and in the shape of a dragon.

He looked good.

But he longed to rip off all his clothes and go for a swim in the Gulf of
Mexico.

Someone knocked on the door to the “groom’s” changing room
on the boat he and Luke had rented for their wedding. Mark quit pacing and
forced his hands not to shake. “Come in.”

His brother, Jonathan, stepped in and shut the door. “Are you all
right?”

Mark scowled. “Why?”

To his surprise, Jonathan didn’t snap right back. “Because I was
nervous as hell when I got married to Becca,” he said quietly “And
you haven’t known Luke half as long as I knew Becca before I proposed.

“Besides, Mark,” he added, “I know you. Making a change like
this is difficult at the best of times and you’ve just been promoted.
You’re trying to get your feet under you.”

Mark let out a long sigh. “You’re right, I’m nervous. I love
him, I want to be with him for the rest of my life. Why am I so
jittery?”

“Like I said, it’s a big change.” Jonathan turned for the
door.

“That’s it? You’re going to come in here, confront me about
my nerves, and then just walk out?”

“You’re calmer now,” Jonathan pointed out.

Mark huffed a laugh. “I still want to go for a swim in the gulf.”

“As long as you get back here in time to dry yourself off, I don’t
see why that’s a problem. It’s almost an hour
before…” Jonathan tilted his head and said, “Or maybe
Luke’s presence would help.”

Mark’s tension rocketed up from a five all the way to a ten.
“Luke?” he squeaked.

Jonathan left the room and Luke stood in the doorway with two tall glasses in
his hands. “I know we’re not supposed to see each other before the
wedding,” Luke said, sounding apologetic. “But do you mind if I
come in?”

Mark took two steps back and gestured his soon-to-be-husband inside. Luke used
his magic to close the door without touching it.

“Showoff,” Mark teased weakly.

“Genie prerogative,” Luke answered. He took a sip from the glass
in his left hand and offered Mark the other one.

It was a rum and Coke; Mark sensed that even before he could smell the
contents. Luke knew what relaxed him. “You could feel my agitation all
the way from the other side of the boat, huh?” he asked as he sipped.
And then took a little more because Luke just made this particular drink so
perfectly.

Luke, being a genie, Mark’s former genie, had a connection to
Mark’s emotions. Sort of like the telepathic link Mark had to Luke,
although in that case it was because of Mark’s dragon genetics. For
Luke, it had everything to do with the rules that governed his species. Or at
least that was what he and Mark had decided. Probably, if SearchLight ever
chose to study genies more thoroughly, they would find a different, or at
least more exact, answer.

Luke nodded, his golden eyebrows drawn together in a worried frown. He set his
glass on a handy table and crossed to Mark. “What’s wrong?”

Damn, but Luke looked good. Mark traced the lapel of his lover’s tux.
Brown, like Mark’s, but a lighter shade. Luke had really coordinated
everything. “You look like a sex god,” Mark murmured.

That got him a brief smile but then Luke’s serious expression returned.
“Talk to me, my Mark. What’s making you so jumpy?”

Mark didn’t know how to lay hands on the source of his nervousness and
so he simply shook his head. He, too, set his glass down and wrapped his arms
tightly around Luke, resting his cheek against his lover’s shoulder. His
whole body wanted to shake and he held it at bay. He felt so safe in
Luke’s embrace.

“Okay, so this is helping,” Luke correctly interpreted. “I
can just hold you during the whole ceremony if you want.”

Mark tensed. “I don’t want…” He stepped back.

The look on Luke’s face was that of a stricken calf.

Mark hugged him close again. “It’s not you, it’s me, and I
know that sounds like a crock of shit but…” He rubbed
Luke’s back. “Please understand… I’m sorry… I
don’t know how to explain but I’m so sorry…” He let
his words fade away as Luke placed a gentle kiss on his hair. Mark
couldn’t help thinking he shouldn’t feel this way, not when he was
the head of a whole damned department, he’d known Luke for three plus
years, and he all but worshiped the ground his genie lover walked on. Why was
he feeling so defensive?

“I’m feeling vulnerable,” he whispered as the truth made
itself known.

Luke’s voice in his ear was unfailingly soothing and warm. “If you
want, we can postpone or…” His swallow was audible in
Mark’s ear.

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host
of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily
has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate
quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her
website.

