Saturday, July 28, 2018

It's Caturday!

Did you miss Hot Tin Roof? It’s part of the Extra Cream box set at Changeling Press: The set also includes With Extra Cream, Cougar by the Tail, and Zader’s Menagerie.


Leron Wilder is a jaguar of the Kind Species, big cat shifters infected with vampyre blood. Nothing has gone right for Leron since his best friend, Jag, mated with the owner of the local coffee shop.

Corinne Nelson loves her new home and her new job as a waitress at the Coffee Swirl, and she's really hoping she won't have to move on this time. Life's finally looking up--until the hottest man she's ever met walks into the shop--and licks her hand!

The lot at the Coffee Swirl filled up fast. Leron saw Jag’s Lotus right in front. He really did miss the guy. He couldn’t pop in on him like he used to in the mornings, not with Barbara there, but he could always catch him at the Swirl.
“Now, the Lotus, that’s a real car.”
“Jesus Christ, get the fuck out of my car, Trent. You better pray Jag will take your ass back to the compound.”
“I’ll ride with him because you’re in a pissy mood.”
Leron stepped from the car and slammed the door shut, wincing at the force he used. He bounded up the steps, taking two at a time. He walked inside and saw Jag’s head come up immediately in the booth where they usually sat.
“Hey, man. How you been? Trent, what’s up?” Jag looked happy as hell to see him and that improved Leron’s mood a little.
“Stopped by to catch up, check on how you’re doing.”
“He misses you,” Trent chimed in.
Leron wheeled around, collared the youngster, and slammed him against the plate glass window. His temper was on a short fuse today. His claws had begun to emerge when he heard Barbara’s voice. “Let him go, Leron.”
Shit. He brushed his hand down the front of Trent’s tee. “Just straightening the kid up a bit. He’s sloppy.” A hiss whistled past his teeth. “Sorry, Barb.”
“I’ll get you a coffee, you go talk to Jag. By the way, he misses you too.” She grinned and went behind the counter. She’d made him happy. Leron had started to feel like a girly-man pining away for the company of his best friend. It was good to know his buddy felt the same way.
He flopped into the seat across from Jag and grinned at the cat.
“Kid getting on your nerves?”
“He’s everywhere, always into something. Thinks he’s a badass.”
The door to the back of the shop opened, and Leron glanced up. His nostrils flared at the magnificent smell that assailed him. Citrus, which reminded him of oranges.
Long, honey-colored hair flew in a spray around slender shoulders as the woman spun with a tray in her hand. He caught his breath and held it. Christ, she was tall. The most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Hazel eyes glanced across the room and locked with his. A whoosh of air left his mouth on a moan.
“Easy, big guy,” Jag said, following the direction of his eyes.
“Who is she?”
“Corinne. Cory Nelson. Things picked up a bit so Barb hired her. She’s new in town and needed a job.”
“Where’s she from?”
“I could ask Barb. Why?”
Leron faced Jag. “No particular reason.” His heart beat like a drum. Her scent wafted across the room and teased him. The day had just gotten better. He rolled his head around, but the muscles remained tight. His fangs tingled. This wasn’t a feeling he liked. Damn, maybe the guy he fed from that morning did drugs or something.
“Leron, you okay?”
“I don’t know. Lately I’ve been a little distracted. That’s all. Want to get together at the compound tonight? A bunch of us are going to hang out.”
“Sure. I’ve been meaning to come by anyway. I’ll let Barb know.” The joy that lit Jag’s face was pathetic. Leron hoped he never got pussy whipped like that.
“Here’s your black coffee.” It was her. The silken sound of her voice slid right down to his cock. As she was putting his cup on the table, he tried to touch her hand. She pulled away and the hot liquid sloshed over the side and burned her hand. The cup rattled in the saucer and tilted over. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.”
Leron spoke quickly. “It was my fault. Are you okay? Let me look.” An angry red blister had already formed on the back of her hand. His cat instincts took over and he brought her hand to his mouth and began to lick the red welt. His tongue lapped at her like she was today’s special. He had lost his mind and didn’t know where the fuck to find it.
Her body trembled and she tried to pull her hand back. “Mister…”
“Let her go.”
Jag’s tone was soft and non-threatening, but Leron saw red. Best friend be damned. He had no right to tell Leron he couldn’t touch her. Suddenly, some sense came back to him. “Cory, right? I’m sorry… I…” He never got to finish. She left so fast, his head spun. He watched her tight ass move away down the aisle. Son of a bitch!
Confusion rained down on him. His heart beat out of control, his lungs were full of her scent, and his dick was ready to explode. The taste on his tongue was divine. He heard Jag’s laugh from a million miles away. “What?” The sound of the swinging door to the back drew his attention. Barb stormed their way. Hell.
Jag said, “You’re in for it now.”
She stopped at the table, and her brow quirked up. He looked down at the spilled mess still there. “Look, you can’t come in here and lick my employees. Keep that catty stuff outside. And you,” she wheeled around to Jag, “are no better. Why didn’t you stop him?”
“For the same reason he couldn’t stop me when I wanted you.”
Leron’s head snapped up, and he looked from one to the other with his jaw hung open. Sometimes their blood bond was a pain in the ass. “No way, dude. No. Fucking. Way.”
“Way, very much way. You just licked your mate’s hand.” Jag laughed again and Barb joined him.
"Aww, Jesus Christ!"

