Spotlight: Tobias (Salvation’s Bane MC) by Marteeka Karland #mcromance #agegap @marteekakarland @changelingpress

I hate bullies. Gymnastics moms are the worst, too. So when a girl who looks no older than the kids with the overbearing mothers steps in to take over, I’m more than a little skeptical. Her name is, of all things, Kitty, and I’ve been watching her from a distance. I just didn’t realize she was a highly trained athlete in the body of a young, beguiling, innocent woman. Everything about her calls to my protective instincts. Especially when I find her putting herself in the hands of the very tormentor who broke my sister.

Available Today at Changeling Press

Preorder for April 16th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland

One thing Tobias had decided over the last few weeks was that little girls ought to be able to be little girls. Oh, and gymnastics moms were bitches.

Like right now. There was a busty redhead yelling at a kid who looked like she was maybe in her late teens. Tall with flame-orange hair, the girl looked like she was on the verge of crying. Which pissed Tobias the fuck off. He wanted to punch the bitch in the face. Let her take a fall. Maybe she’d find out the fucking mat wasn’t so fucking soft when she landed.

Just as he was about to intervene — it was his Goddamned gym in the first fucking place — another girl inserted herself between the two. This girl looked close to the same age. Slight of build, she carried herself with confidence. It was the only indication she might be older than a teenager. Her mahogany-colored hair was braided into a long, thick tail at the back of her head that fell almost to her hips. It was what gave her away.

Kitty was obviously very good with the kids, but she also seemed to be an accomplished gymnast on her own. Not much bigger than the orange-haired kid, she had more muscle in her legs and arms, though she was much shorter than the adult redhead. She talked to the older woman for a moment, smiling a megawatt smile, seeming to smooth things over. The older woman backed off, but shook her finger at the young girl once before turning back to the mothers’ area.

Tobias watched as the two girls interacted for a while, Kitty obviously giving some pointers before putting a hand on the other girl’s shoulder and urging her back to the large, square spring floor. Tobias had no idea how they kept everyone from slamming into each other, but each gymnast seemed to have his or her own section, depending on what they were working on. He watched for several minutes while the two girls went through some moves, then Kitty encouraged the other one to do the skill she’d previously fallen on. Immediately, Tobias could see how the stuff they’d worked on for a scant few minutes fit with the skill the kid was trying to learn. She stumbled a little on the landing, but she didn’t fall on her face, and it was obvious she was pleased with the change.

The orange-haired kid jumped up and down, clapping her hands, and threw herself into Kitty’s arms. They both laughed for a few seconds before the girl did the skill again. Then again. Repetition was a staple of gymnastics.

Not for the first time, he wondered why he’d taken on this responsibility. He’d volunteered to hire a decent coach and install the recommended equipment. Not high-end, but sturdy and competition legal. Three days a week, he opened the gym for the coach and her band of tumblers. They ranged in age from about five or six to high-school boys and girls. Classes were free to the students through level seven. Everything beyond that was preparation for elite-level gymnastics, which he knew from previous experience was basically Olympic level. Professionals. This coach said she didn’t teach that level, and most of the kids were just that. Kids. Either in cheerleading or school gymnastics. Even though Salvation’s Bane had discovered she was trying to break into elite gymnastics, they paid the coach for her time and gave her a decent, rent-free place for her students to train. In return, Bane used the place as a tax write-off and sometimes, occasionally, every once in a very little while, laundered money when they were paid for some paramilitary operation inside the US without permission. Happened from time to time when Thorn took jobs outside of ExFil, the security company run by the president of their sister club, Bones. Or something like that. Tobias didn’t do tax shit. He punched things.

The reason Tobias had taken on this responsibility was twofold. First, he wanted control over the remodel of the building. He was the instructor for any police or military organization they trained, so he wanted a say in what it was OK to change. Second? Yeah. He really hated gymnastics moms. Always had. In his opinion, they were worse than Little League dads and pageant moms. They pushed these tiny little girls into doing things they could — and often did — hurt themselves doing. Tobias saw it as his mission in life to make sure any mom who was out-of-bounds got called out. Dads didn’t seem to be as bad, but there were one or two. The come-to-Jesus meetings had been swift and eye opening for those men.

