PG13 ADULT Excerpt: Blue Rose by Lena Austin (erotic, GLBT, Menage)

Did you know I consider this book my magnum opus? I present to you my greatest achievement to date:




Blue Rose

Author: Lena Austin
Artist: Renee George

ISBN:	978-1-60168-183-6
Genre:	Paranormal Erotic Romance
Publisher:	Aspen Mountain Press
Publication Date:	02/06/09
Sexual Content:	Erotic/M/M/Menage

Buy Link: http://www.aspenmountainpress.com/fantasy/fantasy/blue-rose/prod_213.html

Synopsis:
Ever read Dante's Inferno? The old boy must have a new nickname—Pinwheel—for all the turning over in his grave he's doing.  

     This time the tourists in Hell are a poisoned warrior princess and her two suitor princes, both of whom have secrets of their own. Their guide is not a gentle philosopher-poet, but a sassy demon with his own reasons for being their escort through all nine levels. They have to find the blue rose in the deepest part of Hell and make it into an antidote potion before the next full moon or the princess dies.  

     Things have changed a little—okay, a lot—since old Dante made his visit. Hell is timeless, existing in all times simultaneously. Along the way they'll meet the Furies, a little thief named Dodger, a few gods and goddesses, and step over Satan's chewing gum and they're getting quite an education in the process.  But time is running out for the princess....

Excerpt:

At long last, her father stood, signaling with a wave that the dancing would begin. Servants rushed to obey, but Zara rescued the bowl of grapes and hid it in a niche behind a tapestry. It would serve her well to have a cool, sweet treat to see her through the hours of dancing ahead.

Defiantly, she popped another into her mouth and grinned like a conspirator at Prince Kennit when he hid a large goblet in the same niche. He leaned over to whisper, "I shall share my water, if you share your grapes."

Nodding agreement, Zara allowed her father to sweep her into his arms for the opening dance. At least dancing quickened the heart and brought a flush to one's cheeks. She would take what she could get in the way of exercise. Undoubtedly by now the stablemen had their orders to tell her that her stallion had a rock in his hoof, a sprain in his foreleg, or any other lie to forestall her riding him away, even for an hour.

No sooner did her father relinquish her hand than a dance slate was pressed into her palm by the seneschal, who'd kindly–he thought—taken a list of partners for her. She glanced down, and read quickly. No prince was permitted more than two dances in a row with her, though there were conspicuous empty spots left on the list for her to discreetly signify her choice by permitting more than two dances with any prince that caught her eye.

Naturally, Prince Bram the Perfect was first on the list. King Ragnar was making his preferences perfectly clear. She was beginning to hate that word.

Zara handed the slate back to the seneschal with a nod of thanks, and raised her arms for Prince Bram to take her back out on the floor. She ignored the tremble in her stomach, and told her fears to settle. He may be boring, but he was the best choice so far.

But her stomach did not settle. It rumbled and grew worse. Her face felt flushed and her fingertips felt as if they were ice cold. She could no longer feel her feet, and every step became an agonizingly icy stab. Zara persevered, knowing it was likely she'd caught some small illness from all the newcomers. Tomorrow, she promised herself a morning of rest.

Many of the older courtiers retired, including most of the contenders after one dance with her. The drunkards stumbled through a dance with her before being discreetly removed by the staff, and the oldsters confessed themselves quite worn out and retired from the field. Only one contender had to be threatened with being fed his balls before he stopped fondling her, so Zara thought she got off lucky.

Finally, only Prince Bram and Prince Kennit remained. Kennit took pity on her feverish face and asked that a small table be set near one of the open windows, permitting a cool breeze to dry the sweat pouring from Zara's brow.

Prince Bram, not to be outdone, fetched her grapes from their hiding place and fed them to her one by one, pausing only when she turned and shared Prince Kennit's goblet.

Finding a common subject to discuss had been difficult, for they, all three, had vastly different interests. The three of them settled on a card game made fashionable in Bram's kingdom the previous summer, and he taught them to play "Bell and Candle" with enthusiasm.