Growl and roar-it’s okay to let the beast out. J. Hali Steele

Thursday, July 26, 2018

Did You Meet Castle Briggs?

Can’t Touch This

Rich alpha wolf shifter Castle Briggs can have any woman he wants with just the crook of his finger. Until he meets a human named Harlow Hardison. She makes it clear she’s had it with rich, overconfident jerks trying to own her. All she wants is a no-strings-attached good time with a man who isn’t afraid of her darker urges. Castle’s happy to dominate her in his special playroom, but he wants more than a kinky fling.

He’s going to have to do a lot more than crook his finger to get past Harlow’s fears and make her his forever.

A paranormal wolf shifter romance

How dare he act as if she already was his for the night? Harlow shifted on the stool as warmth continued to stir where the biker had touched her. Another minute staring into those weird eyes, she’d have done anything he asked and no way would that shit happen. Her first evening out, Harlow intended to enjoy the whole show, not just one act. Also, she didn’t like how they discussed women as though they were something to be passed between them.
The base of her spine thrummed to life, butterflies took flight in her stomach, and her breathing kicked up a notch the instant the one called Castle found her. With his hand placed low on her back again, he drew tiny circles with his fingertips as he whispered in her ear, “I’d find you in the eye of a hurricane, darlin’.”
“You should take your friend’s advice and seek one of the interested twenty.” Why in hell had she remembered those words? Lord, he was gorgeous and something snapped inside when he traced up her spine to the back of her neck. It was a feeling Harlow didn’t dare turn over in her mind and look at. Not yet.
“You’re interested.” He tilted her chin up and peered in her eyes while his free hand began an unhurried descent back to the tingling spot above her butt. “I smell it.”
“Mr. Briggs—”
“The formalities are over, honey.” He released Harlow but not before kissing her hard, long—and it shattered her goddamn world. “I’ll give you some time.”
The arrogant bastard walked away and left Harlow sitting there, mouth open and heart banging against her ribcage. “Time for what?” The words were lost among music and laughter in the club, which teemed with more beautiful people than she’d ever seen gathered in one place. She thought about leaving but decided not to let the night be a waste, nor to allow him to think he’d run her off. She would at least eat something before heading home. Signaling a server, Harlow placed an order and settled in to enjoy the atmosphere. Her salad arrived and she ate as much as she could.
She was ready for her second and last shot of gin when the bartender magically placed one in front of her. “Compliments, ma’am.”
She glanced past the server and spied Castle talking to a young woman who draped herself over his body. When she wrapped arms around his neck, he untangled them and eased her away. The downturn her lips took irritated Harlow. Why did women do that to themselves? Her mother had taught her to let the man take the lead, allow him to feel as though he’d laid claim, and then if you want him, grab hold with both hands and show the world he’s yours. Sliding the drink away, she told the bartender, “Tell the sender I’m not interested then bring my bill, please.” Her mother didn’t enlighten her on how to tell a man about her uncommon desires, desires most considered abnormal. Harlow’s marriage was proof the theory on letting a man take the lead did not work. Harlow yearned for a man who could…
“It’s paid.”
Harsh words tumbled through her lips at his untimely interruption. “I said get my bill.” A flush of heat suffused her cheeks when Harlow realized she continued to stare at the man across the bar.
“There’s no charge, ma’am.” He glanced over his shoulder and she assumed he looked at Castle Briggs.
Getting up, she skirted stools until she stood patiently waiting as another woman settled in Brigg’s lap. “How much do I owe you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Evidently you’re the owner since you parked in the reserved for owner spot.”
“You’re all alike. You have money and you think you can do whatever you want.” Lord, why couldn’t she leave it alone. “What did my dinner cost?”
“Since I didn’t buy it, I couldn’t say.” Anger flashed in his eyes before he scoured the room. He motioned for the bartender who leaned over and whispered in Castle’s ear. He returned his attention to Harlow. “It’s on the house, and my apologies, it won’t happen again.”
Now she felt stupid as she wondered where the drink and money for her meal came from. All she could do was mumble, “Sorry,” before she turned to leave.
“For what?” Lord, why the heck did she snap? Sweat gathered on Harlow’s back, eliciting a shiver beneath the overhead fan as she stared at Castle.
His friend sat with a blonde at a table across the aisle from the barstool Castle occupied. “Yeah, boss?”
“Make sure Ms. Hardison gets home safely.”
“I can take care of myself.”
A sardonic smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’ll take better care of you.”
“You can’t touch me.” A whole host of female patrons, including the one wiggling between his thighs looked as if they would scratch her eyes out and Harlow glared back giving as good as she got. “You have enough company.” She didn’t contemplate why that bothered her.
“Pull the claws in, I only want yours tonight.”
Why she felt pity for the women surrounding him Harlow couldn’t say, but damn if she was walking out without letting him know just what a lowlife cad she considered him. Why did she even care who came on to the bastard? She wouldn’t become one of them. It dawned on her it was exactly what she wanted, and it angered her, goaded her into acting unreasonable. Harlow flashed her brightest smile and enjoyed the fact his eyes reflected the idea he thought he had won. “It must be horrible to search for such a tiny prick every time you have to pee.”
“What the fuck did you say?”
“Surely a man with balls and a cock wouldn’t have to surround himself with so many adoring fans.”
A hush fell over the room.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