As he watched, the two girls continued until Kitty encouraged the younger one to continue on her own. Kitty gave a little wave and went to the balance beam and started working out, stretching and doing handstands and such on the narrow surface. The younger girl’s mother, instead of praising the girl like Tobias thought she should, gestured wildly at her, obviously displeased about something. Fucking bitch.

Tobias made his way from his office to the stair on the balcony overlooking the massive gym. The place was three stories of open space. When he was training the guys, they built scale models on the floor to replicate urban settings or whatever they needed. Now, it was filled with local children on competitive gymnastics apparatus. He trotted down the stairs and stalked straight toward the orange-haired gymnast and her mother.

“Tobias.” The warning came from the gallery where some of the parents waited for the lessons to be concluded. Stryker gave him an exasperated look. “You can’t go beating up on women you don’t like. It’s bad for business.”

“Ain’t like we’re gettin’ money from this anyway. It’s a fuckin’ tax write-off.”

“Yeah, but we still need it. I know you’re headed to the redhead, and I’d say with good reason, but keep it down, OK? We don’t want people afraid to come here.”

“They yell at their kids like that, maybe they need to be afraid.”

“Yeah, well, if you run them off, what happens then? Be nice so the kid has a safe place to go if she needs it.”

Tobias sighed. He and Stryker always had each other’s backs. But sometimes it was a bitch when Stryker was right.

“Fuckin’ bitches are just as vicious as I remember.” Tobias still stood there, watching. The mother seemed to sense his presence and glanced in his direction. Did a double take. Then she stood up straighter, her entire focus on Tobias, her daughter and the girl’s perceived failure forgotten. She pushed her chest out and slinked his way.

“Yeah,” Stryker chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “I hear ya. Good luck with that.”

“Wait. You leaving?” It was all Tobias could do not to burst out in a maniacal laugh. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the woman. More that he was afraid of what he’d do to the bitch if he had to be in her company more than a few seconds.

“Only stepped in to calm your tits. How you proceed from here is all you, brother.”

“Fucker.”

As the woman approached him — eyefucking the living hell out of him — it took everything in Tobias not to take a step back away from her. The only thing making him stand his ground was his Marine pride. No gymnastic-mom bitch was making this Marine retreat.

“Hello there,” she purred. Perfectly manicured nails reached for his chest. Before she could touch his shirt, however, Tobias caught her wrist. A not-so-subtle hint she shouldn’t touch him. “I don’t remember seeing you around. I’m Madonna.” She glanced behind him, not making an effort to hide what she was doing. “Where’d your friend go?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.” Rude, but Tobias wasn’t in the mood.

Red just shrugged. “His loss, but no matter.” She gave him a carnivorous smile. “You’re still here. We could…” She trailed off, her smile going even wider, “pass the time in private until my daughter’s finished for the day. Could take a few hours.”

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.

Wrong by Shelby Morgen #agegap #firstresponders @shelbymorgen @changelingpress

Katie’s got her eye on tall, dark, and hunky, wrapped in black leather and jeans.

Problem. He’s so sinfully sexy, she can’t get a word out in his presence. Not to mention the fact that he looks like he’s barely legal, at best. She needs to get him out of her system.

Michael’s got other ideas. He’s set his sights on improving Katie’s theory of the Big Bang — in more ways than one.

Get it at Changeling Press

Preorder for April 9th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Shelby Morgen


Go for it.

No, no, no. Not going to happen.

Come on, Katie. You can do this.

Absolutely not.

Oh my God. He looks even better without the jacket. Look at that body. And why do you think he’s holding the jacket there?

Katie tore her gaze away from the cowboy holding the jacket, firmly deciding not to speculate on what all that black leather might or might not be hiding. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy the book.”

Katie picked at the book cover, trying to contain her agitation. This was her third book signing in as many months, and the third time this cowboy had lined up for her autograph. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Could it?

Stop staring at his crotch.

She averted her eyes, knowing she was blushing furiously. She looked down at the book in her hands — her latest release, Cosmic Theory and The Big Bang — and forced herself to quit thumbing the edge of the flyleaf.

I’d like to show him a big bang.