Zara noted their differing styles with interest. Bram played with reckless abandon, bluffing and making daring plays to get desired sets of matches. Kennit played with care and precision, rarely making a bluff but devastating when he did because it was unexpected. She counted the cards and noted the matches already made, and could guess at what would be dealt next. Between them, they rang the bell provided by the staff equally well.

Soon, Zara's illness began to tell upon her. She fought her wavering eyesight and surreptitiously wiped the sweat pouring from her brow, using the ruse of setting the water and grapes on the ledge of the open window to cool them as an excuse for sticking her face in the wind as much as possible, even if the breeze seemed to stick a thousand icy needles in her skin. It dried her sweat and made her appear less like an apple-cheeked peasant, didn't it?

Kennit had escorted her to the window, ostensibly to get a drink for himself from the goblet. He leaned close and whispered, "You are ill, Zara. End this charade and stop teasing. Pick Bram and have done. Go to bed. Your wedding and bedding of his perfection can wait a few more days."

Zara planted her trembling hands on the ledge and ate another grape for its cool sweetness in her hot, dry throat. The floor seemed wreathed in smoke. How odd. Was there fog and the window allowed it entry? Shame washed over her as she realized that's what both the princes thought–that she was teasing and being coy. How wrong they were! "I'm not teasing, Kennit. I can't decide." The fog rose higher, swirling around her thighs. She reached up to close the shutter, and her hand met only air.

Bram's chair scraped. "Watch her. She's going out the window!"

Kennit's hand closed about her wrist. "Stop, Zara. Stop. If you can't choose, then go to bed. None of us will die before the morrow."

Zara swayed and fell into Kennit's arms. "Pardon. Are you sure, Kennit? Why can't you be perfect too?" The fog wrapped around her and enveloped her.

His soft voice was the last she heard. "I am. I'm perfectly me, and that's all I want to be."

Buy Link: http://www.aspenmountainpress.com/fantasy/fantasy/blue-rose/prod_213.html

"Write Drunk..., Edit Sober..." Ernest Hemingway

Lena Austin

PG13 Excerpt: Holiday Howlz- Haulin' Hawg by Lena Austin (Paranormal, BDSM, Shifters, GLBT, Seasonal)

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Holiday Howlz: Haulin' Hawg by Lena Austin Cover art: Reneé George ISBN: 978-1-60521-302-6 Genre(s): Paranormal, Hot Flashes, BDSM Theme(s): Shapeshifters, Christmas, Seasonal Themes, Gay and Lesbian Series: Holiday Howlz Multi-Author Series Length: Hot Flash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1283

Blurb:

In the six months since Loren left his biker lover back in Barkus, Kansas, they've never said those three important words. Now Loren's coming back, and silent BD has plans that involve bungee cords and a motorcycle to prove his love.

Excerpt:

Holiday Howlz: Haulin' Hawg
Lena Austin
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2009 Lena Austin

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Loren drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel of his eighteen-wheeler. Saying "his" even in his mind made him smile. After six months on the road without a break, save for a week's layover in El Paso while the company repaired his antenna, he was ready for a holiday at home.

Home. What a funny word for a guy who'd run away from his last foster home at sixteen and vowed never to be shackled to the system again. Now he was driving for Barkus, Kansas, making his semi scream down I-70 in the winter. Running back to the man of his dreams, Bad Dawg the biker.

The long-legged, slow-talking redhead with a voice like Sam Elliott at his finest was enough to distract Loren from the road and make him smile a shit-eating grin nothing could wipe off his face. Man, he had it bad for BD, and he didn't care about traps and being tied down to a place anymore.

Unfortunately, Loren hadn't given BD a definite arrival time. Naturally, as a low man on the hierarchy of truckers working for the company, he'd gotten all the shitty little jobs none of the others wanted. Loren had done his time and paid his dues, and now the truck he sat in was assigned to him, and him alone. He could customize the berth, up to a point, and had managed to acquire a refrigerator, coffee pot, and a specialized GPS system for truckers. Loren patted the GPS device, sitting atop the Qual-com computer. The luxury of never being lost had been worth every cent.

