New at Changeling Press: Bite Me for Christmas by Megan Slayer #holidayromance #vampires #urbanfantasy @meganslayer

Rachael isn’t good at magic, and she’s not versed in life, but this witch wants to lay her hands on the sexy vampire who’s come to her in her dreams. She wants just one thing for Christmas wish — her vampire.

Gavin wants the witch in his dreams, but he doesn’t believe he’s worthy of her. Part of him wants to devour her magic and save himself, but what if being saved doesn’t involve dying?

Anything is possible with a little Christmas magic.

Save 15% at Changeling Press

Get it from your favorite bookseller!

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Megan Slayer

How had she managed to summon a vampire?

Christmas lights bathed the room in a rainbow of color. Tinsel glittered around her window, and the tiny Christmas tree turned in small revolutions on her dresser. She was in her room and safe.

She was also a witch who not only believed in the creatures of the night, but also in Christmas. Krampus could haunt her, too. She was a conundrum mixed with confusion.

She sighed. If she wanted the vampire to come to her in person, she’d have to appeal to a higher power. Her sisters wouldn’t help and would probably try to steal him away, if they didn’t kill him first. Krampus hated her because she wasn’t bad enough. Clumsy, yes. Prone to mistakes? Sure. But bad? No. The only shot she had was Santa.

Damn.

Santa didn’t pay the coven much mind. It didn’t matter if she put out milk and cookies for him or that she believed he existed. If she existed and so did Krampus, why couldn’t Santa? Belief wasn’t enough. Santa wasn’t coming down her chimney.

Still, she could ask and believe.

She left her bed and ventured over to the window. Santa might not listen, but she had to try. Christmas was in two days, and she had a Christmas wish. If anyone could come through for her, it was Santa.

She held onto the windowsill. She hated being interrupted before she reached orgasm, but she needed her vampire to be there so she could. He mattered. Him being real mattered.

“Dear Santa, I should write a letter, but this seems faster. I could conjure you, but if I did, I’d probably give you four heads or turn you into a dragon by accident. Anyway, I’m tired of getting three-fourths of the way to climax and not being able to finish. Why? I know this seems like a strange thing to mention, but I’m trying to have sex in my dreams — which isn’t as good as the real thing — and it’s with a vampire. He could kill me, but I’m drawn to him. I don’t know who he is, Santa, but I want him. My Christmas wish is for the vampire in my dreams to come to me in real life. He might destroy me, but he might be what I need, and I want to find out. I accept the risk. Please, fulfill my Christmas wish and put a vampire under my tree.”

She swore she heard other voices and paused. Damn it. Her sisters must still be awake downstairs and heard her moving. If they did, they’d want her to get to work on whatever chore they’d found. They treated her like a fucking servant.

“Are you awake?” Serena, her oldest sister, called. “Rachael? If you’re awake, then there’s a sink full of dishes that need done.”

“It’s too early for her to be up,” Millie, her other sister, said. “She’s not awake. You’re imagining things.”

How could she sleep with the noise from her sisters downstairs? They treated her like a child and servant. The only way she’d have a chance at a life of her own would be to find the vampire and run the hell away.

“Please, Santa,” Rachael said. “I want my vampire for Christmas.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

BOOK REVIEW: El Diablo by Marteeka Karland #mcromance #agegap #suspense @marteekakarland

Jezebel – Life in a gilded cage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be – especially if the whole purpose of the cage is to keep me a virgin till I’m ready to be sacrificed to the man of my father’s choosing. I want out, and don’t think I haven’t tried. It’s not that easy with Daddy’s Brotherhood guards all over the place. But that doesn’t mean I want to trade one cage for another. And, let’s face it, I have no idea how to live on my own. I’ve never had the chance. Now I’m not sure I want to learn, because my new jailer – err, rescuer — is the sexiest man I’ve ever known. El Diablo’s not the monster everyone’s made him out to be. But can I tame the beast of a man without losing my heart? All I want for Christmas is a chance to find out…

El Diablo — I went hunting for a victim. Instead, I found a Christmas Angel. She’s the daughter of my enemy, used as a pawn in a deadly game of chess. All I really wanted was the Brotherhood out of Palm Beach. Instead I found an innocent who brings out a side of me I’d thought long buried and gone. But Jezebel’s younger than my own daughter, and just as much trouble. And I’m El Diablo — a title I earned heart and soul. I’m so not what she needs. And now she’s under my protection in the Black Reign compound. She should be completely off-limits. I won’t let the Brotherhood take her back and force her to give up her dreams. But who’s going to protect her from me?

WARNING: Contains explicit violence and scenes of dubious consent. As always, there is a HEA and no cliffhangers.

Get it at Changeling Press and save 15%

Get it from your favorite bookseller

MY REVIEW – 5 stars

El Diablo might be book 5 in the Black Reign MC, but it’s written in such a way you won’t be overly confused if you haven’t read the previous four books. That being said, you’ll probably enjoy it more when you know the backstory of El Diablo and some of the other characters.

El Diablo – aka Liam – has never wanted to claim a woman. Until he meets the perfect one. She’s innocent, yet daring. Everything about her intrigues him, and makes him to want to hold onto her. Talk about an over the top alpha male! El Diablo brings that and more to the table. If you like sexy older heroes, then his story is a must read!

Jezebel’s father is a monster and she’s remained somewhat sheltered most of her life. Doesn’t make her any less wild. She’s bold and ready to experience all life has to offer. I loved the way she just made herself at home when El Diablo took her back to the Black Reign compound. Seeing her interactions with the old ladies and the kids made me smile.

While there’s some holiday cheer in this story, and quite a bit of hilarity, it’s not lacking the suspense and heat you expect when you pick up a Marteeka Karland book. It’s perfect for unwinding at the end of a long day! This one is full of steam, heart-melting scenes, and those bad boy alpha men we’ve all come to love.

WHAT ARE REVIEWERS SAYING?