Oh, that was just wrong. She worked hard at not giggling. Physicists did not giggle. Not at book signings. And not because a handsome stranger stood in her line. Especially not when that sinfully sexy leather clad stranger’d shown up twice before — for the same book — and she’d still not been able to get a single word out of her stupid mouth.

You can do this! Come on, Katie. He’s next up. Say something. Anything! Speak!

She looked up into the most gorgeous set of blue-green eyes she’d ever seen — where were his sunglasses? — and, once again, froze.

“Michael,” he supplied.

What? Why was he telling her his name? Oh, so she could sign the book. Flustered, she reached for her pen — why had she set it down? — and knocked into her water glass. “Shit!” Katie clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Whoops!” Michael grabbed the glass — and the pitcher — just in time.

Michael — she’d already known his name — she never forgot names — had the grace to laugh, just loud enough to cover her indiscretion. Hastily flipping the book open to the title page, she wrote For Michael — you’re a lifesaver! Dr. Catherine Vargen. “Thank you,” she managed out loud.

There. She’d done it. She’d actually spoken to him. On some crazy inspiration, she pulled out one of her promo cards. “I’m giving a lecture at the planetarium tonight,” she offered.

“What are you doing afterward?”

She blinked, twice, looking, she knew, like an insane owl. “Excuse me?”

“Q & A? Group discussion?”

“Oh.” Yes, of course that’s what he’d meant. Idiot. “Yes, I’ll be fielding questions after the lecture.”

“Great. I’ll be there.”

“Thank you!” she repeated lamely as he headed for the register.

Giving her a great view of tight jeans over a really fine looking ass.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Quit looking! Jail bait. You’ll get yourself arrested!

He couldn’t be that young, could he? No. College student. Had to be at least twenty-one or twenty-two, maybe. Still. Twenty years her junior. Wrong. Just plain wrong.

Yeah, well, all she’d done so far was look. Couldn’t arrest her for that. Not while he had his clothes on, anyway.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Shelby Morgen loves writing offbeat tales that defy as many rules as possible.

She likes chocolate with her peanut butter, suspense with her romance, and kink with her sex, and she’s always had a hard time keeping science fiction, fantasy and paranormal from mixing with her kink.

Shelby shares her belief in electronic publishing with her longtime friend and partner, Bill, her husband of nearly four decades.

Preorder: Hawk (Reckless Kings MC) by Harley Wylde #mcromance #agegap @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

Hayley — Having both a father and brother who are in law enforcement, and overprotective, doesn’t make it easy to date. Which is why I was still a virgin at eighteen and had never had a serious boyfriend. If I’d realized chasing Cuddles through the biker compound would result in the hottest night of my life, I might have fixed my hair and dressed a little better. Not that Hawk seemed to mind. He made my knees weak and blew my mind. I just didn’t realize the night would end with a free gift with purchase — one that’s an eighteen-year-long commitment.

Hawk — Never thought I’d make it to the age of forty without ever finding someone special. But I did. Then I met Hayley. She’s the last woman I should fall for, but I can’t seem to help myself. Too bad I figured it out after she disappeared. If I’d known our one night had repercussions, I’d have tried harder to find her. Finding out I have a daughter is the best and scariest thing, but it means I get what I want most. A family.

WARNING: Hawk is part of the Reckless Kings MC series and contains scenes of graphic violence and adult relationships, a couple who just can’t seem to get it right, a troublesome raccoon, and some well-meaning meddlesome bikers who aren’t above causing a bit of mischief.

Available now at Changeling Press

Preorder for April 2nd at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Harley Wylde

Hawk

I leaned against the back of the Dixie Reapers’ clubhouse, enjoying a cigarette and a little alone time. We’d been here two days with Beast and his woman. I understood the reason behind the trip to Alabama, but I was ready to get back home. Nothing against the Reapers, but the men with old ladies only wanted to do family-oriented shit and the single ones were all about the free pussy in the clubhouse. I’d have preferred the middle of the road. Or maybe I was getting old. The women in the clubhouse only wanted to sink their teeth into someone in hopes of getting claimed.

Nothing against the club whores, but they didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting claimed by me. I wanted a woman who looked like an angel on the outside, but clawed my back and screamed my name in the bedroom. Someone respectable to the outside world who only showed that devilish side in private. I was starting to think she was a damn unicorn and I’d never find her.

