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A Very Good Thing by Kate Douglas

contemporary, ebook, erotic, GLBT, Kate Douglas, m/m, Publisher: Changeling Press Add Comment

A Very Good Thing by Kate Douglas

A Very Good Thing

by Kate Douglas

Changeling Press

eBook BIN: 06160-01978

Caj –who’s actually as straight as they come — has all the earmarks of an adventure in the making. One hot and heavy kiss later, both Caj and Marc are looking at each other in an entirely new light, seeing possibilities far beyond that brief encounter of the sexual kind. They’re looking for a Very Good Thing.

Note: This title has no chapter breaks. Please enjoy the first scene.

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Scene One

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AOEM: Finding Magic by Kate Douglas

dragons, ebook, fey/faery, GLBT, Kate Douglas, m/m, magic/witch, paranormal, print, Publisher: Changeling Press, Series: AOEM Add Comment

Agency of Extraordinary Mates Vol. 1 (Collection)
by Kate Douglas, Eve Vaughn, and Alice Gaines

Changeling Press

eBook ISBN: 978-1-60521-557-0
Print ISBN: 978-1595963628

A dragon, an unhappy Hollywood movie star, a gay elf, and a bodyguard come together on the mystical island of Chimera in Kate Douglas’s Finding Magic.

Prologue

“Cut, people. That’s a wrap. You’ve done a great job on this film. Tomorrow is finito!”
Amanda Carlisle didn’t acknowledge the cheers, nor did she join in. Head down, she rushed from the soundstage and headed for her trailer.
Her personal assistant and bodyguard, all six foot six of big, black male, blocked her entrance. “What’s the rush, missy? That’s not the face I’m used to seeing at the end of a shoot.”
Amanda curled her lip and wished she felt like smiling. “Who the hell do you think you are? Mr. Clean? What’s with the shaved head, Lester?”
Les grinned and tugged at the big gold ring hanging from his left ear. “I thought it complemented the bling. You mean you don’t like the look?”
“You look so damned sexy you make my teeth itch.” Amanda ran her hand down his bare chest. Everything about Lester Ondáge was perfect.
Well, almost everything.
“Ms. Carlisle? Over here!”
A flash bulb momentarily blinded her.
“Oh shit.” Amanda ducked her head and slipped around Les. He moved his big frame aside and she raced into the trailer.
Les closed the door behind her, but she still heard his deep voice and the mumbles of disgruntled paparazzi.
“No pictures of Ms. Carlisle, fellas. Now, how’d you get back here? This area is off limits to press.”
“Is it true? Has Franklin dumped Amanda from No Love Again?”
“What’s the deal, Lester? Rumors are flying fast and furious. What about the reports of all the dissent on the set of Tomorrow? Word’s out Ms. Carlisle is getting real hard to work with, that she put the film way over budget.”
“Ms. Carlisle is always a professional. Word of her being replaced on the No Love Again cast is pure rumor. You know how it is in this business. Now, the lady is tired and she needs her rest. We’ll see you at the cast party, I imagine.”
Amanda groaned and buried her head in her hands. She’d forgotten about the damned party. She heard the door close, felt the warm strength of Lester’s hands working the strained muscles in her neck.
“Good Lord, Les. Now that’s magic.”
“You’re tight as a spring, missy. Can I get you some Ibuprofen?”
“I’d rather have a glass of brandy. A big one.”
“You can have a small one and that’s it. As tired as you are, you’d be on your cute little ass by dinnertime. I’m sure those jokers would love a picture of that.”
Les poured a small shot of amber liquid into a plastic cup, then squatted down in front of Amanda and handed it to her. He wrapped her small hands in his big ones, cradling hers as she held the cup. “It’ll be fine, sweetie. Relax.”
Amanda leaned close and brushed her lips over Les’s extraordinary mouth. He kissed her back, his full lips caressing hers with just the right pressure to hint of more.
“Damn you, Lester. You’re perfect. Why the hell are you gay?”
He leaned back and grinned at Amanda. “That’s the way the good Lord made me, sweetie. Just like he made you the most gorgeous woman on earth with a heart so full of love you sometimes make me think of putting the moves on you, just to feel your glow.”
Amanda snorted. “Yeah. Right.” She cupped the side of his face with the palm of her hand. “Thank you, Les. You always make it better.”
Les sighed. “I can’t fix this, though, can I?”
Amanda shook her head. “The magic’s gone. I felt it from the first line of the script. It was a damned good story and I blew what could have been an Oscar quality performance. Les, I don’t know what to do. Those guys were right. Franklin’s trying to force me off his movie. William said…”
“William’s an ass.”
“He’s also my agent, and a damned good one. He said Franklin’s people are planting the word all over town that I’m through, that I’ll kill the project.” She sniffed and took a sip of brandy.
Les brushed her hair, bleached silver blonde for the film, back from her face. “You’re a professional, but you’re human. You’re tired. You’ve done three films, back to back, and you haven’t taken even a weekend break.”
There wouldn’t be a break for her now, either. No Love Again was due to start shooting on Monday. In Chicago. Damn, she hated Chicago.
“I’ve got an idea, but you might not like it.” Les stood up and reached into the overhead compartment where he kept her papers. He pulled a long envelope out of the stack then sat down in the small chair next to Amanda’s.
Les didn’t open it. He sat there, tapping the envelope on his knee, staring at Amanda as if he were contemplating the end of the world.
Amanda opened her mouth to ask him what the hell was going on, when he took a deep breath and held up the envelope. “You’re not going to like what I think you should do, but hear me out, okay?”
Amanda frowned and nodded. This was so unlike Les. He actually seemed nervous.
“I want you to have William contact Franklin, tell him you think Ashley Jenson would make a better Lisa than you. Pull yourself off the film. Don’t give him the chance to do it… it would hurt your career too much. You know Franklin would love to get out of the contract and…”