“OMG! He was totally worth the wait!!!! I love El Diablo & Jezebel she is the perfect match for the leader of Black Reign!” – Melissa, Goodreads

“OH MY GOSH!!!!! El Diablo is EVERYTHING you could hope he’d be. He’s HOT, HOT, HOT, FLAMING HOT!!!!!!!!” – G, Goodreads

“Wow, just wow! El Diablo is so much more than I expected. I lost myself in these characters and pages.” – Andrea, Goodreads

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland

El Diablo

Sitting off in the distance next to a densely wooded area, the house looked like something out of a horror movie. Sure, the grounds were immaculate and the structure itself a beautiful, Gothic architecture, but with the trees bare of leaves and the full moon hovering above it with a halo of fog around it, not to mention the tall, imposing fencing with razor wire surrounding it… Yeah. The place could have been an asylum in a slasher film.

From what I’d found out from Drago and Pretty Boy, the girl I had been searching for was being held in this house. Had been in this house her entire life. Not just living there. By all accounts, she’d never once left it.

“No change, Liam,” El Segador — the Reaper — said to me on our personal line. He was one of a very few people who knew my real name. Mainly because we’d grown up together, and he’d willingly followed me for close to thirty years. “She’s still on the upper floor. West wing. Giovanni swears he got it right, and that there’s a tracker on her person.”

“Very well. Is there any way to get in and contain her before we breach the house from below?”

“Negative. Security equipment’s too sensitive. You can go up the side of the house and breach from the roof, but Giovanni says the only viable entrance opens up two rooms away from her. You’ll still have to navigate the hallway, which is probably full of Malcolm’s men.”

“That’s my entry. You come up from below and eliminate as many as you can… quietly. If I need a distraction, you call in the boys, and you’re it.”

“Copy that.”

I switched to the team channel. “It’s a go. El Segador and I will enter first. Other than that, follow the plan.”

“Not comfortable with that, boss,” Archangel keyed in. “Everyone agreed I should take point. Besides, Samson will kill my ass if you come back with so much as a scratch. I know, ‘cause he told me so.”

“I’ll endeavor to appease Samson’s delicate sensibilities,” I replied dryly. While I trusted my club with my life, I wasn’t willing to take the chance the girl was out and about in the house. Or that she could sneak out of her room. Drago had spoken highly of her intelligence and skill. While he’d been able to speak, that is. The fewer of us in the house until she was in my custody, the less likely it was there would be accidents.

“Going on the record I’m objecting strenuously to this. Something happens and El Diablo gets hurt, you motherfuckers better back me up,” Archangel replied crossly.

On any other occasion I’d have taken pity on him and let him lead the mission. Or El Segador. But this was too important. I let my club do many things in the guise of safeguarding me. Only because it pleased them, and I was willing to give a little and look weak if it made them happy. Every single one of them was more than capable, so, as long as the risk was acceptable, I indulged them. They always did what I asked of them to the best of their abilities. It was the least I could do when none of them asked for anything. Typically, I had to force on them their heart’s desires. This, however, was different. Malcolm was a fierce opponent, one I knew almost as well as I knew El Segador. I didn’t want to risk my brothers on someone so unpredictable without knowing exactly where the bastard was and how much he was expecting from me.

“I got your six,” Hardcase spoke up. I could detect the faintest amount of humor in his voice. “For all the good it will do you.” There were chuckles over the radio as throat mics were activated with the sound.

“If you are all finished, El Segador and I would appreciate it if you kept an eye out. Let us know if any surprises are coming our way. Particularly if it’s in the form of a small woman. Aye?”

“Eyes open, mouths closed,” Archangel said. Immediately the chatter stopped and the operation began.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.

Now in Paperback: Grizzly/Wolf by Harley Wylde #mcromance #romanticsuspense @HarleyW_Writer

Grizzly — The Beginning (Devil’s Fury MC 8)

May — Everyone else sees a rough biker from the wrong side of town, but there’s no one I’d rather be with. When I’m attacked by the town’s golden boy, I see the Grizzly his club has named him for. I don’t care that people whisper when we walk past. I love him, and I know I’ll keep loving him until the day I die.

Grizzly — May deserves the best life can offer — and a respectable guy. There’s blood on my hands. I keep her at arm’s length, but there’s only one thing I want more than my club, more than my next breath — and that’s May.

Wolf (Devil’s Fury MC 9)

Glory -– When I heard Devil’s Fury was running an underground clinic for women like me I knew I had to be a part of it. What I didn’t count on was falling for an alpha biker with a heart of gold, or turning to mush every time he holds my daughter. I won’t let a killer stand in the way of my happily-ever-after.

Wolf — When my ex left I should have been broken-hearted, but one look at the angel who walks into Church and I know Glory’s meant to be mine, and so is her adorable little girl. I know Glory can do better. I came back from the war broken. But I always get what I want, and I want Glory. I know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if it means letting Glory see the darkness inside me.

WARNING: Grizzly and Wolf’s stories are both part of the Devil’s Fury MC series and contains some violence, bad language, sensitive issues, and adult situations. Guaranteed happily-ever-after, a baby who will steal your heart, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

Get the paperback at Amazon

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Harley Wylde

Grizzly — Summer, 1982

I ran my hand over my cut, proud as hell that I’d earned my patch. As the newest member of the Devil’s Fury MC, I should have been at the clubhouse enjoying the party. Instead, I found myself hiding in the shadows by the pond on the outskirts of town. If anyone owned the property, they were long gone. The land had grown wild with weeds. The tall grass around the pond blocked it from view of anyone driving past.

I heard May giggle and a splash. Jealousy ate at me. I had no right to feel any sort of emotion about her at all. She wasn’t mine. Never would be. May was a good girl. Sweet. Angelic. Not at all for the likes of me. I’d noticed her in school, even though I’d kept my distance. Until I’d discovered she liked to come swim here. The first time I saw her in her two-piece swimsuit, I’d had to pick my tongue up off the ground. Who’d have thought little May had curves like that? She’d only been fifteen at the time, and I’d had no business looking.

“Stop it, Mike.” I heard another splash. “I said no!”