See Me in the Dark

A new Club Evolve story. It's a 20+K bonus book in the Club Evolve box set. Yup, all six books in one sexy box and a new story to enjoy. These doors won't be closing for a while...

Evolve—a club for men
Come back for more

See Me in the Dark

Scars so deep—will they destroy his soul?

Preston Woodley hid his scars from the world. It’s been nearly a decade since a lover has seen or felt them. He only comes alive in the dark, on his back. Pres never allows anyone to touch him there. He longs to find someone who sees him for the man he is and not a monster shaped by a horrible accident in his past.

Robert ‘War’ Warren, recruited into the biker lifestyle early, has not only committed crimes, he’s been stabbed and shot. War has seen and done it all and he doled out enough payback to earn a brief stint in jail. Scrambling to have more, he’s reached a pinnacle of success and now seeks peace. What he used to be, what he could easily become again, may ruin his life forever.

“Name’s Lodge. Would you be able to move to another booth or table? This one should have held a reserved sign.”
Standing, Preston said, “Sure. My beer hasn’t…”
“It’s good, LD. I don’t mind if he stays.” Robert Warren allowed his eyes to take the man in for the second time tonight. Something about him. “Didn't mean to damn near knock you over earlier.”
“I probably shouldn’t have blocked the entrance. My names Preston.”
“Call me War.”
“Jesus, man, you don’t introduce yourself to someone you barreled over running late and then tell him to call you War.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t know him like that.”
War let his eyes rake the stranger’s face and body once more. “I want to know him like that.”
“We’re not going to get this settled tonight, are we?”
“LD, I’m already working for you. If you require it on paper, we can hash out particulars another time.” He watched his friend eyeball Preston. “Okay?”
“Tomorrow. My shop. That order can’t wait.”
“For one of those rubs you cater to?”
“Rich urban bikers are loaded with cash.”
“And will help pay for that two-million-dollar monstrosity you had built. I get it. Tomorrow I’ll drop by Custom Deviations. Now, Blondie’s cutting eyes this way because you’re lingering. I’m not responsible for the fall out.”
“Christ, War, do you have to always be a bastard?”
“As I remember, in Philadelphia, you weren’t that much better.”
“Tomorrow. Ten AM sharp.”
“Make that noon and we got a deal.”
LD walked away finally giving War a chance to really meet Preston. Seeing as his drink hadn’t arrived, War flagged down a waiter. “Can you put a rush on…” He turned to Preston. “Have a seat. You said beer?” War told the server, “Bring two of those east coast lagers and that’ll be all for now.”
“Thanks, I haven’t waited long.”
You shouldn’t wait at all.” Their beers arrived and War smiled when Preston waved away the glass and tilted the bottle up. “Damn. I like that.”
“Your mouth.”
“Excuse me?”
“You didn’t come here for beer because unless you order the right brand, it all tastes like piss.” When Preston pushed his bottle away and stood, War leaned closer. “I won’t ask you to stay but I sure as hell would like you to. One thing you should know is I don’t play games.”
“I have no intention of starting anything.”
“You sure about that?” Leaning back, he studied the man. Brown hair neatly trimmed curled above his collar and eyes the color of cognac continued to observe War. The navy suit was cut to fit nobody’s ass but his and fingernails were recently manicured. War liked a man who took care of himself. He also appreciated that his build was just shy of athletic and not bound in muscle. “Is this your first time at Evolve?”
“I moved here from Detroit a month ago.”
“Let me guess? You didn’t live within five miles of that city on any side. I’d say Bloomfield Hills, maybe Birmingham.”
“You know the area?”
“Went to Kettering.” Preston’s forehead scrunched and eyes reflected doubt before changing to surprise and for some reason, it pissed War off. He knew Preston’s type. Superior. Better than. “On second thought, you can run along now.”
“I wanted a beer not a rude dissection by a biker.”