Amanda sat back and blinked. No way in hell would…”I don’t break contracts, Les. You know that.”
“I said, hear me out.” He stood up, paced a few steps away, then whirled around. “This is an invitation to a very special resort. I’ve heard of it but never knew for sure it really existed. I checked. This invitation is for real and it’s addressed to you. It’s an island called Chimera — a Caribbean island smack-dab in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle. No paparazzi, no one who knows who you are, no make-up people knocking on your door at four in the morning, just a beautiful island where you can relax, regroup…”
Amanda sighed, caught up in the mesmerizing cadence of Les’s soft words. He described heaven. Warm sands, endless miles of beach, an elite clientele completely disinterested in her Hollywood status.
“Think about it, sweetie. It’s your chance to…”
“Get the magic back.”
Amanda’s whisper hung between them. She looked up at Lester and smiled. Suddenly it all felt right. “Maybe you’re right, Les. Tell you what, I’ll do exactly what you say, but there’s one condition.”
Les blinked. Obviously he hadn’t expected her to give in so quickly.
“I’ll drop out of No Love Again and I’ll take this vacation you’re so convinced I need, but only if you go with me.”
The expression on Lester’s face was worth any contract for any movie ever made. “Close your mouth, Lester. You’ll catch a fly.” Amanda reached across the small space between them and snatched the envelope out of his suddenly lifeless fingers. “I’m not trying to seduce you, Lester. Think about it. You work just as hard as I do. You’re just as lonely as I am. Separate rooms, we go our own way, but I’ll feel safer knowing you’re nearby. Will you come with me?”
Les cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m not on the invitation.”
Amanda stood up, feeling more energized, more alive, than she’d felt in ages. “You are now. Here.” She handed the envelope back to Les. “Make the arrangements and see how soon we can arrive. I think it’s time for both of us to find the magic.”
* * *
Prince Lorcan, heir to the Northern Realm of the Lands of Eldar, ruler of the Northern Eldar, direct descendent of the First Kindred, Dragon Clan and a man in his physical and mental prime leaned over the stone basin and puked.
His manservant, Tady, stood beside him, holding a clean damp towel and a glass of minted water.
Lorcan raised his head, took the towel from Tady and carefully wiped his face. “I swear, I am going to kill my mother. Where does she find these hideous females? I can’t do it anymore. By the gods, that last woman tasted of six-day-old fish! I will not kiss another, nor will I pick one of these damned fortune hunters to be my bride. My mother will not select my Chosen One.”
He grabbed the glass of minted water, rinsed his mouth and spit.
Tady nodded, his eyes downcast, his hands now folded over his chest. “As my Lord wishes.”
Lorcan tossed the towel in the basin. “Cut the crap, Tady. I’m serious.”
“I understand, milord. No crap. Your dinner awaits you.”
“Ya know, Tady, you’d make a damned fine wife.” Lorcan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sauntered over to the table, lifted a silver lid and sniffed the savory fowl simmering within a blend of mixed vegetables and sauce.
“I’m perfectly willing, milord.”
Lorcan’s laughter burst out of him. “I know you are, you twit. I’m the one who prefers the opposite gender. It’s merely that, other than the physical, you have all the qualities I want in a wife. You’re loyal, entertaining and a wonderful cook.” Lorcan patted his loyal manservant on the shoulder. “You’re not bad looking, either, but as much as I wish it, you just don’t turn me on.”
“I’m sorry, milord.”
Lorcan laughed again, shaking his head as Tady carefully pulled the royal chair away from the table and seated his master. “Join me? There’s more than enough.”
“T’wouldn’t be proper, milord.”
“Proper, hell… I’m in charge and I command you to join me for dinner. It looks delicious.”
Tady sighed.
Lorcan knew exactly what went through the smaller Elf’s mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his master to act the part of the prince of the realm.
So be it. Lorcan had made his decision. There would be no nuptials. No new Elven queen for the Dragon Clan. Not unless he found his Chosen One, a long shot by anyone’s standards. He’d been perfectly happy for all these many years cheerfully screwing whichever sweet young thing crossed his path. He’d not had any complaints, merely the occasional whimper from a wench who expected more than the princely cock thrust between her thighs.
So, he’d make the decree himself, that he, Lorcan of the Northern Realm, should hereafter be known as the Bachelor Prince, a playboy among men… or Elves. If Tady read it, standing on the uppermost balcony of the castle while dressed in his finest livery, it should go over quite well.
Or not. Lorcan stared at his plate, his appetite gone. Even the chilled mug of dark ale didn’t tempt him. What he needed was a break, a short vacation from his mother’s insistence that he wed, from the constant parade of horribly ineligible, eligible women.
“Why is it,” Lorcan asked, raising his head to glare across the table at Tady, “that the word eligible equates with tedious?”
Tady’s snort was surprisingly unprofessional. “Possibly, milord, because your mother determines who is eligible?” Tady lifted his mug of ale and took a long, slow swallow. He smacked his lips with obvious relish. “Have you thought of searching on your own?”
Lorcan shook his head. “It’s not a bad idea. Unfortunately, can you see me running that one by dear old mom? Besides, I really don’t intend to wed.”
“There’s always Chimera.”
Lorcan raised his head and blinked. Now why the hell hadn’t he thought of Chimera? It was the perfect solution. A beautiful tropical island hidden in the midst of the Bermuda Triangle, accessible by humans — appropriate humans — only by invitation. Accessible by creatures such as Lorcan whenever the need for escape — or a suitable mate — grew strong.
“I swear, Tady. I just might choose you for my bride. That’s a brilliant idea! We’ll leave in the morning.”
“We, milord?”
“We. Pack your bags. We’re going on vacation.”