I inhaled another lungful of nicotine before letting it out. Beast had mostly given up smoking since he’d found out Lyssa was pregnant. Before that, he’d have been out here with me. I had no problem with his priorities changing, as long as he focused on the club when we needed him. But I sometimes felt like I’d lost my brother. He wasn’t down to party like he’d been before, even though he’d slowed down a bit even before Lyssa showed up.

I heard something rustling through the grass and a muttered “I’m going to kill you when I find you.” Definitely a woman’s voice. Since I doubted it was a club whore, it had to be one of the old ladies or some other family member of the Dixie Reapers. Which meant I needed to give her a wide berth.

A fat raccoon went waddling by me wearing a harness and dragging a leash. I stared at it, wondering if I’d had more to drink than I thought or if I’d gone crazy. Who the fuck leashed a raccoon?

A moment later a goddess stepped into the moonlight. Cut-off shorts clung to her like a second skin, and the tank she had on left little to the imagination. Her long, blonde hair fell in curls nearly to her waist.

“I swear to God, Cuddles, I’m going to turn you into a fur muff when I catch you.”

I nearly choked as I tried to hold back a laugh. Cuddles? She might be beautiful, but she was damn sure peculiar if she’d made a pet of that raccoon and named it something so ridiculous. Oddly, I found her intriguing, even if she was crazy as a bedbug.

I watched her stomp past me, mesmerized by the sway of her ass. The shorts barely covered her ass cheeks, and fuck if I wasn’t jealous of them for getting to cup the tempting globes. I reached down to adjust myself, my cock getting uncomfortably hard.

“Cuddles? Cuddles! Goddamnit! We’re not supposed to be in here to begin with. Are you trying to get me killed?” She huffed and stamped her foot.

“Need some help, beautiful?” I asked, pushing away from the wall and stepping out of the shadows.

She whirled to face me, hand at her throat, and her blue eyes wide. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Hawk. My club is here visiting the Dixie Reapers. I think the question is who are you?”

She folded her arms, like she was trying to hold herself together. Her lips pressed together, and she glanced away. It was clear she didn’t want to give me her name, which made me want to know even more.

“Guess I should go get Tank,” I said. “I’m sure he can spare a few men to help you find your pet.”

She jolted. “No! Wait, I… I’m not supposed to be inside the gates, but Cuddles took off and I needed to find him.”

Now we were getting somewhere.

“I’ll help you find Cuddles, on one condition.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Your name, for one.”

She licked her lips and shifted on her feet. “Hayley. Hayley Daniels.”

“That wasn’t so painful, was it? All right, Hayley. My second condition is that you spend some time with me while my club is here.”

She jolted and took a step back. “I can’t! I… you don’t understand.”

I moved closer until I could reach out and wrap a lock of her honey-colored hair around my fingers. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

“My family tolerates the Dixie Reapers, but my dad and brother will go through the roof if they find out I’m hanging around bikers. You said you’re only here visiting. Why bother spending time with me?”

“Because I find you fascinating.”

“When you say spend time… what exactly do you mean? Because if it’s sex, I don’t do one-night stands.”

“I don’t take what isn’t offered, beautiful. Just want to get to know you. Not asking for anything more.”

“All right. I need to catch Cuddles before he gets into trouble.”

I took her hand and led her farther into the darkness. I couldn’t believe I was going to spend the night chasing after a fucking raccoon. We finally found the beast, tail up in a trash can. It might have been funny, if Preacher didn’t have a gun trained on it.

“No!” Hayley screamed and took off.

Preacher swung his gun toward her before seeing me and lowering the weapon. “Christ, Hawk. All those women at the clubhouse and you had to go and find the most innocent girl in town? What the hell are you doing inside the compound, Hayley? Your dad and brother know you’re here?”

“Not exactly,” she said, reaching into the trash and pulling out her pet. She gripped the leash when she set Cuddles on the ground. The raccoon reached up and wrapped its front paws around her leg, brushing his head against her. “Cuddles ran off. He came in here and I had to catch him.”

Preacher ran a hand over his head. “Who the fuck is on the damn gate tonight?”

