Billionaire Shifters In Heat: Shifter Romance Collections, #2

By Taylor Lake

A luscious romp extraordinaire, Billionaire Shifters In Heat delivers three sizzling stories about wealthy alpha shifters and the men who want them. Featuring... 

Bedding The Werewolf Alpha Billionaire 

When starry-eyed young professional Leon Sterling attends a fancy charity gala alone, he’s hoping for a magical evening - sure, he might not be the richest guy there, but he’s hoping he’ll meet a stunning man, have an evening of drinks, music and laughter, and have something to brag about when he returns to his workaday apartment in the city. But he couldn’t be prepared for his run-in with a predatory vampire - or for the billionaire wolf shifter, Carter Ledgard, who steps in to save him from being drained dry. 

He soon finds that Carter, one of the richest men in America, with his own private helicopter and a penthouse suite that seems to stretch on for floors, is much more than he seems. A dominant alpha werewolf, Carter takes to Leon’s unpretentious charm with ready appreciation. A romantic, story-sharing walk through the gardens soon transpires into a visit by chopper to Mr. Ledgard’s penthouse - and from there, the pair have an intimate night of passion and pleasure ahead of them. 

A gay supernatural erotic romance story featuring a dominant alpha wolf full of down-home charm, his golden-haired beau, and lavish opulence at every corner, Bedding The Werewolf Alpha Billionaire is a trip through passionate romance to the wild, feral heat that lies at love’s core. 

My Gay Lover Is A Bear Shifter Alpha Billionaire 

After a tumultuous tryst with bear shifter alpha Cole Stevens, pert young photographer Hope Raleigh awakens in the brusque, compelling man’s mountainside chalet. He soon discovers that his one night stand, for whom he’s beginning to develop some serious feelings, is one of the richest men in the state.

Cole is frank and unpretentious, but radiates a wild magnetism that has Hope quivering to his every order and command. Hope finds himself being drawn step by step into an undeniably animal world of power and instinct. 

A gay supernatural erotic romance story featuring a dominant werebear alpha billionaire and his submissive lover, My Gay Lover Is A Bear Shifter Alpha Billionaire tells the story of a budding romance paired with the awakening of a new-minted omega’s savage, passionate desire for his alpha. 

My Gay Lovers Are Teen Wolf Shifters 

Eighteen year old Piper is a wolf shifter, alpha of his pack of two, a lithe brown wolf aligned with the swelling of the gibbous moon. But when he scents a huge black wolf, stranger in his territory, his instincts flare with rivalry - and soon a scuffle is impending between Piper and the new alpha, a rich young man, heir to an entrepreneurial fortune, named Charles Kettermann. 

Charles infuriates Piper, but his handsome manner and casual dominance incite something in him that’s just as much flavoured with lust. When he offers to repay the intrusion by inviting Piper and his beta packmate, Mateo, to his family mansion for a lavish dinner, Piper doesn’t plan on enjoying it - but he soon finds himself falling into Charles’ capable arms, with Mateo along for the ride. Can the two alphas find a middle ground? Or will one of them dominate the other? And just how compatible can a menage of three shifters be? 

A gay supernatural teen erotic romance story featuring a dominant alpha wolf billionaire, an alpha protagonist caught between firm dominance and urgent submission, and a submissive beta hungry to please both parties, My Gay Lovers Are Teen Wolf Shifters tests the upper limits of heat with a story that’s both thrilling and riven with urgent, sultry desire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Taylor Lake
• Release date: Oct 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519937469

Taylor Lake

Taylor Lake is a dreamy young woman who pens, from her home in Scotland, a bevy of adult fantasies sure to surprise and delight. Her speciality is the short story: steamy, layered with passion, but not lacking for interesting characters and a tart plot. If you'd like to ask about the process, the author, or any element of her stories, you can check out her writing blog, taylorlake-erotica.tumblr.com, contact her on Twitter @LakeErotica, or send her an email at [e-mail]. She's very receptive and loves discussing the work. She might even write something for you! For more steamy fantasies by Taylor Lake, you can watch her blog at taylorlake-erotica.tumblr.com, or follow @LakeErotica on Twitter. Happy reading! 

Book preview

Bedding The Werewolf Alpha Billionaire

I glanced ahead of me through the crowd, one hand running self-consciously to the side of my face. I checked the impulse, and, angling through the neat press of tail-suited gentlemen and sequin-bedazzled ladies, moved till I found one of the mirrored pillars that quadranted the ballroom.

It was gauche to look into them too openly, of course, and so I took myself in sidelong, a three-quarters profile of a blonde-haired young man, as I pretended to consider canapes from afar. My cheeks were soft and full and somewhat rich with colour - my friend Dolores joked that it was as if I rouged in the evenings. She also envied my long, spun-gold eyelashes, and had on one occasion gone into a desirious groan as she rhapsodied on the possibilities of one day being as pretty as I was.

I minded that kind of teasing, just a little. It was flattery, sure, but it reminded me a little uncomfortably of my softness, my sweet looks, the blue eyes that sometimes made women giggle. The thing was it was men I liked: and the kind of men I liked didn’t always go for soft, chubby-cheeked partners who could have passed for the babyfaced one in a boy band. Brusque, powerful men were often turned off by how...obviously gay, I thought reluctantly, I was. It wasn’t always that they were closeted, I thought, scouting around the ballroom in genuine search of the drinks tray now. I was still not quite tipsy enough for this fundraiser. Sometimes men just preferred a manly type. I wasn’t that, and combined with my shyness it had netted me a slow record in romance at the age of twenty-one.

My suit was trim and tight around my shoulders, at least. I steadied them, admiring the cut. My family wasn’t rich by most standards, but we were well-off enough that I could splash a little on getting fitted for an occasion that was, in my life, infrequently formal: Dolores had had an in with her employer’s daughter, and had snapped up tickets to one of the most prestigious charity galas in Boston at a slice of the price. I’d been looking forward to the occasion - we both had, planning meticulously how we would enjoy every second of seeing how the other half lived - but at the last moment, she’d had to go home to visit her mother.

So here I was, all alone, in what had been meant to be the ballroom of my dreams and now wondering moodily how long it would take me before I gave up on the daunting prospect of working up courage to ask a man to dance, without fortification or backup, in the middle of a crowd of star-spangled debutantes and millionaires. My suit, a fetching navy, looked elegant and trim, but it wasn’t as handsome as the originals by Armani and Hugo Boss I could see double-buttressing the broad bodies of men who’d made their fortunes on Wall Street or in politics. I didn’t feel like I belonged here. I’d thought it would be fun, and if Dolores had been with me it would have been, but lost in the crowd, for a second, trying to resolve myself to stay, I just felt tearfully alone.

I slipped my fingers around the stem of a champagne glass as a waiter passed - pausing only a second for me - with a tray, and took a breath, steadying myself. I forced a smile onto my lips and a hint of colour into my cheeks: I swirled the champagne, and took a sip. It was rich and velvety, and went to my head in an instant.

You’re enjoying the vintage? said a man with clean-cut black hair, his chin broad and his dark eyes catching me in a moment of vulnerability. He inspected me up and down. I believe we hired a sommelier, just for the evening. A glass of champagne was in his own hand, fingers around the cupola. It’s a myth about having to hold it by the stem, you know. The amount of heat transferred through the palm to the liquid inside is negligible.

O-oh, I said, flashing a smile at him. I felt more fortified already: something was happening to me! I did not know that. My second time with champagne. I’m more of a wine man, at home. I was more of an Appletini man, at T.G.I. Friday’s. But he didn’t need to know that.

Unbelievably, the same principle applies to wine, said the black-haired man with a laugh, and caught my hand in a shake. Maxwell Thompson. Secretary to the District Attorney.

I don’t see the point in it, myself, said a second voice, this one bracing and thick-throated: I started as its owner, who was behind me though I hadn’t heard his footsteps, entered the conversation with a casual method of barging in he seemed utterly acquainted with. I mean: hiring a man to tell you how wine tastes. Surely the tongue already knows.

Champagne, corrected Thompson, his eyes glittering with interest. "And how good of you to join us,