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A Changeling for All Seasons (Collection)

Christmas, dark fantasy, ebook, erotic, futuristic, holiday, Kate Douglas, paranormal, print, Publisher: Changeling Press, sci-fi, time travel, Valentine's Day 1 Comment

A Changeling for All Seasons
by Kate Douglas and Kate Hill and Sahara Kelly and Judy Mays and Shelby Morgen and Angela Knight and Willa Okati and Marteeka Karland and Lacey Savage

Changeling Press

eBook ISBN: 987-1-60521-009-4
Print ISBN: 978-1-59596-280-5

Ten unforgettable erotic tales to warm your nights and keep you in holiday spirits all year long!

Angela Knight – A Vampire Christmas
Sahara Kelly – A Christmas Pageant
Judy Mays – Jingle Balls
Marteeka Karland – Sealed With A Kiss
Kate Douglas – My Valentine
Shelby Morgen – Changeling
Willa Okati – Elven Enchantment
Kate Hill – Jolene’s Pooka
Lacey Savage – Chemistry to Burn
Shelby Morgen – Troll Under The Bridge

Filled with the unexpected, A Changeling For All Seasons offers something to savor for every palate. From humorous to magical, from Christmas to St. Patrick’s Day to the 4th of July, these stories are alight with unbridled lust, sensuous passion, and hot, hot sex, guaranteed to entangle your senses and leave you breathless.

Chapter One:
My Valentine by Kate Douglas

North Dakota, 1918
Ginny took one last, nervous glance at the northern sky and slapped the old cow on the butt. She watched the scrawny beast trot out through the open gate with a sense of the inevitable. The chickens had already gone to roost in the small tangle of willows near the creek and the horse had been dead so long she didn’t even give his skinny carcass, still lying somewhere in the back forty, a second thought.
As she turned to head back to the house, though, Ginny paused a moment to think long and hard on what she was about to do. Her gaze fell on the two graves near the old oak. One, still fresh, she would always think of with loathing, the other, dug a year ago, she thought of with a sweet pain that never left her heart.
Soon, my precious babe. I’ll be with you soon, God willing.
The good Lord didn’t look kindly on someone ending their own life, but with any luck, Ginny hoped He might make an allowance for her. And if not… well, she’d done all she could to make a go of it out here on the bitter plains of North Dakota.
She’d almost celebrated when Richard died of the influenza last week. She was free, now. Free to join her sweet baby boy, free to leave this world that had brought her nothing but misery.
Oh, Joel…
Richard hadn’t wanted her to name the babe, the perfect child she’d held close to her heart and her aching breasts for such a brief time. Her husband’s anger still burned in Ginny’s memory. He’d blamed the woman who bore him a dead son, cursed her, then wrenched the lifeless little body out of her arms, wrapped it in a bloodstained blanket, and buried Joel in a hastily dug hole near the oak.
Ginny had named him Joel after a little friend she’d had in a time long ago, that almost fantasy time before her parents had died, before her uncle had bartered her to Richard Matson.
Traded for an almost-new shotgun and a beat-up mare. That was the extent of her worth. There’d not be much value at all, now. Now that Ginny Matson was all used up.
A gust of icy wind lifted the hem of her threadbare skirt. Stinging drops of rain cut through her thin shawl and she glanced skyward once more. The temperature would drop quickly now. By morning, this gray and brown landscape would be covered with ice, frozen solid. It might be mid-February, but temperatures plummeting below zero were typical for this Godforsaken land.
Ginny opened the door and took one last look at the barren log and sod cabin Richard had called their home. She’d done her best. She’d tried so hard, even after Joel’s little body was in the ground, even when Richard had beaten her half to death. She’d tried, but it hadn’t mattered.
Nothing mattered. Nothing at all.
She stepped inside, went directly to the wooden cupboard near the dry sink. Took down a beautifully carved ivory box that had once belonged to her father and withdrew a small, lacy card.
Tears filled her eyes, but she willed them away. No, this was not a day for tears. That day had been exactly one year ago, February 14, 1917, the day her precious Joel was born.
The same day he died without ever seeing the sunrise, much less the beautiful little card she’d made for him. Ginny stroked the finely woven lace surrounding a paper heart, a precious scrap of fabric she’d saved from her mother’s wedding gown… all she had left of her mother’s.
The only gift Ginny’d made for her son.
Carefully, she set the card on the small wooden table in the center of the one room cabin and propped it there, against the stub of a candle.
Be My Valentine. Ginny stroked the letters she’d drawn so carefully during the long, slow hours of labor, and smiled. Today, God willing, she’d see her baby boy again.
Wrapping her thin shawl around her shoulders, Ginny walked slowly outside, closed the cabin door behind her, and sat down on the front step to face the blizzard.
* * *
One minute he’d been enjoying the sweet song of angels and a bit of celestial cheer, the next he was slogging through a freezing blizzard on the back of a shivering white stallion.
Val glanced skyward and shook his head. What he’d really like to do was shake his fist at the Boss, but he figured He wouldn’t take that sort of thing lightly.
Especially now. Not if what Val suspected had actually happened.
Be careful what you wish for…
He’d wished for love, for the chance to understand and experience the emotion, the passion and the physical, sensual side of love. Val never dreamed it would actually happen.