She danced from foot to foot again. “Spencer.”

Preacher rolled his eyes. “Of-fucking-course. Naturally he let you waltz right in without telling anyone.”

I glanced from Preacher to Hayley and back again. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means Spencer would do anything for Hayley. They were best friends until he started to prospect for us. Her brother had a shit fit and read Spencer the riot act, forbidding him to go anywhere near Hayley.”

“Your brother sounds like an asshole,” I said.

Hayley snickered. “You’re not wrong. He has a god complex.”

“Take Cuddles and get the fuck out of here, Hayley. We don’t need your dad and brother putting us under a microscope. We may be more legit these days, but old habits die hard.”

She gave a jerky nod, picked up her pet, and walked off. I watched her a moment before deciding to follow. I tried to tell myself we’d made a deal and she needed to uphold her end. I had to wonder if it was more. I hadn’t liked the idea of her and some punk ass wannabe being close. No, if she was going to have a biker between her thighs, it would be me.

I was starting to understand how Beast had fallen so hard and fast for his woman. Seeing Hayley tramp through the compound, chasing a raccoon of all things, something inside me had twisted into a pretzel. I didn’t like the feeling in my gut, or the way my heart beat a little faster in her presence.

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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!

Find her on: Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | Website

New Release: Kraken/Demon paperback by Harley Wylde #mcromance #AgeGap @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe and make them mine. No one will take them from me.

Kraken (Hades Abyss MC 4 — Mississippi Chapter)
Phoebe — Kraken is different from any man I’ve ever met. He’s more than a decade older than me, but I don’t care. I know the Sadistic Saints will never let me go, but I’ll risk it all to be with Kraken.

Kraken — Never counted on finding a single mom trapped in a life she didn’t ask for. Taking her with me means war, but there’s no way I’ll walk out of here without her. Phoebe’s mine, so is her daughter, Ember, and I’ll spill as much blood as I deem necessary to protect my family. No one will take them from me.

Demon (Devil’s Fury MC 6)
Farrah — I knew what it would mean if I flirted with the Devil’s Fury Sergeant-at-Arms. Leave it to me to find trouble around every corner. I’m not winning at the adulting thing.

Demon — She was a one-night stand, until the condom broke. Then I found out she lied to me. The hot little number in my bed is the daughter of a Dixie Reaper. Now I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’s safe, and I’ll make her mine — permanently.

Get it at Amazon

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Harley Wylde
Excerpt from Kraken

I left my room with Joe’s hand on my ass, and made my way to the main part of the clubhouse. I’d been right about the party getting out of control. Naked women paraded through the area, smashed bottles crunched under my feet, and smoke hung heavy in the air. I doubted they were smoking cigarettes, or at least not only that. Three men sat at the bar with colors from another club — Hades Abyss MC was stitched on the rockers. I ran my hands down my short skirt and took a breath to steady my nerves. At least with Deuce and his crew, I knew what to expect. These guys were an unknown.

Then again, after surviving my first night here, I could live through anything.

“Get moving, whore,” Joe said, shoving me from behind.

I stumbled and made my way over to the bar. Deuce had his head thrown back, laughing his ass off at something they said. His eyes lit with an unholy fire as he saw me approaching. The smirk on his lips made my stomach flip and knot. It never meant anything good.

“Here she is, boys. The best I have to offer. The three of you are welcome to take her to the playroom, or just have your fun with her out here,” Deuce said. “The rest of us wouldn’t mind watching.”

I swallowed the knot in my throat and plastered a smile on my face. “Hi, I’m Phoebe.”

“She’ll treat you real good,” Deuce said. The look he cast my way clearly said there would be hell to pay if I didn’t. “She’ll do anything you want.”

The man closest to me turned and my breath caught at how striking he was. Handsome didn’t seem to do him justice. Ink covered his arms and peeked from the neck of his shirt. His beard wasn’t wild like Deuce’s but trimmed neatly and the perfect length. I scanned his cut and saw his name: Kraken — Sgt at Arms. He blocked the others from my view and I wondered if they were officers too.

“They’re here for business,” Deuce said. “Why don’t you take them and show them all a good time?”