He hoped BD would stoop from his artistry with customizing motorcycles to help Loren outfit the berth for comfort and function. Eventually, if their relationship worked out for the long haul, Loren would send BD money for the down payment on a Harley to customize.

Loren dreamed of owning a Harley Hawg, customized in blue metallic paint. Not that Loren minded, but riding the bitch seat behind BD was murderous on the ego and the kidneys. Loren wanted his own bike to ride next to BD.

The exit to Barkus was nothing more than a tiny county road sign, but Loren's GPS beeped a warning in plenty of time for him to turn north and head toward the man he loved. The big blue semi made the turn with lumbering grace, considering Loren had dropped off the trailer in KC and was bob-tailing it home before the Qual-com lit up with another load and another delay on his requested holiday time. Four days of bliss with BD.

He hoped. Talking on the phone was fine, considering how the conversations went. BD had never been talkative, and Loren understood his private nature. Hell, a prairie dog shifter had to be cautious to survive, and BD made secrecy into a fine art.

Loren crawled his semi through the town of Barkus. Not only was the day getting on toward dusk, but the small town had strict speed limits. The last thing Loren wanted was a speeding ticket. Not a good way to meet your future father-in-law, especially since the sheriff might not approve of his son's human mate.

Loren winced to himself, still incredulous at the circumstances. A whole town of shifters, mixed with tolerant or ignorant human residents -- a gator shifter, among others! The still-pink scar on his hand reminded him of when BD had bitten him to prove the point.

He turned into the gravel and dirt driveway, which led to BD's home. The house was dark, meaning BD wasn't inside. Sure enough, the lights blazed out the window of the huge barn BD had converted into a workshop. Loren parked his rig in the parking lot mostly used by BD's biker buddies.

Loren sniffed himself cautiously when he got out of the cab. He'd bathed yesterday at a truck stop in Indiana, but he didn't want to offend BD's nose just in case. A guy got pretty darn rank when he could only stop to bathe and do laundry about once a week. Of course, BD had stated clearly when they spoke three days ago that Loren could have another religious experience in the cathedral to cleanliness BD termed a bathroom. Loren intended to take him up on the offer.

Loren walked around to the small side door of the barn and didn't bother to try to muscle open the big double doors. They were for when a bike needed to be driven in for custom work or minor repairs. A wailing scream of metal being ground -- or a tone-deaf banshee chorus warming up -- assailed Loren's ears before he even turned the doorknob.

Loren winced at the painful sound and seriously considered waiting in the truck. The sound was eardrum-shattering through the barn walls and made his skin crawl. Now he knew for certain you could kill with sound. His ears begged him not to open the door, but he had to see BD. He turned the knob, and when the door swung free, he clapped his hands over his ears and stepped into the cavernous barn.

BD was there, in a corner area where a welding setup and other metal-smithing tools stood. In front of him on a bench, clamped to a fare-thee-well, was part of a motorcycle's motor jugs, and BD made a grinder scream as he made minute adjustments to angles on the vanes of the jugs. He had a massive set of sound-deadening earphones on and, from the focused concentration on his face, was deaf and blind to anything but his work.

What Loren knew about customizing bikes would fit in a teacup in comparison to BD, but the way the already cut pieces reflected the lights was beautiful. Someone had undoubtedly paid BD a small fortune, because the Harley sitting nearby was a work of art in baby blue and silver chrome. Loren drooled on his steel toes to go admire, but he dared not.

Loren also recognized that disturbing BD in any manner while he used the grinder could destroy the bike's motor. Those finicky cuts were probably made on precise angles. If he startled BD, he could ruin a month's work. Since leaving BD there suited Loren, he backed out of the barn and shut the door softly. He hiked up to the house, found the spare key right where BD had told him the hiding rock would be, and let himself into the house. He had a little holiday surprise to prepare for one redheaded prairie dog.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1283

Lena Austin

Http://www.LenaAustin.com

Adult Excerpt: Night Critters Collection by Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards (Shapeshifters, Humor, Paranormal, Werewolves, Vampires)

 

It's payday...I mean, Friday in Fiji! Yaaay!