My heartrate kicked up and I crept closer, quietly shifting the tall weeds aside for a better look. The dumbass jock she’d come with seemed to be copping a feel. The way May squirmed and shoved at him, I knew she wasn’t just playing around. When she’d told him to stop, she’d meant it. Dickweed didn’t seem to understand.

When he tried to work his hand down into her swimsuit bottoms, I knew I had to do something. I wasn’t about to let him molest her while I stood idly by. Even if I did belong to a club that didn’t exactly walk on the right side of the law, there were lines I’d never cross. Hurting a woman was one of those.

I stepped out of my hiding spot. The moment May saw me, hope sparked in her eyes. Yeah, I wasn’t walking away. Not without making sure she was safe.

“I think she said no.”

He turned to look at me, a sneer on his lips as he eyed my cut. I knew all about Mike Malone. Star forward for the basketball team. Just the sort of guy May should be with, if he weren’t such a douche.

“Let her go, Malone.”

“Or what?” he asked.

“Or I’ll make you, and then you’ll have to run crying home to your mommy. She said she wasn’t interested, but you must have too much wax in your ears.” I folded my arms. “Or maybe you got hit in the head with one too many basketballs. You should catch those passes with your hands and not your face.”

I honestly had no idea how well he played, or what the fuck his position on the team even did. I’d never been into basketball, and I sure as hell hadn’t been to any of the games at school.

He backed away from May and made his way toward me. He slogged through the water and onto the shore, slicking his hair back from his face. We were nearly the same height, but I had a bit of muscle on him. And I knew how to fight. Prissy boy here didn’t stand a chance.

“You lay one finger on me and my parents will sue your ass.”

“And what exactly do you think they’ll get? I don’t have a house. My bike is a piece of shit. Even I can admit that, but one day it won’t be. I don’t have a damn thing you’d want, Malone.” I held my hand out to May. “Come on, angel. I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

May hurried out of the pond and grabbed her towel, wrapping it around her. She came straight for me, giving the jock a wide berth. Couldn’t blame her. He didn’t seem like the type to lose gracefully. Now that he’d decided May should give him what he wanted, he wouldn’t back down. Not until he was forced to.

If he kept bothering her, I’d have to pay him a special visit. Make sure he got the message loud and clear. May wasn’t for him to play with. Or anyone else for that matter.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.

When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve. 

The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.

You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!

New at Changeling Press: Alpha Vol. 1 by Reva Harte #shifters #paranormalromance @HarteTreva

Four blazing hot stories of werewolf packs in the wilds of West Texas

Walk Away: When Dek left her, Leila vowed never to fall for an animal like him again. But now he’s back, and resistance seems futile. Dek needs her, and he’s not about to take no for an answer.

Stay: Lowell doesn’t think any woman can accept the kind of guy he’s turned out to be, but Lin knows she’s more than ready to be his mate.

Home: Rome no longer fits with pack politics. Just his luck both Grey and Mia are determined to bring him back.

Hunted Down: Dunne wants his Alpha as much as Hunt wants him, but he can’t live with Hunt’s latest fetish… at least not until Hunt convinces him otherwise.

Get the paperback at Amazon

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2021 Treva Harte
Excerpt from Walk Away

Dek wasn’t normal. Wasn’t safe.

The first time she’d met him, she’d known. Of course, he had made it pretty obvious when he tried to kill her stepfather…

* * *

“I tell you, I saw the little b — booger turn. I’m bleeding from where he attacked me. Damn it, he’s dangerous.” Rod’s red face turned even redder in the silence that met his words. He swung toward her. “You were there! Tell the cop! Go on, girl.”

She swallowed. She hated his sweaty face. Hated the piggish eyes that glared at her right now. They might be under the same roof, but that didn’t mean she had to like pretending he was kin. She didn’t have to enjoy living with him, listening to him… obeying him.

“Damn you, girl, if you don’t talk up, I swear –”

She took a half-step back. The policeman put his hand on her shoulder, and she tried not to flinch. The eyes under the police cap were all right. They were searching her up and down, but they were human eyes. They might even be kind. She took a deep breath.

“Tell me what you saw… Leila, is it? Don’t be afraid.”

“Yes, sir. That’s me. I-I didn’t see anything. I mean, I came in and I saw Rod — I mean, my stepdad — screaming and swearing and bleeding. I didn’t really look at anything else.”

“How the hell did you miss what was going on, you stupid sl — child?” Fascinated, Leila watched his red face slowly turn purple. She waited for her stepfather’s head to blow off. Instead he whirled and pointed at the one person left in the room who hadn’t said anything. “I tell you, he went for my throat. You think something human went for me like this?”

Leila stared at the bleeding wounds.

“He tried to jump me.” Dek’s voice was whisper-soft. “Rape me. I fought back. What else could I do?”

“You see any of that, Leila?” The policeman sounded safe. But he wasn’t. No one was safe. Leila knew that.

What should she do?

“I… No, sir.” Her voice firmed. “Nothing.”

“Your stepdad ever try to hurt you the way the boy here said?” The cop’s voice hardened.

Jesus. He was smarter than she’d expected. Or else Rod had what he was like written all over him. Written so clear that anyone could see. Except Mom. Mom always believed Rod.

Leila gazed down.

“No, sir.” But she let her voice get more Southern and liquid. Let her lips tremble as she said that final word. She knew what it sounded like with that little catch over the syllable.

The cop’s breath audibly hissed.

“I’m the one who is bleeding here!” Rod’s voice rose. “Arrest that mongrel bastard.”

“I’ll have the authorities take him back to the County. I’m taking you in for questioning.” The policeman didn’t take his eyes off Rod. “Step outside for a minute with me, Mr. Voss.”

“What the f — hell!”

His voice faded a little as he got outside. Leila shut her eyes, tried to pretend she was alone and everything was all right. She’d made a decision, and now she’d have to live with whatever happened next.

“I owe you.” Dek’s whispery voice cut through her self-protective shell, and she opened her eyes.

She stared at the slight teenager who was maybe a year or two older than her. Her stepdad had brought home a stray kid to abuse and bully, like he did now and then. But this time he’d brought home something that took him on. Who would have thought it?

