Hunter's Woman Special Edition


HUNTER'S WOMAN--Aslyn didn’t remember Earth. She’d been an infant when they’d fled that dying world to settle on a new world—the world her people thought of as New Earth that the natives called Petrac. The irony was that ‘New Earth’ was very like old Earth—as in ancient Earth—much like Earth during what was called the medieval period—except different, of course, because the natives weren’t human.
They looked human, but they weren’t. And that was never more apparent than when the twin moons of Petrac rose together at their fullest.
The natives called the beast people the mogi. Aslyn called them terrifying.
And the most frightening part about the entire business was that she found it impossible to resist the charm of the Huntsman, even when she was certain she was the prey he was hunting.

MISSING--A missing woman--a club that vanishes--missing time and memories. Exclusive, dark, and shrouded in mystery--No Holes Barred is a club like no other in the world. There, only those fortunate enough to gain membership experience sexual encounters the likes of which they have never dreamed possible.

But it’s the mystery not the pleasures of the flesh that draws Candice, and once inside, she goes down hard on Jerico in her determination to probe the perplexing puzzle in her search for satisfaction. Jerico has penetrated her deep cover, however, and is just as determined to delve the depths of her desires.

Published: 04/2015  
Length: Category plus Novella
Word Count: 64,882 
Genre: Futuristic/Urban Fantasy Romance
Rating: Erotic. Contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, profanity, forced seduction, and violence.
Available formats: PDF, RTF, Epub, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc)



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Alternate Worlds:
The Fallen
Kaitlyn O'Connor

© Copyright by Kaitlyn O'Connor, 08/2005
© Cover Art by Jenny Dixon, 02/2015
ISBN 978-1-60394-
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.


I was on the most bizarre mission I had ever undertaken in my life. Adrenaline pumped through my blood as I cruised through the tiny southern town, searching for the sign that would point the way to me.

Part of what was pumping my drug of choice through my rapidly beating heart was fear. There was just no getting around that, because I wasn’t stupid and I knew the risk I was taking. Part of the rush was pure excitement because I was just plain crazy that way and I couldn’t help it, but part of it was also sexual.

I had a plan and if everything worked out just as I wanted it to, I was going to get the ride of my life tonight.

I braked when I at last spotted the sign: Holy Temple of the Warriors of God--15 miles.

My gut tightened. This was the place alright.

Flipping on my blinker, I made the turn and headed out of town, taking care to keep my lead foot from pressing the gas pedal to the floor. A lot of these little towns were notorious speed traps. It wasn’t part of my plan to get caught by Goober and risk a night in jail because I had a serious problem with my mouth and authority.

The only thing that actually worried me about my plan was that I didn’t have a clear mental picture of the layout of the Temple--hadn’t even been able to find a decent exterior view for that matter, although the newspaper clipping had shown a good view of the garish red doors that fronted the ‘Temple’.

It bothered me just a tiny bit that I hadn’t actually used my training in years. I’d served in the military fresh out of high school. Not that I was a zealous patriot, or a glutton for punishment, or out for adventure, or even to escape my fruit cake of a mother. I’d gone in thinking I could earn my college money and party at the same time.

I’d come out four years later with the certainty that I was not cut out for submission. I was a natural dominatrix, but the military hadn’t seemed to care for that particular talent since I was an enlisted stiff and supposed to follow orders, not give them.

Taking my college money, I’d headed off for my serving of education--no particular goal in mind. I just wanted the degree in whatever. It turned out there was a career just for me--management--and I’d enjoyed being the office bitch so well that I was damned near thirty before it finally dawned on me that I’d skipped something I didn’t want to skip.

In all honesty, I didn’t want to miss a damned thing. I knew it was unreasonable. Having your cake and eating it too just wasn’t done, but I suppose I inherited some of my mother’s unreasonableness. I’d decided early on that I was going to experience everything life had to offer, and taking half a slice wasn’t acceptable.

I’d almost missed the kid and family thing--actually, I didn’t particularly care whether I could rope a ring for my finger or not. I did want the kid, though.

Anybody that knew me well would have flatly vetoed the idea of me being a mom, but I figured dads didn’t have to be pansies to be dads. Who was to say I couldn’t be a hard ass and still be a good mom?

The trouble was, God--Fate--or Providence--was against me. I was outraged when I discovered I couldn’t conceive and the worst of it was that the moment I found out I couldn’t, I became obsessed with doing it.

Then I discovered that there were just some mountains that couldn’t be moved and I’d hit one like a bug at ninety miles an hour.

Depression wasn’t something I’d had much familiarity with before. I didn’t deal with it all that well.

It got me to thinking about my mother--the fruit cake. As my uncle was fond of saying, she was a few cards shy of a full deck--a total religious freak. I still couldn’t believe she hadn’t been nominated as a saint after she died. Of course, she hadn’t been Catholic, so I supposed that might have had something to do with it.

One of her weird religious experiences in particular popped into my head one day and since by that time I was really depressed and seriously obsessing over the ‘problem’ I began to wonder if there was anything to it. She’d always claimed she’d been visited by an angel and blessed with a child when she had been told she could never conceive.

Knowing my mother like I did, visited became raped and blessed--well, that was me and even I knew I wasn’t a blessing. I didn’t know who my father was, but I knew he wasn’t any where around. Uncle Bill hadn’t been too helpful. He’d just shrugged and said she’d gone off with some religious cult and came back knocked up.

I took an extended leave--maybe I’ll be back, maybe I won’t--from work. I’d been a workaholic for years and I didn’t have expensive tastes. I figured I had plenty of money stockpiled if I needed it and I could always go back to making other people’s lives miserable by making them work for their money if this didn’t pan out. I’d been tracking ‘sightings’ of angels for months and I was just about ready to give up when I ran across an article about the cult I was even now bearing down on.

The claimed they’d captured a demon from hell and they were going to offer him up to God on the next full moon. They wouldn’t let anyone see the demon--said it would get them and carry them to hell--but they were so excited about it I figured it was worth the drive down to Hicksville to check it out.

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