Read an excerpt

Night Critters (Collection) by Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards Cover art: Sahara Kelly ISBN: 978-1-60521-449-8 Genre(s): Paranormal, Collections Theme(s): Shapeshifters Length: Collection

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1439

Blurb:

When hybrids collide with a wolf pack, love and laughter are just the beginning.

The Thornburn Pack was normal, once. Normal for werewolves, anyway.

Then they began to fall in love with mixed breeds like a Chuskie (Half Husky, Half Chihuahua -- don't ask how), a fiery Goth half-angel, a foo-dog/dragon, and an angry fairy with a shotgun.

Life -- and love -- has never been this hilarious.

Excerpt:

With aching slowness, Corbin pulled down the zipper of her minimalist jumpsuit, designed to hug every curve of her body. She'd bought the jumpsuit with Corbin in mind, and he seemed to appreciate the effort on his behalf. His lips followed the zipper's slow trail down, licking and nibbling every inch revealed. "Did I mention how much I love this suit you sprayed on?"

Roni gasped and wriggled beneath him. The tiny bites and soothing licks, moving slowly down to her dripping pussy, made the anticipation increase to unimaginable levels. Most guys hopped on with minimal attention to her needs and rode her like a racehorse doing the two-minute mile. Not Corbin! The human was a master of the slow, sensual lovemaking most women dreamed of. "You're showing me just fine."

Corbin chuckled softly at her moaned answer. He continued to pull the zipper down past her hip joint, but stopped its progress midway to her knee. There, his lips worked their way to the soft flesh on the inside of Roni's thigh. "Open for me, baby."

Obediently, Roni spread herself before him, helplessly caught in her need for his tongue or his cock. She didn't give a rat's ass, as long as she got relief from the rumbling volcano inside her. She could feel her skin heating, knowing her fur was showing and unable to stop it. She just prayed her shaved pussy would be enough to keep the virtually hairless human aroused. "Corbin…"

Her zipper slid down to her knee, exposing more of her flesh. Corbin's hot mouth attacked her pussy like he was a hungry predator. His sensual hum vibrated up her entire body.

Her delighted shudders echoed his hum, and her entire focus narrowed to how his tongue scraped across her swollen clit, and his chin ground into her flowing pussy. One of her hands crept downward and pulled apart her labia to give him full access.

Corbin responded to her silent plea by delving even deeper into his treat. If she'd been an ice cream cone he'd have been swirling his tongue to relish every bit, fueling a thousand fantasies of every woman in view. As it was, he was all hers, and he was a master at his art.

Roni had no warning. Her body stilled only for a second, an eternity of waiting before she exploded. Her back arched, and she clawed the rug to hang on to sanity. Roni screeched his name, helpless and caught in the force of her orgasm.

Her human lover wasted no time. He knelt upright and wiped his chin of her juices with an evil grin of triumph. Had he been a werewolf, such an expression would have been a serious challenge to her as a born Alpha Bitch. Then, he ripped her new jumpsuit to shreds with his bare hands.

The loss Roni counted as a small one. She'd buy another. She restrained herself from the urge to go completely furry and demand a chase in the woods. Poor primate that he was, he'd never scent her out, much less catch her and tame her as an Alpha Male claimed his mate. What a shame. He came so close to perfection, Roni almost howled in despair.

Corbin closed his eyes for a moment and shuddered. He bit his lip and took a deep breath. His dark eyes opened, and he grabbed her ankles. Before Roni could even squeak, he put her feet on his shoulders and hauled her bodily across the carpet until his cock nestled against her still throbbing pussy. "C'mere!"

The Chuskie in her obeyed before the thinking woman caught on. Roni blessed her daily sit-ups and came upward to put her arms around his neck. Seamlessly, she slid down on his cock and fell backwards toward the carpet.

Corbin's strong arms saved her from a nasty bump on the head and gently lowered her back now that he was firmly entrenched inside her. Again, he shuddered, perhaps to avoid coming too soon. He put his hands on her thighs as his brace. "Ready, baby?"