“When I dissect your ass, you’ll know it.” War rose and stepped close enough for his boot toes to touch shiny oxfords. “Maybe next time I’ll show you what I mean.” He walked away leaving Preston stand there and hoped like hell the jackass took another swallow of beer and choked on it.

AND just a bit more:
“You’re early.”
“Did my fabrication delivery arrive?”
“Yup. Needs your finessing and assembly. Everything else is ready to go.” Lodge sat with feet on his desk reading a custom bike magazine. “You know, strategically placed PR, a word here and there, this shit could really take off.”
“What the hell are they outfitting the building next door for, LD?”
“A few additions to improve our facilities.”
“Additions my ass. They’re machine tools. I know a milling machine when I see one, jackass.” War flopped on the sofa and stretched out.
“You never know what you might wish you had on hand.”
“I’m not working fulltime, LD. Those days are over.”
“I have a couple engineers on staff.”
“Yeah, right.”
“And don’t lay on my couch.”
“What the fuck’s it in here for?”
“Jesus, you’re in a pissy mood. Try getting more sleep at your house.” Lodge’s head swiveled toward the door at the sound of a bike pulling into the shop. “Shit. Nothing is sacred.”
War laughed. “Don’t like the lover on your bike?”
“I worry because he’s only been riding a real bike for a few months. Jim learned on dirt bikes. A whole different animal.”
“Don’t want that pretty ass all scarred up, huh?”
“Fuck you.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Jim, I thought you might sleep in after working last night.”
“I’m good, not due in until six. I’m meeting with the band to go over a few things about lighting and Zed’s new sound system. I’ll nap later.” He turned to War. “What the hell did you say to Preston Woodley? He might stop in to hear the band tonight.”
That pulled War to a sitting position. “How do you know him?”
“He introduced himself while you were occupied at the other end of the bar.” Jim laughed. “Right before Sanders threw your ass out.”
“Dress code is bullshit. It’s a goddamn, highfalutin bar.”
Lodge placed his feet on the floor and tossed the magazine on his desk. “I told you about the dress code and Sanders.”
“Shit, I was surfing and got caught up in the waves. Didn’t have anything with me but my leathers and didn’t want to be late.”
“Lord help me. You were late.”
Jim perched on the edge of the desk. “Preston also noticed your disregard for dress. Oh, that reminds me.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a ten. “He wanted me to give you a message.”
“Yeah, what?”
“The message, Jim.”
“Oh.” He winked at Lodge. “He said tell Mr. Warren no thank you. Actually, he asked me to give you your money back after he paid for his own beer and said no thank you to the next time.” He handed the bill to War.
“That foppish prick!”
“Shit,” Lodge laughed. “That struck a nerve.”

“Kiss my ass. I’m out.”

Life is complicated, it’s loud, death arrives silently. – J. Hali Steele (from Twice the Burn)

Friday, July 6, 2018

Rhythm of Love

This is a previously published story I hope to have back up soon.
Video on YouTube: 

Rhythm of Love

Carter Gates, amateur Latin ballroom dancer, is ready to make a move on his sexy new assistant. Problem is Carter owns the company and holds to one principle—hands off staff. His body isn’t listening. Bree’s scent intoxicates him and her lithe body makes it difficult to follow his rule.