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

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

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

Pre-Order Today

 

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Holiday Fatigue Teaser

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Gay Christmas Romance, Medical, Interracial

Date Published: December 5, 2025

 

 

For husbands Peter and Abe, Christmas is a time for miracles — and
unexpected party crashers.

Peter is all set to make this Christmas season the best for his husband. That
is, until a cat is all but thrown into his lap and an unexpected and unwanted
man crashes at their house for the holidays. Worse than the lack of privacy is
the curtailing of their light BDSM play.

Abe can’t say no when an old flame begs for a place to stay.
Temporarily. This man has fallen on hard times and needs a little kindness.
However, there’s something more he wants than a roof over his head. As
Abe struggles against seasonal depression, a couple of cats come to enliven
the home he shares with Peter.

Between grief, jealousy, and a prying houseguest, can Abe and Peter kindle
their spirits toward lovemaking and the holidays?


WARNING: Holiday Fatigue includes references to cutting behavior and thoughts
of suicide that may be triggers for some readers, as well as mention of animal
cruelty.

Holiday Fatigue paperback

 

EXCERPT

 

Peter didn’t love the end of the semester, no matter that it meant a day
off from teaching. He would much rather be filling his students’ heads
with math facts than plugging in grades. Of course, if he hadn’t left so
many assignments till the last minute, having graded them but not bothered to
put them in the computer… He threw up his hands in exasperation and
then signed, to no one in particular, “Why do I always do this to
myself?”

He glanced around, seeing he was still alone in the classroom he shared with
another co-teacher. He would normally not worry about others seeing him sign.
Most people were hearing folks and didn’t know more than the alphabet,
if they even knew that much, in ASL. He worked, though, at a school for the
deaf, and the chances of someone knowing he was frustrated were high.

Probably some of the other teachers were in the same boat, having pushed off
putting grades in the computer until this, the last day of the quarter before
winter break. That was of no comfort when his co-teacher, Laura, was done with
her grades and was hanging out somewhere in the building until three
o’clock.

He darted a glance at his watch, saw he only had an hour and a half to finish
inputting grades, and signed a little F-bomb.

An hour later found him sweating and swearing in his head, trying to work so
fast that his fingers kept tripping over each other.

Someone touched his shoulder. He jumped a foot. Turning in his chair, he saw
Laura gazing at him with a look of concern on her face. Then that expression
passed and she wrinkled her nose at him before signing, “Are you still
working?”

He nodded, wanting to return to his work but not wanting to put his back to
her. That was rude.

“Give me your login and the list of remaining grades. We’ll divide
and conquer.”

He hesitated, but only for an instant. Laura wasn’t the type to make
offers like this every day. “Thank you,” he signed. “Why are
you –”

“Consider it the gift from your Secret Santa.” She smirked.
“You forgot we were exchanging gifts in the teacher’s lounge at
2:30, didn’t you?”

“Guilty,” he responded.

“Give me your login and I’ll help. Then you need to give your gift
before your person leaves.”

“Too late,” Peter signed back before handing her a stack of graded
papers. Hands free again, he signed, “Brent’s already left for the
day. His kid got an ear infection on the last day of school.”

“Sucks,” she signed, her face sympathetic.

He jotted down his computer info and walked it over to her as she booted up
her machine. “Thank you, Laura. Really.”

“I forgot to get you a gift,” she admitted.

“This is better than some ten-dollar token,” he assured her.

At exactly 2:58, he shut down his computer. Laura, who was a faster typist
than he was, had finished her stack about five minutes earlier.

“Go home,” she signed. “Just don’t count on me saving
your ass in the spring.”

He got out as soon as he could, his thoughts turning from gratitude to dreams
of his husband. Abe, named for the poet and playwright Kobo Abe, wasn’t
a fan of this particular holiday. Peter had been slowly changing that for his
lover over the years, but each year it was a struggle to find out what would
help Abe forget his pain.

He waved at another teacher as he headed for the main doors. This was a
relatively new guy and for a moment, Peter couldn’t remember his name.

“Hi, Peter,” the unnamed man signed. “Have a good
break.”

Peter frowned, realized he probably looked like the proverbial grouch, and
held up a hand for the new teacher to stop. “What’s your
name?” he signed.

“Estaban.” He grinned. “Spanish as the day is long and a
gift from my immigrant parents that I don’t always appreciate.”

Yes, Peter remembered now. He hadn’t interacted with the new Spanish
teacher since he’d arrived here two months ago because he was on another
floor and that might as well be in another kingdom. “Sorry,” he
apologized. “My brain is…” He shrugged.

“Already on break?” Estaban suggested.

Well, in a way, Peter thought as he excused himself and went outside. He
walked to the sidewalk that paralleled the street. He could order a shared
ride from the front of the school, but he felt restless. It was two hours
before Abe would even be thinking about coming home. All day, Peter had been
thinking, not of the grades or his lackadaisical way of letting them pile up,
but of his husband and Christmas. Now, as he turned down Forrest Street in
Colton, which was the college town closest to their home in Marisburg, he
considered his unusual agitation. Abe had been acting steady as the day was
long for a while now. There was no reason to expect he’d sink into
depression. Even if he did, it wasn’t as if depression was his choice.

Peter looked up when he saw a flash of color out of the corner of his eye and
had to smile. Every single tree had lights in their branches. Most of the
lights were the beautiful, if common, white ones. The tree he was currently
looking at had been decorated in tiny, colorful orbs. He smiled up at the tree
that stood out. He touched the bark of the tree and grinned in appreciation.
He would bring Abe down to see this tree. They’d call it the
“Christmas Pride” tree.

Having a plan for this Thursday night at last, even if it was only to view a
tree that stood out among its fellows, Peter took out his phone to order his
shared ride. Before he could drop his gaze to the screen, he was caught off
guard by another swash of color, this time moving fast. Self-preservation made
him look up as a car, slowing abruptly, seemed to coast in front of him. With
the colorfully decorated tree in the way, he couldn’t see everything
clearly, but something was hurled out of the passenger window before the car
sped off again.

People were such slobs. He wasn’t a trash collector by nature, but
something about the white and black thing thrown out of the car’s window
caught his attention. It was the right size to be any number of things, but
the way it had twisted in midair… He went to the snowdrift where the
careless people had aimed… and when he peered into the hole made by the
object, he saw yellowish eyes looking back at him.

He gaped even as he tore off his winter coat and stooped to scoop up the
little animal. It was a kitten, he realized, or a very small cat if it was
full-grown. Mostly white with black splotches, it hissed at him as he bundled
it into his coat.

The little critter wriggled hard and managed to get a paw free. The cat lashed
out with razor-sharp claws and if not for Peter’s gloves, he would have
taken quite the injury. As it was, one tiny cat nail caught in the leather of
his right glove and the cat opened its mouth wide, surely making quite a fuss.

Peter carefully freed the little demon’s claw and reworked the bundling
so the cat wouldn’t hurt him. If he’d been tossed out of a moving
car, he’d be pissed too.

As he trekked back to the school, thinking of having the nurse check out the
little feline monster before he took them home, the cat’s name flashed
in his mind, and he grinned even as he cautioned himself that surely he and
Abe couldn’t keep this little fighter. He’d try to impress upon
whoever ended up with the cat that his or her name was Catankerous.

As he walked, goose bumps popped out on his arms, which were covered only by a
short-sleeved polo because the school tended to run hot. He thought about
nuzzling Catankerous, but the wicked gleam in their eyes made him reconsider.
He wished he could speak to them, let them know help was coming.

Maybe two dozen steps from the front doors of the school, the cat settled down
and quit struggling. Then, through the coat where he’d pressed it
against his chest, Peter felt the attack cat begin to purr.

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host
of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily
has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate
quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her
website.

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

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

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

 

Pre-Order Today

 

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Convention of Dragons Teaser

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LGBTQ, Dark Fantasy, Polyamorous, Shapeshifters

Date Published: October 31, 2025

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When duty calls, where will the heart go?

Joel’s twin has been hurt, and Joel decides to stay with him rather than
join his new lovers across the sea. But fate, and a serial killer, have other
plans.

Parisa and Noah are drifting apart and without Joel they might lose everything
they’ve built.

Can this new throuple fight together to win their happiness or will evil
triumph?

 

Convention of Dragons paperback

 

 
EXCERPT

 

“Hooo-elll…”

It was Parisa’s voice, but he couldn’t touch her physically or
telepathically. All Joel’s senses were blurred.

Joel wasn’t sure if he’d passed out, but everything was foggy. Not
dark, since he had no concept of light beyond the meaning of the word, but
misty. It was like the fog that clung to his face and arms, to his hearing and
sense of smell when he’d visited England thirty years ago. He’d
never forget that sensation of everything being muffled. The sound of his own
voice had been right, but the tapping of his cane tip on the cobblestones in
London had been oddly removed from the rest of him. He’d actually fallen
a couple of times in London, not because he couldn’t feel the ground but
because he had tried too hard to rely on the sound of his cane to tell him the
depth of things like cracks and steps.