“You don’t owe me anything, Big Bad Wolf.” Leila crossed her arms. “It was my pleasure. Wish you’d ripped his liver out.”

“I wish I had, too.” Dek smiled, all pointy, big teeth.

“But for now you’d better run out the back door while Rod is keeping the cop busy out there.”

“I already had that in mind.” He hesitated. “What about you?”

“What about me? You’re not concerned about me.”

“You’re wrong. I am.”

“Well, you can’t do anything for me, so you might as well do something for yourself. Go on.”

“Come with me.”

“What?” Leila blinked. She’d planned to escape the second she hit eighteen and no one could drag her back. Three months, one week, and four days from now.

“You heard me.”

Or she could go now. Even if he did get out of trouble with the police, Rod wouldn’t be chasing this particular stray.

“That’s a hell of a big decision to make. Why should I trust you?”

Dek flashed that big smile, looking as trustworthy as any wolf in sheep’s clothing. He didn’t look like just a kid. Why did that make the back of her neck tingle with nerves and… and something else? He was dangerous. But dangerous wasn’t all bad, was it? “You can find out why on the way out of here, kid.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Treva Harte has always been an overachiever. She also collects things. First it was degrees. First a B.A. in English, then she decided to go back for a Master’s degree. Not content with that, she added a J.D. Since then she’s added a husband, also an attorney, and two children to her collection. She’s continuing her ways as an overachiever, writing her wonderfully offbeat tales of passion and possibilities — in her spare time.

Visit her website at www.trevaharte.com.

Forge (Reckless Kings MC) by Harley Wylde #giveaway #mcromance #agegap #contemporaryromance @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

Whisper — Abducted at a young age, I’d learned to live with the brutal man who’d kidnapped me. Quick with his fists, he made sure I knew to keep quiet and do as I was told. Until nearly a decade later. When Forge came to confront the man I’m forced to call “Dad,” I knew it was my one chance. Saying my true name for the first time was both thrilling and scary. Going to live with a bunch of bikers was even more so. But I found out soon enough there wasn’t anything Forge wouldn’t do for me. I might have had a crush on him. Just a bit. Then my world imploded once more, and I ran. Now he’s back, and I’m terrified and excited all at once.

Forge — One of the boys who attacked Whisper is out on parole, and I know she’s clueless. I only intended to make sure she was all right. How the hell I ended up claiming her son as my own, then marrying her, is beyond me. Can’t say I’m too broken up about it. Whisper is all grown up, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want her.

With her attacker’s whereabouts unknown, and my club pissed at me, there’s a lot on my plate. But I have to say, bringing Whisper and little Jacob home with me had to be the best idea I ever had. Now that they’re mine, I’ll do anything to hold onto them.

WARNING: Forge is part of the Reckless Kings MC series. While it can be read as a stand-alone, you may enjoy the series more when read in order. The story contains violence, bad language, and adult situations, as well as darker content some may find difficult to read.

Available today at Changeling Press (Save 15%!)

Preorder for November 26th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Harley Wylde

“Dad! I’m going to be late. Would you hurry the hell up?” I yelled across the house.

“Where’s the fucking fire?” he demanded, stomping into the room in jeans with a blue button-down. He’d put his cut on over it. It was the closest he’d ever get to dressing up and I smiled, thinking he looked nice.

“The fire is called graduation. I need to be there in fifteen minutes or I can’t walk. You’re the one who made a big deal about me attending the local high school and having a normal life. Guess what? Normal kids walk across the stage and get a diploma, or so I’ve been told.”

“You driving there?” he asked.

“No.” I rubbed the toe of my boot on the floor. “I’m getting a ride from a friend.”

He froze, his jaw tensing and his eyes narrowing. “Friend? Whisper Evans, I know damn well your friends don’t come here to pick you up. Who the hell do you think you’re riding with?”

“Tommy Aikens asked to drive me to graduation and to the field party after. He’s meeting me at the gate in five minutes. I thought you could give me a ride up there.”

He folded his arms and glowered. Brick, otherwise known as Hank Evans, and my adopted father, got that stubborn look in his eyes I knew didn’t bode well for me. The day he’d brought me home with him, I’d not known what to expect. I’d once asked what happened to John Gillis, and he’d told me the man had been taken care of. I’d not asked again. Something told me they hadn’t handed him over to the police.

After I’d come to live with Brick, it had taken us a week to settle into a routine and get to know one another. Now it felt like I’d been his daughter all my life. I couldn’t imagine anyone I’d rather have for a dad. He’d been amazing, and he didn’t even give me shit about my crush on Forge.

I fingered the necklace I never took off. It had started as a piece of his artwork but had broken off. I’d commented on how pretty it was, so he’d smoothed out the edges, drilled a hole through it, and put it on a chain for me. Sadly, the big guy had only ever seen me as a child, and probably always would.

“Come on, Dad! I’m leaving for college in three days. Let me have a little fun tonight.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. But don’t come home pregnant or I’ll have to kill a motherfucker.”

I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. “Thanks, Dad. I promise I won’t stay out too late.”

“Come on. I’ll drop you at the gate and then ride out with the others. You wait inside the fence. You hear me? Lyle is on duty, and he’ll let you out when your friend gets here.”

I rolled my eyes. “We really are just friends, Dad. You know I don’t date. Never have, don’t plan to start now.”

Well, not entirely true. If a certain foxy older man ever looked at me as more than a kid, then I’d jump at the chance to date. Forge had saved me the day he’d come to meet with John Gillis, and I’d had a bit of hero worship going on. Then I’d started spending time with him and fell head over heels. No boy could ever measure up.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.

When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve. 

The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.

You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!

Enter for a chance to win a

Harley Wylde sticker pack or button pack!

Take You There by Willa Okati #mpreg #paranormalromance @Willa_Okati

Thoughtful, quiet, and just a wee bit on the dryly sarcastic side, Ethan teaches music at the university in Second Chance. With barely enough time to breathe between hysterical students and faculty shenanigans, he’s not looking for Mr. Right — just Mr. Right Now — and only when the moment calls for it. The beautiful man who calls himself “Blue” in a quick, dirty alley encounter should have satisfied him. But now Ethan can’t get Blue out of his mind, and can’t seem to stop looking for him.

Carter –”Blue” when he wants to stay anonymous — wears his scars on the inside, but they’re deep and still bleeding. He doesn’t venture far outside his antique & pawn shop unless he’s desperate for someone to touch and hold him and make him feel good for a little while. He promised himself he would never want more again. The smoldering musician who caught his eye, and what they did in the alley, should have been enough. That should have been the end of it.

It wasn’t. It isn’t. Their encounter left him pregnant, and he’s been frozen since then, not knowing how to break free of his shell or what he should do. Until Ethan finds him — and then, everything changes. Again.

Author’s Note: Also featuring Oscar, everybody’s favorite sarcastic best friend. We all need an Oscar in our lives.

Save 15% at Changeling Press

Or Preorder for November 19th at Retailers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Willa Okati

Was there a place like this in Second Chance?

Of course there was. Carter’s lips curved wryly around the rim of the highball glass he held to his lips. There was always a place like this no matter where you went. It just depended on whether who you asked knew what you wanted. And if you wanted a bar that didn’t serve chicken wings but did pour good beer and better tequila and top-shelf vodka, you wanted the bar called Speakeasy, just off Main Street. You could only get in through the back door and only if you knew where and how to knock, but once you did…

It wasn’t a place where everyone knew your name, but for most people there, that wasn’t even close to the point and sometimes —

Carter kept to himself when he could, lived silently and solitary, and he’d chosen that kind of life on purpose. It was better that way. Safer. He could watch his twelve and his six, and he could walk away from anything before it overwhelmed him. But sometimes —

Sometimes, he needed this.

Tucked quietly and carefully in one corner of the room, he kept the rim of a glass of tequila at his mouth, but only for show; he’d already sipped his way through two shots. Enough to work the tension out of his knotted muscles, but not so much that he’d do something he’d regret in the morning. Or if he did, to know it’d been worth it.

Carter’s hand spasmed around his glass, remembering it all too keenly, and knew he’d keep remembering until —

He should have turned the radio at his antique-slash-junk shop workbench off as soon as the first broadcast about the quarry disaster came through, but it’d caught him before he could switch the app off and he’d been lost. Drowning in it. He’d spent the day ignoring a workbench full of things that needed repairing, fixated on the steady voice of the broadcaster droning on and on and on with the lists of missing, injured, dead. On and on and on. Heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak, and he’d felt them all. Even now he could feel the echoes in his chest, cracking with each one —

He knew better.

Carter rubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes. He’d always been like that, ever since he was a kid. Too sensitive, even if he’s probably going to be an Omega, they’d said. Strange, even for someone with — you know — his kind of bloodline, and everyone knows how they are.

So.

He’d taken that to heart too. He’d learned how to turn himself off — but too well. Even if he hadn’t intended it, he’d gone too far in the other direction. Unless he was as careful as careful could be and didn’t slip up as he had with the radio, it took him so long to warm up to people and let them in that it turned them off, made them look at him oddly and give him a wide berth.

What’d happened today at the quarry wasn’t about him. Carter knew that.

But if he ever wanted to sleep again, he needed this.

Carter tilted his head back and gulped, letting the whole shot burn its way down his throat. He came up breathless, but — better. Much better, even if it left him gasping and with his heart pounding. He lightly thumped the heel of his shoe on wooden floorboards worn smooth from years of others doing the same. The owner, who set the playlists every night, had a sense of occasion. No wailing jazz or mournful blues tonight. Just hard, driving beats that made a man want to shout, stomp his boots, pump his fists to the sky.

To dance, and —

To erase everything except feeling good for a little while. 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a lifelong love of storytelling. Will’s definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for, though he — not she anymore — is a lot less quiet these days.

New at Changeling Press: The Difference Between by Stephanie Burk #orcs #fantasyromance #gay @FlashyCat

Rotic, a human boy, was a slave when High Orc Chieftain Vizri first rescued him. Now, as Vizri’s adopted son, Rotic has become a renowned warrior and leader of the Orc Army. Rotic is confused when he’s gifted with a male consort, but he knows he has earned his place in life, and he has full confidence nothing will ever take his power and position away from him.

Ogun is used and broken when he’s brought to the castle of the High Orc Chieftain as tribute — actually a sly insult — by the underhanded Dark Elves. When Ogun is named Consort and meets Rotic, his new partner, he finds himself lost in a whole new way of life before the sun has set. He has a new position and a growing relationship with Rotic. Nothing could ever ruin this for Ogun.

But with treacherous humans threatening the Orc Nation, magical and cultural landmines to traverse, and a new wife added to the mix, Ogun and Rotic’s lives are changing faster than they can blink. Ogun and Rotic have to learn to adjust and overcome before the differences between them become an insurmountable mountain that will destroy them both.

Publisher’s Note: The Difference Between was published previously by another house and has been extensively edited for re-release.

Save 15% at Changeling Press

Preorder at retailers for November 29th

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Stephanie Burke

The tent flap ripped open with surprising easy. But then, Vizri didn’t expect much from human beings on the whole. The dim light in the tent did nothing to hamper his vision, as Orc eyes were designed to be useful in the dark tunnels that spawned their ancestors as well as the bright sunlight in which the multitudes of humans dwelt.

The first impression? Humanity smelled. Even before he entered the tent the smell of sour milk and salt filled his nostrils, making him snort as he curled his nose in disgust. The place also smelled of human sex and excrement. It was nearly enough to make his eyes water.

It was a good thing his eyes adjusted so quickly, because almost as soon as he stepped foot inside the hide monstrosity the humans decided to call a domicile, he had to duck to the right as a pale blur flew at him from out of nowhere. He shifted his weight and reached behind him, gripping the shaft of his great-ax, but something, some odd instinct, made him stay his hand.

Unlike the confusing humans, Orcs always followed their instincts. He might be reluctant to swing but he was no fool. And an Orc who was always prepared for the worst was an Orc that lived to languish in the care of his wives. So he gripped the handle of the great weapon strapped to his back and he tracked the blur with his eyes.

It was a human, a small one. At least it looked — he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring, and nodded. Indeed, it was human, small… wounded, fearful, and furious at the same time. Interesting.

He was deciding if he should just put it out of its misery when it turned and snarled at him. He could not stop his brow-hair from rising as he stared at the pitiful creature. Although it never showed in his expression, the actions of this small wretch… delighted him. This small thing behaved in a most appropriate alpha-type manner. It was refreshing and confusing to see proper behavior out of a human, especially one so small and wounded.

It looked underfed and wild as it glared at him, its chest heaving as its eyes tracked rapidly around the room, looking for an escape route while keeping him firmly in view. He tilted his head to the side and relaxed his stance as the small human snarled again.

There was a table between him and the human, so he decided he had time to test a theory that had been raging along the lower courts of his chiefdom for years. Were humans truly intelligent beings, capable of instinctual thought and the ability to act properly on those impulses, or were they just the Elder Gods’ evolutionary joke?

He moved forward and unclasped a human weapon, a well made great sword, from his side. He had meant to bring it as a present to one of his wives who loved cute little trinkets like this one, but now it would do well to serve another purpose.

If the small human could pass his test, he would not put it out of its misery. If it actually reacted in the correct manner, then he might take it home as a pet and spare its life. One of his thirty-seven wives might like an intelligent toy to fetch and carry, if they could get past the smell.

He lay the sword on the table and stepped back to gage the creature’s reaction. When it just stood there, glaring at him, eyes still darting around the tent, he reached into another pouch at his side and withdrew a small jeweled dagger. He had taken it from the treasury the human in charge of this ramshackle village had acquired and unlike the worthless gold and other somewhat more useful jewels, he thought it could be bent and pounded into something like a bit of jewelry for one of his wives or for his newest consort. He moved forward and laid it on the table as well.

Still the small creature didn’t move, but its eyes were darting back and forth between him and the weapons, its scowl growing deeper.

Finally, Vizri unwound a heavy steel bolo from around his waist, a very important weapon in Orcish warfare, dropping that beside the dagger before he again stepped back. There. He had given the creature three options. He would wait and see if it was intelligent enough to realize he had given it a choice.

As he waited, he examined the pitiful thing, noting the many and varied differences between humans and Orc. It had none of the advantages that nature had blessed the Orc with for survival, which led many species to speculate that humans really were nature’s big joke.

It had thin skin, through which he could see its red blood pumping through its veins. Its ears were rounded and placed on the side of its head, not sharply arched and placed on top so that they could swerve and easily pick up the sounds of enemies approaching or sneaking around from behind. It had no claws for defense, no horns for intimidation, and worse of all, it had no protruding lower tusks. How could it properly mate if it could not gore its female into ecstasy?

Humans were a strange breed that had somehow managed to grab a foothold in the Orc territory.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

New from Changeling Press: Dragon’s Egg by Lena Austin #gay #fantasyromance @Lena_Austin

Puff the Magic Dragon lived by the sea

Ever wondered what happens when Jackie grows up?

Jack Draper’s an orphan, with what he’s always thought of as a very active imagination — until he discovers the dragon from his childhood memories is real. Worse, he’s the son of the usurper king of Honalee and the Red Sorceress — which means Jack is a wizard himself! Now Jack has to go to wizard school…

Could life get more confusing than being a modern day gay man who suddenly becomes a wizard/dragonrider — and heir to the throne his father didn’t earn? In a word — Yes.

Publisher’s Note: Dragon’s Egg (Box Set) contains the previously published novellas Dragon’s Egg, Dragon’s Stone, and Dragon’s Quest.

Get the Paperback at Amazon

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Lena Austin
Excerpt from 
Dragon’s Egg

Jack stood. He wanted Puff as much as the dragon wanted him, insanely enough. He cast about for a way to put Puff at ease. “The tea is undoubtedly ready. Are you warm enough?”

Puff raised a sardonic eyebrow, and his voice was heavy with irony. “Yes, I believe I am, if you refer to my body temperature.” He squared his shoulders. “Yes, tea would be lovely.”

Jack reached for the steaming kettle, but Puff batted his hand away. “You can’t take the heat. Allow me.”

Jack appreciated the double entendres flying back and forth between them. “I can so take the heat, but I’ll allow you the privilege of being in charge, at least this time.”

His drawled words had the desired effect. Puff shot him an unfocused look, and turned back to lift the hot kettle with his bare hands. He poured the tea into the cups with studious care. “So you say.”

Jack picked up his cup and matched the dragon’s ironic smile. “Indeed I do.” He limped with deliberate steps to the dragon’s stone pedestal and sat on the edge. He knew he now sat on Puff’s bed wearing nothing but a pair of pants. He hoped the silent invitation was clear.

Puff gave Jack an opaque look. The only sound was the faint rush of the sea, the tinkle of the waterfall in the basin, and the hum between them that was purely mental. Puff’s eyes narrowed. “Stop teasing, Jackie. It’s not nice.”

Knowing Puff could not possibly see facial expressions over the dimly lit distance between them, Jack snorted. “You seem to think I am. I’m not. Are you going to take me up on the invitation, or will you force me to be crude and blunt?”

One elegant silver and black eyebrow lifted toward Puff’s hairline. “Yes. I want you to be crude and blunt. Tell me what you want, Jackie.”

Jack sighed, making it deliberately loud. “Very well. One, could you manage to call me Jack? I’ve not been called Jackie since I left.”

Puff sipped his tea. “I think I can manage that. Now that you’re a fully grown man, can you manage my real name of Aneurin?”

Jack choked back laughter. “I can indeed, Aneurin. It fits you better, to call you the Welsh name for gold. Your golden eyes haunted my dreams for many a night.”

The dragon put the cup down with deliberate care. “You’ve been dreaming of me?”

Jack took a sip of his tea, slurping deliberately. “Yes. Dreams of you and I making love, right here on this great bloody bed of yours.”

Puff-Aneurin stared at the floor. “And you don’t mind this dream?”

“At first, I minded. Only in that I didn’t think it was right to be making love with a character from a children’s song.”

Puff chuckled. “Should have never gone to the pub and had a few pints. Told some idiot songster while I was in my cups, but retained enough sense to make it a tale.” He shrugged. “Didn’t expect the song to cross the pond.”

“Puff, er, Aneurin… sorry. That song was sung in the 1960’s before I was born.” It had always bugged him that the song was older than he by nearly a decade.

“Oh. That. I went back in time to find some good ale, not that watered down piss they sell these days. I’ve heard in America they sell it cold, much to my horror.” Aneurin grinned at his dig on Jack’s adopted home.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Someone cursed Lena Austin with “may you have a life so full you’ll have many tales to tell your grandchildren.” Lena’s a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She’s been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba — she’s got a lifetime of “Research material!”

Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won’t listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something?

Vampire Kisses Vol 2 by NYT Bestseller Angela Knight #vampires #darkfantasy #BDSM @AngelaKnight @changelingpress

Vampire agents, SEALs, captives, and bodyguards fight their way into their women’s hearts.

Hope’s Kiss: When a police detective discovers a chamber of horrors in the basement of an old house, she’s horrified to find her ex-lover, Mark Wilder, locked in one of the cells. Naked and covered in bites and blood, he’s been changed into a vampire. And he’s insane with bloodlust. Unless Hope can reawaken Mark’s humanity, he’s doomed to remain the slave of a vicious predator. What’s worse, his vampire sire intends Hope to become Mark’s first victim.

Kissing the Hunter: Navy SEAL Logan McLean is on a quest for revenge against the monsters who murdered his wife. Virginia Hart is a sexy vampire searching for her lost soulmate, only to find him in a man determined to kill her. She must convince him all vampires aren’t psychotic murderers — if he doesn’t get her first.

A Candidate for the Kiss: on the trail of a hot story, reporter Dana Ivory stumbles across a truly explosive scoop — a handsome secret agent who happens to be a vampire. She wants her story, but Gabriel Archer has something much sexier in mind. He’s been looking for someone like Dana for a very long time: a candidate for the kiss.

Blood and Kisses: A murderous vampire assassin is hot on the trail of Beryl St. Cloud. Her only hope lies with yet another bloodsucker, James Decker. Broke and desperate, she offers herself as payment for the mercenary’s protection. But will the price end up being her very soul?

Get the Paperback at Amazon

Get the ebook at Changeling Press on November 5th

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Angela Knight
Excerpt from Hope’s Kiss

He was naked, covered in blood, and lying on the floor of a steel cage.

She’d still know Mark Wilder anywhere.

Detective Hope Barton scanned the room from the bottom step, eyes flicking from the cage to the bloody wooden table beside it, to the shackles that hung from blood splattered cement walls.

The big, dimly lit basement reeked of murder: body fluids, rotting gore, and helpless suffering. Her stomach heaved, but Hope had been a violent crimes detective for two years, and she’d stood over her share of slaughter. Swallowing hard, she forced her dinner back where it belonged and did her job.

“Mark.” Hope strode toward the cage, ignoring the sticky puddles drying on the cement underfoot. She was too busy scanning the room for the key to his cell. There was no sign of one, damn it. “What the hell happened to you?” When he didn’t move, she raised her voice in a cop’s bark. “Mark!”

He stirred and lifted his head from the cage’s dirty floor. One dazed green eye met hers under a shock of matted blond hair. Blood and filth streaked his face, his lips were cut and bruised, and his left eye was swollen shut.

Somebody had beaten the crap out of him. And judging from his bloody knuckles, he’d fought back hard. Which was no surprise. Mark never took anything lying down.

Her gut twisted. How was she going to get him out of here? She grabbed the thick iron bars in both hands. “Mark… Mark, it’s Hope.”

For a suspended instant, he stared at her without any recognition at all.

“Arrrraaah!” With a tortured animal howl, he leaped at her in an impossible eight-foot bound. Pure reflex had her jolting back, barely dodging his hand as it shot through the bars.

How did he do that? Nobody could jump like that!

Mark’s lips peeled off snapping teeth, his powerful body straining to reach her with fingers curled into claws. His bare, bloody feet thudded on the bars as he kicked them savagely, trying to bend the steel. His one good eye glittered in frenzy.

He has fangs. She froze, staring at his sharply pointed canine teeth. Sweet God, Mark has fangs!

He sure as hell hadn’t had them in high school. She’d put her tongue in his mouth often enough to know.

As he bellowed and clawed, Hope damn near drew down on him. She managed to drag her hand away from the grip of her shoulder-holstered 9mm Glock, but it took an effort. I’m not going to shoot Mark Wilder. God, she ached to call for backup, but she no longer trusted anyone in the department.

Mark finally stopped howling. Clinging to the bars, he stared at her, his good eye feral and desperate, like a wolf with one leg in a bear trap.

“Mark, damn it, it’s me!” She all but screamed it, her voice raw with frustration and fear.

Recognition flickered in his gaze. “Hope?” His voice sounded broken, raspy, as if he’d been screaming. Screaming for a very long time.

Pity raked at her heart, along with a certain tense relief. At least he’d recognized her. “Yeah, it’s me.” She gave him a twisted smile. “Guess you were right. There is a vampire in Reede County.”

“Told you.” He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as if fighting some powerful urge. “I warned you… what he was.”

Yeah, but she’d thought he’d lost his mind. The story he’d told her last week had certainly sounded insane.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades, Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work, Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police department.

Find her Online: Website | Facebook

Stunner/Havoc by Marteeka Karland is now in Paperback! #mcromance #romanticsuspense @marteekakarland

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my woman safe — even if it means giving her up. Forever.

Stunner (Bones MC 9)
Suzie — I’m the youngest grad student at MIT, and that doesn’t exactly make me popular. I miss Stunner. He’s seen me at my worst — I want him to see me at my best.

Stunner — I’ve got more than a few skeletons in my closet. Suzie deserves a man who’s not a stone-cold killer, but I have my uses. Now my past has caught up to me. I won’t let any of it touch Suzie — even if it means giving her up. Forever.

Havoc (Salvation’s Bane MC 4)
Spring — I’m dancing at Salvation’s Angels, a strip club owned by the notorious Salvation’s Bane MC, to earn enough to pay my custody attorney. I have enough on my plate without having to deal with Havoc, the sexy-as-sin vice president of Salvation’s Bane. I’m not sure the man’s got my best interests in mind.

Havoc — When I came across Spring swishing her little ass on stage at our strip club, I know I don’t want other men seeing what she’s got to offer. I’m addicted to her and the feisty son she’s raising alone. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe — and make them both mine.

WARNING: Explicit violence, which could be triggers for some readers, sensual scenes, including spanking and voyeurism. As always, you can expect a HEA with no cheating.

Available at Amazon

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland
Excerpt from Stunner (Bones MC 9)

“FIGHT!”

Stunner bared his teeth at Pig. The fucking bastard had opened his fucking mouth for the last fucking time. The alarm had been sounded the second Pig had uttered the words “girl’s a fuckin’ pussy,” in reference to Suzie and how she avoided the Boneyard when she was home.

The call to arms went out over the bar from the recently patched member, Kickstand. Despite being friends with Pig, Kickstand had turned out to be a loyal member of Bones and a good guy if a little shy in the brains department. Like how he continued to be friends with this motherfucker.

Good thing the warning had gone out, because Stunner had had all he was taking from the stupid pissant. Stunner was out of his chair and had the former prospect for Bones by the throat. By the time everyone realized where the fight was, Stunner had slammed Pig against the wall three times, not taking care with his head. If he beat the fucker to death, he’d get rid of the body where no one would ever find it.

“Back the fuck off, Stunner!” Bohannon, the club’s enforcer, tried to pry Stunner’s fingers from around Pig’s throat. Stunner didn’t take his eyes from Pig’s. If he killed the man, he was going to look into his eyes while he did it. He stopped beating Pig’s head against the wall, but only because it was wood and gave just enough to prevent him from splitting the other man’s skull. So he resorted to squeezing the life out of him. Less mess that way. Not like anyone would miss the fucker. The club had been trying to get rid of him for a couple of years now. This seemed like as good a time as any.

“I know we want rid of him, Stunner, but not like this! We don’t kill without a good reason.” Bohannon was still freeing Pig from Stunner. “Let him go!”

Had he spoken out loud? Just as well. If they knew his intention, they could get anyone out of the bar who wasn’t Bones, and he could finish this business where he should have started it. In private.

“He’s gonna kill the fucker this time.” That was Kickstand. Kid sounded distressed. Like Stunner gave a good Goddamn. If the kid was stupid enough to think Pig was worth saving, he deserved the heartache. “I tried to tell him to back off, Cain. Told him he didn’t want to poke Stunner, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Stunner!”

Stunner turned to look at the Bones president. Unable to stop himself, he growled at the other man. No way he was taking away his kill. Not this time. Cain raised an eyebrow and glanced at someone beside him.

“Don’t look at me. He might be my sister’s kid, but I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout killin’ the stupid cunt my own damned self.”

“Well, he can’t do it here, Arkham,” Cain said, sounding annoyed. “Not with half the bar seein’ the start of the fuckin’ fight.”

Arkham sighed. “Fine. But this happens again, you’re on your own.”

All that registered in the back of Stunner’s mind, but his real focus was on watching Pig slowly lose consciousness. It wouldn’t be long after that until he died. Satisfaction filled Stunner, and he took a deep breath, relishing the thought he’d was about to choke the life out of the fucker.

Pig’s face was now a satisfying shade of purple, and Stunner thought he might just finish the job before Cain could get enough people together to pull him off. Next thing he knew, several hands tugged at him and arms wrapped around him, pulling him off his prey. One fucker had his arm around Stunner’s neck, but he wasn’t concerned about someone choking him. He was pissed he might miss the moment Pig died. No way that was happening.

“No!” Stunner was desperate to hang on to Pig. They’d have to pry his fingers off the fucker’s neck. After they cut off his arm, Goddammit. There was no way he was letting go voluntarily.

“What the fuck did Pig say to set Stunner off like this?” Cain sounded equal parts pissed and exasperated. There might have been a touch of worry in there for some fucking reason.

“Get Stunner off him and the two of you go across the room,” Kickstand said. “Then I’ll think about tellin’ ya.”

“Stunner, let that fucker go, NOW!” Cain’s voice was hard with authority. Normally, Stunner would have done what the president told him immediately when he used that voice. Hell, he’d only ever heard it a couple of times since he’d been with Bones, and it had made him cringe even when it wasn’t directed at him. Now, though, well. It was going to take more than a true hardass to keep him from making this kill. Not even Cain was going to stop this.

Finally, someone managed to pry his fingers from Pig’s throat. Stunner let out a war bellow that promised retaliation. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, knew he needed to take a step back and get himself under control, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t think beyond the rage and longing, and emptiness, and loneliness that filled him. In his heart, he knew that, if he killed Pig now it would somehow make him worthy. Of her. Becoming worthy in her eyes was worth any amount of pain later. And Lord knew Cain would dish out the pain if Stunner openly disobeyed him.

“Back the fuck off, Stunner,” Cain said again, getting between him and Pig. Stunner tried to look around the other man, to get a bead on Pig so he could see the best way back to him to finish the job. “Look at me! Eyes on me!”

Reluctantly, Stunner shook his head, knowing Cain wasn’t going to let him kill Pig. Not tonight. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leashing the madness inside him.

“Eyes on me,” Cain said again. He sounded calmer this time. Not the hardass Stunner knew him to be. “You back with me?”

Stunner paused for several seconds. Was he? Yeah. He had it under control.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.