Bree’s no better off. She can’t extinguish the fire her new boss ignites whenever he’s near. Hiding the fact she’s friends with his partner, and a dancer herself, she slips into a revealing outfit and his arms for one night of hot, sexy competition performing a highly erotic tango that gives new meaning to going up in flames.

Bree’s friend has other ideas—she wants Carter for herself. However, after spending a passionate evening in Carter’s bed, Bree wants more—and she’s determined to get it.

Carter reached his destination and the rhythmic strumming of the guitar exhilarated him. The melancholy beat caused his heart to race as he entered the club. Carter spoke briefly with a few contestants while glancing around to see if his partner had arrived. Sometimes they met in a quiet corner by the bar to discuss their routine. He shoved through a gyrating sea of people and grabbed the last stool available. He ordered gin, straight up. Not nervous about Cara showing up yet, he looked over the room. It was a good crowd.
A head of wavy hair moving through the throng caught his attention. Familiarity washed over him. Hell, he’d know her anywhere. What was Bree doing here? Caught totally off guard by her appearance, he started to sweat. The thing with the underwear blared in his mind along with the fact his employees weren’t aware he had a penchant for dance. If they found out, the guys would laugh, rib him for the tight outfits and fancy shoes, something he didn’t want to deal with. Christ.
He watched her come closer. A smile curved the corner of her very kissable lips and he remembered how sweet they were. His chest tightened with jealously when he watched a stranger hug her. The man’s hands rested lightly on her hips. How did they know each other? Carter wanted to do exactly what the guy did, take her in his arms, feel her pressed tight to his crotch. Damn if he liked watching someone else do just that. Heat flared in his crotch.
She hadn’t noticed him yet, but she was moving his way. After being stopped twice more, she stood only feet from him talking to a female contestant. Her head turned to where Carter sat as if she knew he would be there. He almost choked on the gin he’d swallowed when their eyes met.
“Carter, it’s good to see you.” Bree’s throaty voice slid down his spine. Relief washed over him that she didn’t seem upset about what happened between them. He had waited for her to come from the bathroom at the office as long as he could before leaving for a late meeting.
He gazed up and down her body, his eyes stopping at the split in the icy blue satin dress that clung to every curve. It ended only inches below her crotch and, thank God, it was situated more toward her thigh. Damn if she didn’t look dressed to dance. The heels made her taller and her body looked even better than he remembered from only hours ago.
When she leaned to speak to someone, a swell of breast peeked at him from the side of the strapless concoction. He saw the thin invisible strap around her bare back. He let his eyes travel to where the pale blue material picked up again right above the crease of her ass. He wanted to put his hand there, feel the heat. Go down further and cup her cheeks. Let his tongue slide through velvety warmth... Jesus!
The scent of musk trailed around his head drawing him in. Christ, this woman had his cock tied in a knot. His slacks grew snug, but the swell would barely be noticeable. He couldn’t perform a single step if he had to right now. Good thing his partner never affected him this way. Bree looked back at him and a smile lifted the corner of her mouth.
“Bree. Didn’t know you hung out here. Can I buy you a drink?” The music roared in his ears. Carter hoped he hadn’t spoken too loudly. His gaze remained glued to her plump lips and he almost missed her answer.
“Gin, straight up,” she said.
He grinned. Lifting his drink, he moved it slowly to her pink lips. She opened and ran her tongue around the glass’s edge. She touched his hand, tilting it enough to take a swallow. He pulled it back, his eyes never leaving hers. “Mmm, that’s good.”
“You dance?” He envisioned dragging her into a dark hallway and taking her while music pulsated against walls. His realization earlier at the office that she reciprocated his feelings opened a new door, one Carter wasn’t sure he wanted to close. Maybe ask her out, be with her away from the office. Shit, he could be on his way to losing the best assistant he ever had.
“As often as I can.” Brown eyes shimmered at him. He wanted to dive in, taste her. All of her. “Latin is my favorite.”
“Hmm. Who’s your partner tonight?” His heart banged along with vibrant drums in the song playing. He didn’t really want to know. Anybody holding her in an embrace so close, so hard, steamed him. Some lucky bastard would be teased by the feel of Bree against him. Teased to the point of pain.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele