A Private Hunger
Sean Michael
Genre: Gay paranormal romance
Publisher: All Romance eBooks
Date of Publication: 9/1/2016
ISBN: 978-1-945193-37-8
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill
What happens when you find out the man you’re in love with is actually a dragon?
Matthew is taking a break before going to university, working at a cafe in Seattle. He expects to spend a few months meeting people, having fun and generally living it up before hitting the books. Then he meets Drakon, a passionate, masculine man with an animal magnetism that draws Matthew in.
As Matthew moves in with Drakon on his country estate and slowly finds himself cut off from the world around him, he begins to wonder if that animal magnetism is more literal than figurative and if Drakon would be more aptly named Dragon.
Will Matthew stay with the man he’s growing to love once he discovers Drakon’s long-lived, carefully guarded secret?
He grabbed the coffee cups off the table, whistling low and easy.
His hips were still sore from last night’s dancing, but it felt good,
fine, a sweet burn.
Jennie popped his ass as she walked by. “You’re too cheerful for
words, Matt-baby.
You get laid last night?”
Matt shook his head, red curls falling into his eyes. “Just dancing,
Miss Thing. Just boogying.”
She laughed and headed on, coffee pot held tight in her hand.
Two men came in together, one older, distinguished looking.
Like a British butler, really. The other was tall, striking, with hair
like a mane, dark gold surrounding a golden face and falling
down the man’s back.
They sat at one of his tables. Fucking hot.
He headed over, two menus in hand, telling his jumpy prick
to behave. “Afternoon, guys. I’m Matt. Can I get you some coffee? Tea?”
“What about you?” asked the hot one.
Matt blinked, blushed dark, and then recovered with a grin.
Flirting. He could do flirting.
“I’m working and not on the menu, sadly enough.”
“I guess I shall have to settle for tea, then. I don’t suppose you
have something wild and strong?”
“We’ve got a nice blackberry and black tea.” He craned his neck,
looking at the specials board. “And another from South America that
people seem to like.”
The man growled, actually growled, looking discontentedly at
his companion.
“I would be happy to drive you home and serve you what you want,
Drakon.”
The growling stopped, the hot guy’s mouth twitching into a half smile.
“I am most certain that you would not, Wetthers, though you are right,
we have better teas at home.”
“Master Drakon” turned back to him, and Matt realized that one of the
man’s eyes was brown, the other blue. “How much are they
paying you to serve here?”
“Excuse me?” He blinked again. What an odd man.
The man’s eyes narrowed and he asked the question again,
enunciating each word very carefully.
Matt noticed he had an accent, just barely there.
“I asked you how much are they paying you to work here.”
“I heard you, sir. I was just making sure I heard you right.”
Rude asshole. “I make minimum wage plus tips, same as every
waiter in this town. Are you always this ill-mannered or am
I just really lucky?”
To his surprise, the man laughed, the sound low and rich.
“Oh, you are a feisty one. Go tell them you have been employed
elsewhere and we will leave for my estate immediately. I shall
double your salary and of course room and board shall be
included. Wetthers will settle all the pesky details with you and the IRS as
necessary.”
Matt looked over at the old guy. “Is he for real? I mean,
dude, you need a waiter at home?”
The old man seemed quite unperturbed by the goings on.
“Master Drakon has made you an offer, young man. If you wish
to accept it, I can assure you that it is ‘for real.’”
“Look, I’m not an idiot or a whore. You come in and tell me to
quit my job and come with you without so much as sharing names,
or you knowing more than I can walk and read a chalkboard.”
He shook his head, fingers moving to his side, his skin burning.
“I’m flattered, but no, thank you.”
The hot one—Drakon—growled again and stood. “Well, if you
change your mind and decide you want to know about the
handprint on your ass, maybe I’ll be willing to see you.”
Drakon patted his ass, but not right on, more to the side where his
birthmark was. With that, the man walked out.
The man named Wetthers handed Matt a card with a stylized dragon
on it and the words Drakon Estates. There was a number beneath it.
“If you change your mind. Be very sure before you call.”
“Right. Thanks.”
He watched the guy leave and shook his head. “Fucking weird.
You see that, Jennie? That dude just propositioned me!”
“Weird.” Jennie shook her head. “Glad he left before your shift
was up. I hate waiting on assholes.”
“Yeah.” He nodded and pushed the card into his pocket. Real weird.
Guess he’d have to go dancing tonight to work off the memory.
Whistling, he went back to doing his side work, mind filled with music.
Royal Line
Sean Michael
Genre: Gay shifter romance
Publisher: All Romance eBooks
Date of Publication: 9/1/2016
ISBN: 978-1-945193-29-3
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill
Where’s the common ground between a tiger shifter foot soldier and his prince?
Grio has one job—find dormant tiger shifters and introduce them to the world of Saffron Tigers. When he finds Professor Phoenix Lamoure, he discovers that Headquarters got a couple of key points wrong. Phoenix isn’t actually a professor but Saffron Tiger royalty…a member of the lost royal line.
Phoenix didn’t have things easy growing up. His mother spent most of her life in a mental institution, and he spent his formative years in foster care. When a stranger approaches to learn about his family history, he’s wary. When said stranger actually kidnaps him, all bets are off!
Can he ever believe what Grio says? Or will he be forever convinced that he’s as crazy as his mother was?
Grio sat in his SUV, splitting his attention between the students
walking across the quad and the file in his hand.
Professor Phoenix Lamoure. Actually, the guy was a TA,
not a professor. He was going to have to ride Danny next time
he spoke to the man. It wasn’t often that the office sent
out incorrect information, and he made the most of it when they
did. Of course he’d rib Danny privately. No need to get him in
trouble with the boss. Nigel didn’t have much of a sense of humor.
Phoenix Lamoure was a tiger shifter like himself, even if the man
didn’t know it yet. A lot of shifters remained dormant and died
never knowing what they really were.
The Saffron Tigers, though, they were nearly extinct, so they didn’t
have the luxury of letting their kind discover themselves, or not.
Headquarters searched out potential weres and Grio—or
Janey or Tuplo—were sent to flush them out.
Grio looked at the file again, examining the black-and-white
image closely to make sure he’d recognize Phoenix when he saw the man.
There were only one hundred and nineteen Saffron Tigers left and
they needed numbers, needed safety. Needed each other.
Phoenix wasn’t your typical Saffron Tiger. Instead of bulk and
broadness, he was slender, the little wire-rimmed glasses perched
on the end of his nose adding an air of fragility or delicateness that
Grio imagined was quite false. Knowing it or not, if Phoenix had tiger
blood in him, he would be fierce when he had to be.
A small group of students walked by, a shock of unmistakable
bright red hair hitting his eyes. Jesus. This one wasn’t just a Saffron.
He was descended from the royal line. How had he missed that?
He checked the file again. Grainy black-and-white photo from
some old high school yearbook. No wonder. Not only that, the
file made no mention that this one was a royal.
Slipping out of the SUV, Grio closed the door silently, then quietly
stalked his prey. The two girls in the group of six headed off
toward the parking lot, and he heard, “Nixie? You want to grab a
pizza and a beer?”
“I don’t know. I have papers to grade…”
Grio considered his options. He could follow Phoenix to somewhere
quiet, or he could “bump into” the man now.
“Come on, man. All you do is work,” wheedled the young man.
Phoenix gave a snort. “If you were Dr. Lee’s TA, you’d work, too.”
Dr. Lee. That was more information than Grio’d had a moment ago.
He decided to wing it.
“Excuse me, did you say you were Dr. Lee’s TA?”
“I did, yeah.”
Eyes that were pure gold met his, warm behind the wire-rimmed
glasses. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I had a few questions for you. Is there somewhere we
could go and talk?” Grio gave Phoenix his best and most earnest smile.
The Moon
Sean Michael
Genre: Gay shifter romance
Publisher: All Romance eBooks
Date of Publication: 9/1/2016
ISBN: 978-1-945193-30-9
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill
The first full moon is always the hardest.
Danny McMann has been busy on pack business for weeks and just wants to spend the upcoming full moon deep in the woods with his pack—running, hunting, napping and generally goofing off. The last thing he wants to hear is that they’ve got another man on their hands who’s been bitten and about to turn with the arrival of the full moon.
Hammond Argyle was bitten by his assailant in a bar fight a few weeks ago. He’s been in a foul mood ever since and it’s only getting worse. As is the way his skin itches and feels like it doesn’t fit him anymore. When someone starts lurking round, following him, it’s about all he can take.
Will Danny be able to help Hammond through his first change and beyond?
Hamm was going out of his fucking mind. He was itchy,
like all over, scratch his skin right off to make it better itchy.
Speaking of skin, his didn’t fit right, either. And it was getting worse.
It was getting so he was going to take someone’s head off soon,
just for talking to him. Not only that, now some asshole was
following him.
Growling—literally fucking growling—he cut through the park.
The form that had been following him for hours, staying far
enough back that Hamm couldn’t focus on him, moved with
him. And when he stopped it disappeared entirely, so he couldn’t even go
confront the guy.
Between that and the not feeling right in his skin, he was on the
very edge of doing something desperate. He wasn’t sure exactly
what, but it was going to happen soon. He scratched his
shoulder. He’d been bitten—fucking bitten!—during a fight.
This dude had attacked him and he held his own, even though the guy was viciously strong. He hadn’t even done anything to provoke the attack,
goddamn it. It was weeks ago, but he’d been on edge since then.
And the goddamn bite was still aching like it was festering,
even though it looked well enough healed when he checked it in
the mirror.
If Hamm went by how his luck had been going lately, the guy
following him was the same guy who’d bitten him, coming back
for more. Just what he fucking needed. Goddamn.
He was almost through the park when he stopped and turned
abruptly, ready to run and confront his stalker, hoping the
element of surprise would keep the guy from disappearing into
the shadows this time. And he’d be goddamned if it didn’t work.
The guy—because it was a lean guy with a shock of dark auburn hair
—was right there, bright gold eyes shining at him.
“You better have a fucking good reason for being on my ass.”
He snarled out the words, not willing to take any guff, even though
the guy was hot. And where had that thought come from? He was itchy
and out of sorts, goddamn it, not looking to flirt, or even admire silently.
“I came to help.” The words were low, oddly calming.
“What?” He took a step back, startled by the answer and by the way it
the man’s voice seemed to diffuse some of his anger.
“I came to help. You’re itching. I can help.”
Who was this impertinent kid?
“How do you know that?” he demanded. He hadn’t told a soul what
had happened or how he was feeling.
“I can smell it on you.” How did this lean little thing not seem
scared of him at all? “Are you saying I smell?” He wasn’t sure if
that made him more annoyed or not.
“Everyone smells.”
“Then why the fuck would you— You know what? Forget it. Just stop,
okay?” He didn’t need this. “I don’t fucking know you from Adam,
so get off my ass.”
“I’m Daniel. Daniel McMann.” One hand was held out, the confidence
pouring off the man.
He answered automatically, even though he’d had no intention at all
of giving this Daniel who’d been following him all day long his name.
“Hammond Argyle.” And since when did he lose control of situations?
Ever since he’d been fucking bitten, that’s when.
Daniel smiled at him. “That is a fabulous name, my fellow Scot.”
Hamm actually chuckled. That was not the reaction he usually got.
“Thanks.”
He finally, begrudgingly, took Daniel’s hand, electricity slamming
through him at the contact. He yanked his hand back, starring.
“What the fuck? Did you feel that?”
Daniel nodded, blinked as if dazed, as if this had finally fazed
the little fucker. “That’s never happened before.”
Surprisingly, that actually made Hamm feel better.
“Shake a lot of strangers’ hands, do you?”
“Well, sure. But you’re not a stranger. You’re just a mate I
haven’t met yet.”
Okay, so this guy was a little out there. His best course of action
was probably to extricate himself from Daniel’s company as
painlessly as possible. Instead, Hamm found himself saying,
“Sure. Sure. So why were you following me?”
“I told you. I came to help. You were bitten. It’s my job to help
with it.” Daniel said it as if that explained everything.
“Are you a cop? Do you guys have a…a lead?” Could the cops
be looking into something he hadn’t actually reported? Maybe someone
at the bar had phoned in an anonymous tip or something.
“I’m a… Well, I’m like a guidance counselor in the loosest sense
of the word.”
Hamm stared at the guy. “I don’t know what the hell you’re
talking about.” There were words and they seemed to be forming
sentences, but Hamm couldn’t figure out what Daniel was
trying to tell him.
“I know. Come have a drink with me?”
“I…” Hamm hesitated, still not convinced this guy wasn’t a
nutjob. On the other hand, he felt better than he had in days, and that
had started when he’d confronted Daniel. Coincidence, right?
Still… “Okay.”
“Cool. Where’s good? I could use a snack, too.” This dude was
bouncy as hell.
“There’s a pub on the corner of the park.” Close enough to home,
too, but Danny-boy didn’t need to know that.
“Sounds perfect. I’m ravenous. Nice park.”
“It’s…a park.” Hamm started toward the Flying Pig.
“Nice mowed grass. I live in the woods.”
Hamm looked around. There was indeed lots of mowed grass,
but also some trees that a couple of paths meandered through.
He shrugged again and grinned. “It’s a park.”
“Yep.” There was a knowing, weirdly odd grin on the kid’s face.
This guy was going to drive him crazy. Hamm could tell.
He growled deep in his chest, like a warning or something,
but the kid just bounced along.
Hamm shook his head. When he was feeling better, he’d show
Danny who was boss. Whoa. When he was feeling better, Danny was
going to be in his rear view mirror, right? Right. Hamm was not into
long-haired twinks. Feeling more
himself than he’d felt in long time, he held the door to the
Pig open for Danny.
Danny shot him a smile. “Thank you.”
He swore, and for a second he thought he saw a tail wagging on the
end of Danny’s ass.
Shaking his head to clear it, Hamm nodded to Wilson behind the bar and
pointed out a booth at the back of the place to Danny.
“Perfect!” God, this guy really was a nut.
About the Author:
Best-selling author Sean Michael is a maple leaf–loving Canadian who spends hours hiding out in used bookstores. With far more ideas than time, Sean keeps several documents open at all times. From romance to fantasy, paranormal and sci-fi, Sean is limited only by the need for sleep—and the periodic Beaver Tail.
Sean fantasizes about one day retiring on a secluded island populated entirely by horseshoe crabs after inventing a brain-to-computer dictation system. Until then, Sean will continue to write the old-fashioned way.