For whatever reason, his Lord had seen fit to release him from his vows. Val accepted the knowledge with a soul-deep certainty that left him feeling strangely empty. To have existed so long with a finite set of rules — now to have those rules changed without warning or preparation.
He sent a silent word of thanks skyward, careful to hide whatever misgivings he felt.
Why now? Now, when he was finally getting used to the lifestyle, the perfect weather, the sameness of days, always clear and warm, the sense of “otherworldliness” one felt when no longer attached to a temporal existence.
An icy blast hit him. Val shivered and hunched his shoulders against the wind. Couldn’t get more temporal than this. Val hadn’t been cold since, oh, around the third century. There was that icy dungeon just before Claudius had him put to death. Water running down the walls, cold blasts of wind through a metal grating. Not a particularly pleasant spot to spend his final days, though he didn’t actually remember dying.
Waking up surrounded by angels… now that was memorable.
Angels who were a lot warmer than he was about now. Val glanced skyward and shivered again, almost missing the camaraderie, the fellowship and friendships he’d found over the millennia.
Powerful winds blew ice crystals horizontal to the ground. If it weren’t so blasted cold, he might appreciate the beauty, the power of a storm like this, but whatever clothing he was wearing, though it was definitely better than a linen tunic, wasn’t sufficient to keep him warm.
Val glanced down at his legs, covered in rough blue britches. The fabric was stiff, like the cloth used for sails on fishing boats. His coat was more familiar, made of some type of hide with fur around the collar. Wool gloves protected his hands, leather boots covered his feet and lower legs. A woolen scarf wrapped over and around his oddly shaped, wide-brimmed hat. It appeared to serve the double purpose of holding the hat down on his head and the blowing snow out of his collar.
Whatever the purpose, it wasn’t enough to keep him warm, and from the look of the storm in the fading light of afternoon, he’d better find shelter, and fast.
He gave the horse his lead, figuring at least one of them would know which way to go. Val certainly didn’t have a clue. He had no idea when this was, much less where. At least he had some idea of why, though the details weren’t clear.
A blast of icy air practically lifted him off the saddle. He clamped his knees down tight and leaned close against the beast’s neck.
A few moments later, the horse snorted and jerked to a stop. Val raised his head. A small building with a porch across the front stood directly in front of him, barely visible through the swirling snow. White drifts blocked the door, but at least the cabin would offer shelter.
Slowly, stiffly, Val crawled off the horse. Grabbing the halter, he led the animal around behind the cabin in search of shelter. He found a small lean-to, pulled the saddle off the large beast and led him into a protected stall out of the wind. From the musty odor, this had obviously been home quite recently to at least a cow or two.
Val couldn’t find any grain, but he did find a few flakes of hay. It wasn’t much, but should keep the horse happy for now. Val broke the ice on the water trough. The stallion snorted, as if just being out of the frigid blast of wind had raised his spirits.
Val spotted a heavy striped blanket neatly folded over a sawhorse, grabbed it, and covered the horse’s back. The animal turned his head and whinnied, as if in appreciation.
Rubbing his hands together, Val walked once more into the howling blizzard and around to the front porch. The cabin appeared empty, cold and dark without fire or light, but with any luck he might find enough dry wood inside to start a fire. Then and only then would there be a chance to figure out what he’d been sent back for. Freeing a man of his vows, returning him to the mortal plane… neither was an act lightly taken.
Pondering the potential challenges facing him, Val headed up the stairs to the front door.
He almost fell over the woman’s body. Buried in drifted snow, she slumped against the porch railing, as cold and still as an ice sculpture. Her hands were frozen, clasped around a thin shawl that barely covered her shoulders. Her eyes were closed, her dark hair stiff with sleet.
Heart suddenly heavy in his chest, Val carefully lifted the woman in his arms and carried her inside the tiny cabin. He couldn’t tell if she still lived, saw no sign of pulse or breath, but finally he understood.
This fragile being was the reason he’d been yanked back to life.

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