“No offense, but we don’t like sharing,” one of the others said. “If she’s your best, let Kraken have her.”

The biker stood and held out his hand. My palm slid against Kraken’s rougher one and shivers raked my spine. I’d never met anyone who looked at me the way he did. I could drown in his gaze. He led me down the hall and my heart slammed against my ribs. He drew me to a stop in the middle of the hallway and I wondered if he wanted to start here. Wouldn’t be the first time I’d been shoved to my knees or backed against the wall.

“Where’s your room?” he asked.

My… No. No, no, no. We couldn’t go in there. It felt like someone tightened their hand around my throat. My heart raced, and my knees nearly gave out.

“Not my room.”

He looked down at me, pinning me in place with his gaze. “You got something to hide?”

“I…”

His grip tightened on my hand and my eyes went wide as I sucked in a breath. Pain shot through my wrist and up my arm. I whimpered and he loosened his hold, but dragged me farther down the hallway. He stopped in front of the last three doors, eyeing each one. I dug in my heels when he opened the one to my room.

“No, we can’t… please!”

He yanked me into the room, but the moment he saw the crib in the corner, he froze. “What the fuck?”

“Please. I’ll do whatever you want, but not in here. Not near my baby.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. You look like a damn kid yourself and you have a baby? In a clubhouse?”

“You didn’t care a minute ago how young I look,” I said. I inwardly winced and wondered if he would hit me. Deuce had, and for much less. This guy was visiting the Sadistic Saints, and held rank in his club. Now wasn’t the time for me to be mouthy.

“I don’t fuck kids. I figured if you were out there on offer, you must be legal, but now I’m not so sure. Don’t know a single damn club who lets a whore keep a kid in her room. Start talking, girl. How old are you? Why the hell are you here?”

I sucked in a breath, wondering if I could trust him. He hadn’t tried to force himself on me, or demand I drop to my knees. It made him different from the men who’d come here before. I could be wrong. What if Deuce sent him here to gain my trust, see if I was loyal?

He moved in closer and tipped my chin up. “Baby girl, talk to me. You aren’t like the others, are you? Girls like you, especially with little babies, don’t live like this. You’re a pretty little thing, look sweet as sugar.”

I licked my lips and glanced away. “If Deuce walks by or sends someone else and they don’t hear us having sex, it won’t end well for me. Just… tell me what you like. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You want to have sex?” he asked.

I gave a slight nod.

“Really? Want a good hard fucking?” He moved in closer, pressing against me.

I swallowed hard and waited. He reached for me, sliding his hand up under my skirt, wedging it between my thighs. He stroked my panties and I tried not to lock up or run.

“You’re not wet. Makes me think you don’t want me after all.”

“No! I… I’m sorry, I’ll do better.”

He backed me against the wall. “Again, start talking, pretty girl. Why are you here? Because I wasn’t patched in yesterday. You’re no fucking club whore.”

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!

“Her characters are phenomenal and have a lot of depth to them. She is absolutely fantastic at writing an engaging sexy story. Harley Wylde keeps the words flowing so that you have to turn the page to see what happens next.”– All Author Interview

Release Blitz: We Cry the Sea by Glenn Quigley #LGBTQ #historicalfantasy @Glennquigley @ninestarpress @GoIndiMarketing

Title: We Cry the Sea

Series: The Moth and Moon, Book Three

Author: Glenn Quigley

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 03/15/2021

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Female/Female

Length: 102500

Genre: Historical Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, Action/adventure, Age-gap, Bears, Bartenders, Established couple, Illness/disease, Over 40, #ownvoices, Pirates, Sailors, Tattoos, Fishermen, Criminals, clockpunk

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 Description

After the explosive events of The Lion Lies Waiting, life has returned to normal for burly fisherman Robin Shipp. That is until the innkeeper of the ancient Moth & Moon approaches him with a surprising proposal, and an unexpected arrival brings some shocking news that sends Robin on a perilous journey alone.

While he’s away, his lover, Edwin, anxiously prepares for the birth of his first child with his friend, Iris. Her wife, Lady Eva, must travel to Blackrabbit Island for a showdown over the future of the family business. Meanwhile, Duncan nurses an injured man back to health but as the two grow close, the island’s new schoolmaster makes his amorous intentions clear.