Now, although the sense of being wrapped in cotton persisted, he felt even
more cut off from the world because he was really two people. He
couldn’t attend to his own movements or speech while living in
Jules’s head. Especially not when Jules was so distant from the world.
His whole spirit seemed caught up in confusion and fear. So although Joel and
Jules sometimes lived in each other’s heads for brief moments, there had
never been such a fundamental separation from physical reality.

Dimly, he could feel a hand caressing his face. He tried to reach up and catch
those fingers, but his arms felt like they weighed a hundred pounds. He
attempted another connection with Jules, one that would allow him to
communicate more than just his confusion and to feel Jules’s sense of
dislocation. That, too, failed.

Someone spoke then, their voice cutting through the fog. “Joel.”
It was James, the dragon guarding him. “Joel, come back. Follow me if
you’re turned around.”

He clung to those words and finally managed, by trailing after them in the
psychic world, to reestablish himself in the realm of touch, hearing, and
scent.

The person caressing his face paused and Parisa asked, “Can you hear me,
Joel?”

“Yes,” he croaked, his throat dry.

“Drink,” she answered, and he opened his mouth, unsure if he would
feel a glass against his lips or her cupped hand. He registered the water as
cool and drank as palmfuls were brought to his lips. From where he’d
heard Parisa’s voice, he’d expected the water to come from another
angle. Maybe Noah was actually giving him the refreshing liquid.

“James?” he asked between mouthfuls.

“He’s not here,” Parisa said, “although I heard him
too. It was like he somehow tapped into a telepathy that could be carried to
more than one person.”

“Are either of you hurt?” Joel asked.

“No,” Parisa answered after a moment. He wondered what caused the
hesitation. Then she explained. “Noah is shell-shocked, I think.
He’s –”

“I’m fine,” Noah said firmly. “Just… sorry
about…”

Struggling to raise his head, Joel felt hands tighten on his shoulders. He
fought down the instantaneous panic that clawed at his throat. “Unless
there’s a reason for me to be lying on my back,” he said as gently
as he could manage, “I’d rather sit up.”

The hands released him and as he sat up, crossing his legs, he felt
Parisa’s breath on his shoulder blade. He was still naked. He shivered
and instinctively pulled his legs up to shield his stomach and softer bits. He
wasn’t afraid of Parisa or Noah, but he felt vulnerable. “What
happened?”

“There was an explosion,” Noah said, and he did sound a little
shocky because his voice trembled. “Over at the other house, we
think.”

“Definitely not here,” Parisa put in. “Do either of you need
a towel? There aren’t robes in here, and I don’t think we should
leave the bathroom until we get the all-clear.”

So, that was why his bare butt was on tile. “Did you two carry me in
here?”

Again, there was that momentary pause. Then Parisa said, “I helped Noah
and carried you, yes.”

Their location made sense even if nothing else did. As far as Joel knew, the
bathroom might be the only room in the smaller house without windows.

Not like the one that had blown inward, injuring Jules.

He shivered as that realization, sent by his twin, hit him. Jules didn’t
actually know it had been a window, but he’d had glass taken out of his
arm so he’d made an educated guess. Joel said, “Soon as we can, I
need to get to Jules. Something’s seriously wrong with him.”

“Can you feel him?” Parisa asked, her hand warm on his back.

“Not now but…” He shivered again, unable to help himself.
“He was muffled, or that’s what it felt like. Like having your
head wrapped in a blanket.”

Noah began, “Did he –”

Someone interrupted, throwing open the door. “Here they are,” said
James, his voice tight.

“Good,” said a voice that came out slightly tinny. “Help is
on the way but it’s a good hour out. See if you can move them to this
building.”

“Will do.” James crouched, his voice coming from off to
Joel’s right. “Are any of you hurt?”

Joel shook his head. “I’m fine. It didn’t happen
here.” He reached out toward James’s voice, but Parisa caught his
hand.

“Agent Tavery,” she said softly, “you’re
bleeding.”

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host
of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily
has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate
quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her
website.

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

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

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

Pre-Order Today

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

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Medically Necessary Blitz

Medically Necessary banner

 

Medically Necessary cover

 

LGBTQ Romance, Dark Fantasy, Steamy

Date Published: October 10, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

The threat to all werewolves draws Amir and Oliver together, even as
their wounds threaten to rip them apart.

 

Trust is Earned (Medically Necessary 1): Amir is a General Practitioner
for magical creatures, particularly werewolves. When the leader of all
werewolves comes to him with a problem that presents like psychosis, Amir
needs help. Oliver’s nursing a grieving heart and a chip on his
shoulder. Still, when Amir asks for his help, he jumps at the chance. The
submissive wolf is beautiful.

 


Trust is Fraught (Medically Necessary 2):
As the leader of the werewolves
sinks further into insanity, Amir and Oliver fight prejudice and time to
rescue their alpha. As Oliver and Amir are pulled deeper into the dangers of
the psychic world, their love may be the only thing keeping them sane.


Trust is Sacred (Medically Necessary 3):
Oliver’s terrible secret is
eating him alive. Amir thinks purging and confession are medically necessary
for spiritual and physical well-being, but Oliver will stop at almost nothing
to hide his scars.

Can either of them learn to trust?

 

Medically Necessary paperback
 

 

EXCERPT

 

 

Excerpt from Trust is Earned

He had tended to different members of the Tilthos and Merle werewolf packs
over the years. Being positioned in southern Erie County, located in Upstate
New York, had been the best thing he could do for his medical practice. Once
he’d finally convinced Nicholas Black of the Merle pack in Buffalo, New
York, to work with him as the werewolf equivalent of a midwife, his office was
often full to bursting with pregnant female werewolves.

And it didn’t matter one bit that he spoke Werewelsh, the native
language of most werewolves, with an accent or as only his fourth language.
For Dr. Amir Othman, the prejudice he might have encountered because of his
unusual parentage and his even more unique upbringing was all overshadowed by
one truth. He was good at his job.

That didn’t make him less nervous to meet the alpha above all alphas.
Tilthos Charles, alpha of his own pack and leader of the wolves of North and
South America, was supposedly intimidating. All of which pointed to this
truth: while Amir had healed every magical creature from djinns to kelpies,
and even two dragons, he still worried about doing or saying the wrong thing
in Tilthos Charles’s presence.

What bothered him even more was that he almost qualified as a lone wolf. A
“packless loner,” in werewolf-speak, and that was not a
compliment. He had a technical pack, run by Kreisha Alexander. When that
particular alpha threw his weight around, everyone obeyed. Thankfully, that
pack was in Washington, DC, nearly two hundred miles away. So, unless Alpha
Alexander gave him an edict directly over the phone, as opposed to in an email
or via snail mail, Amir could basically do as he chose.

Except, now the alpha above all alphas was coming to his office and would
surely demand to know why he hadn’t switched his allegiance to a pack up
here in New York. “It doesn’t have to be mine,” the most
powerful werewolf on the planet would say, “but it can’t be you
operating under your own aegis.”

So, when his assistant, Carly, sent him a message that Tilthos Charles was
here, Amir’s pulse picked up. He responded to her message, saying
he’d be in Exam Room Three in under five minutes. Then he did a deep
breathing exercise, using the five senses trick he’d learned as a young
wolf when he first realized he wanted to become a doctor and would be around
blood and anxious magical creatures.

Five things he could see. His fidgety hands. By crossing his eyes, he could
see his nose. His computer screen, which held everything his clinic had on the
alpha above all alphas. Trying to look farther away in an attempt to slow his
racing heart, he looked at the carpet in front of his desk. It was a boring
brown that didn’t hold his attention. Finally, he looked at the door
where he’d hung a poster of a Great Pyrenees, which was the closest
breed to his family’s wolf forms, which were usually white.

Four things he could hear… The thudding of his heart. The rush of blood
in his veins, which meant he was really keyed up still because even though he
was a werewolf with acute hearing, he didn’t usually pay attention to
the sounds of his own or others’ bodies. He struggled hard to refocus
and heard the buzzing of the fluorescent light in the ceiling. He needed one
more thing, so he made his chair creak. Oddly, the sound of something he could
completely control helped him breathe a little easier.

Three things he could touch… The pen in his hand, which he’d been
nervously twirling. He set it down. The feel of the chair under him, with his
suit coat slung over the back. He could also feel his toes in his shoes. He
breathed in more deeply than he’d managed so far and felt still a bit
better.

Two things he could smell… He could no longer smell adrenaline. That
was a good thing. He lifted his hand to his nose and smelled the soap
he’d washed with maybe ten minutes ago.

And one thing he could taste, which was his cold lavender matcha latte.

Glancing at the clock icon on his computer, he saw it had been almost three
minutes. Well, it was now or never. He doubted he’d be calmer if he sat
here longer. So, he stood, straightened his white medical coat, and left the
office. He listened to people talking quietly in the waiting room as he
passed. He smiled at Carly, who mouthed, “Good luck.” Then he
knocked on the door of Exam Room Three.

“Please come in.”

The voice that had responded was lightly accented, and he wondered why no one
had ever told him Tilthos Charles was Hispanic. Then he was in the room, and
he saw there were two people inside. The werewolf was certainly Tilthos
Charles and the psychic vampire… Oh, yes. Tilthos Charles’s mate
was a psychic vampire.

The alpha wolf sat on the exam table and his mate stood at his side. It was
actually the psychic vampire who moved first, holding out his hand. “Dr.
Othman, I’m Luis McLaughlin.”

Amir shook with him and then offered his hand to the burly werewolf. He saw
the wolf’s eyes flicker quickly down to his hand and then away. Then his
hand was taken and Tilthos Charles said, “Please to meet you, Dr.
Othman.”

He sounded it too, but there was something bothering him. Well, and
didn’t that make sense? Folks who were completely healthy rarely came to
the doctor’s office.

“The pleasure is mine,” Amir returned, smiling at both of them.
Then he retreated until he could sit on his stool. He watched Tilthos
Charles’s eyes try to focus on him. “Forgive me, but while I have
some information about your general health, I know very little about your
visual impairment.”

He saw his guess had been right, that the alpha above all alphas indeed had
something wrong with his vision.

“I told you he’d know,” said Luis as his mate brought out a
folded white cane from behind his back.

“Forgive me the test, Dr. Othman,” said Charles, “but
I’ve been seen by too many doctors who miss the obvious until I point it
out to them.” He settled the cane on his leg, keeping one hand on it so
it wouldn’t fall. “We’re here today, not because of my
visual impairment, which has been unchanged since I was born, but because Luis
is convinced there’s something…” He hesitated.

Luis said, “He’s distracted and agitated.”

Amir watched Charles’s nostrils flare and his pupils dilate.
“I’m on edge because Agent Sowerby’s… Shit. I must be
off-balance somehow if I’m about to spill state secrets.” He
smiled ruefully at Amir. “Forgive me. Luis is right. I just can’t
figure out how you’ll help me or if there is any help for the mess
we’re about to be in.”

“May I examine you?”

Charles nodded.

Amir went through all the basics, including sending the alpha werewolf out to
give him a urine sample. When the door closed, he turned to Luis. “How
long has he been on edge?” He could smell the wolf’s almost panic.

“About three weeks. “

“Did anything precipitate his anxiety?”

Luis sighed. “I’m not sure what’s really private. I assume
you’re bound by medical confidentiality?”

“I am.” He could see the psychic vampire hesitating. “Please
tell me everything you can. I cannot be effective while only possessing half
the facts.”

“My mate holds the belief that the head of SearchLight is going to
expose all magical creatures.”

Amir’s mouth went dry. “I know Tilthos Charles probably has the
ear of SearchLight. Is he correct?”

“Absolutely not, but I can’t convince him of that.”

“Has he talked to…” He couldn’t remember the name of
the new head of SearchLight, only that Agent Weinberg had stepped down.

“I’ve tried getting Jack Sowerby to talk to him. No dice. Not that
Agent Sowerby wouldn’t, but Charlie didn’t believe him.”

Amir held up his hand. The bathroom door had creaked open. He turned his head
toward the exam room’s entrance for good measure.

Tilthos Charles entered. “Your assistant took my sample.”

Amir said soothingly, “Please, Alpha, sit down.”

He saw his words had the opposite effect to what he’d intended. Instead
of resting on the table again, Tilthos Charles drew himself up. He was taller
than Amir by half a foot and intimidating as hell.

Sitting on his stool, making himself as nonthreatening as possible, Amir put
his hands palms up on his thighs. “I mean you no harm.”

 

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host
of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily
has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate
quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her
website.

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

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

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

Pre-Order Today

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Medically Necessary Blitz

Filed under BOOK BLITZ