Unable to speak, Roni nodded and grabbed the carpet once more. She'd be at his mercy, and unless she wanted a serious rug burn on the parts not still covered by the remains of her jumpsuit, she had to hang on tight.

The first thrust rocked her back into orgasm. Roni clawed the carpet. Again and again, each thrust shoved her further across the Oriental rug. Ana was going to kill her, but Roni didn't give a royal damn. She howled her lover's name. "Cor-wor-wor-woo-woo!" God, Roni hoped she didn't sound like an idiot.

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1439

Lena Austin

Http://www.LenaAustin.com

Promo*Coming Soon* MAN vs. WILD by Lena Austin

::Bouncing::

 

Book 3 in the Coyotes of Yellowstone Series is coming to Changeling Press MAY 27th. You do Not want to miss it!

Man vs Wild

by Lena Austin cover art by Reneé George

ISBN: 978-1-60521- 118-3

Genre(s): Paranormal

Theme(s): Vampires, Shapeshifters, Gay and Lesbian

Series: Coyotes of Yellowstone

Length: Novella

Coming Soon to Changeling Press

"Stop fighting the wild," said the coyote


About Man vs. Wild:

Survival show star Foxxe Wylder thinks his season ending show in Yellowstone may be as
stale as his career, and he's ready for a break prowling the urban jungles back
home. He didn't plan to hit a coyote on the road, nor that the charming little
canine would turn his world upside down.

Reno never wanted pack life, and the idea of getting a mate and raising a litter of
pups isn't on his wish list. Neither was being hit by Foxxe's SUV. Then,
Foxxe's producer gets an idea-- Foxxe will release the cutest coyote on TV back
into the wild, now that the vet has taken care of him. However, one stubborn
coyote has ideas of his own.




Excerpt (unedited):

Foxxe Wylder downshifted his new toy, a brand new coal black Lincoln Navigator. Yeah, he knew the jokes about how "luxury" and "SUV" were a contradiction in terms, but Foxxe figured he'd earned a few benefits because of his job. He wasn't looking forward to the next challenge that was for sure.

As if he could read his star's mind, Foxxe's producer Wayne tapped on Foxxe's shoulder. "How many more hours before we make it
to Yellowstone? "

Foxxe checked the GPS. Yeah, he loved the gadgets. He wouldn't have the luxury --there was that word again-- of a GPS or even a compass once they started filming the next episode of "Wild Survival" for the audience of the Discovery Channel who ate up every one of Foxxe's adventures of survival. "I'm guessing an hour or two, maybe. Who's our contact again?"

A soft snore from the front passenger side made Foxxe grin. His faithful cameraman Andy snoozed in the pre-dawn darkness, clutching one of his smaller expensive cameras like a kid cuddling a teddy bear. Andy had celluloid on the brain and had since childhood. In truth, Foxxe considered Andy braver and crazier than even himself. Foxxe was an ex-Navy Seal with too many medals for bravery and undetected crime for his own good, but any cameraman who worked documentaries ate great white sharks for breakfast and cleaned his teeth with lionfish quills. Nothing scared those crazy bastards but missing the shot.

Wayne slouched back in his seat. "Dr. Jeff Gleason, a volcanologist. He's your guide in." Wayne pulled out his ever-present notepad and Blackberry from under the paper piles he'd spread all over the back seat. "He's not happy about it, but his bosses at USGS insist he do this. I'm trying to convince him his job includes allowing us to film him. He's a Comanche. Our research
assistant waxed poetic. Apparently he's..."

"...A sex god waiting for a temple or other such shit. Yeah, I heard her." Foxxe sighed. He didn't need Wayne to know his star was gay, and he damn sure didn't want his fans to know, or the network would cancel the show for any excuse they could find. Foxxe held no illusions about his bosses. They were predators, all of them, and if they smelled any sort of weakness in you, they'd exploit it mercilessly. They thought Foxxe was some macho war hero who fucked six women a night, and Foxxe reaped the rewards of their illusions. However, the reality was that Foxxe went without sex more often than not.


Bookmark this link so you're one of the first to get your copy of Man vs. Wild!




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Phoenix Rising Promotions
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