Robin’s search for answers to the questions that have haunted his entire life will take him away from everyone he knows, across a dangerous ocean, and into the very heart of a floating pirate stronghold. Pushed to his limits, Robin’s one last chance at finding the truth will cost him more than he ever imagined.

Excerpt

We Cry the Sea
Glenn Quigley © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Finding a gull in one’s bathroom has a way of bringing into sharp focus just what massive beasts they truly are. They certainly appear large when harassing people at the seafront, or circling overhead, but coming face to face with one in a domestic setting really shows them in a whole new light. It wasn’t actually using the privy, of course, though its demeanour suggested it could have if it wanted to. Rather, it seemed content to simply sit there and wait out the bad weather.

It wasn’t until Robin Shipp approached that it began to caw and squawk furiously, flapping its wings with an air of indignity, as if protesting at him having the temerity to walk in without first knocking. Which, in all fairness to the gull, he had done, but then it was his lavatory and up till that point he’d never known it to be frequented by any type of wildlife whatsoever.

Despite his name, Robin had little affinity for, or interest in, birds. Especially gulls. He found them pests, for the most part. He was a fisherman and spent more time than he’d like trying to shoo them away from his catch. This one in particular was known to him as the Admiral, one of a pair of seagulls who fought a never-ending battle for supremacy of the harbour. Robin stood there, in the whitewashed room, shouting at the bird to leave for a good five minutes before accepting it wasn’t going to be quite so easy.

He slowly slipped off his woollen overcoat and held it open, advancing as cautiously as his enormous frame would allow, then flung it quickly over the toilet. The gull was not amused, nor was it shy in expressing as much. After some kerfuffle, Robin managed to bundle it up in his coat, fearful the whole time of injuring its wings. He didn’t like gulls, but he’d never be needlessly cruel or violent towards them either.

He wrestled the creature out of the room, across the narrow hall, and into his bedroom. The doors to his balcony were open. The method of admission, he suspected. He shook his coat open and the gull tumbled out, mewing loudly, before plodding to the balcony and flying away into the rain. It looked back to squawk at him one last time. An insult, Robin was certain. He shut the doors and sighed. He was late.

He pulled closed the front door of his tall, thin house and trudged down towards the harbour. He tugged his flat cap low over his eyes though the weather was already beginning to ease. With his meaty thumb, he rubbed the palm of his left hand. Injured the previous year, on the night of the winter solstice, it had never properly healed. His hand was always stiff now, with a deep ache and a white, weblike scar. Rubbing helped as he found it seized up if he neglected it too long, especially in cold weather. He’d been advised by the local doctor to keep rubbing it as often as possible as it kept the blood flowing, or some such.

Robin didn’t really understand the mechanics of it. He’d been eager to resume fishing after the worst of the winter season had passed but quickly discovered his efforts hampered by his injury. He tried to pass it off as a minor inconvenience, but deep down he knew it was serious. He’d been a fisherman all his adult life, and before. He’d started when he was a young boy after his father had died and he couldn’t imagine any other way of living, didn’t want to imagine it, even. The hurricane of the previous summer, just over a year ago, had turned his whole world upside down and while he couldn’t have been happier about it, the upheaval had been daunting. What he craved now more than anything was some peace and quiet.

With his bull neck, jug ears, and hooded eyes, Robin had never considered himself an especially attractive man, so quite what the undeniably handsome Edwin Farriner saw in him, he couldn’t rightly say. Yet there Edwin was, sheltering from the rain against a market hall pillar, waiting for him. He was tall, though not as tall as Robin, in his early forties, so ten years Robin’s junior, with receding and close-shaved ginger hair. His smile never failed to light up Robin’s heart.

“You’re late,” Edwin said. “He won’t be happy.”

“Ho ho! When is ’e ever ’appy?”

The rain stopped and the clouds broke. They stood gazing at the roof of the Moth & Moon, shielding their eyes from the midday sun. Atop the enormous inn, workers hammered nails and sawed wood. A framework was coming together—six sided and spacious enough to comfortably fit ten men. Robin pulled his cap lower and cupped a hand around his mouth.

“Oi! Duncan!” His deep voice carried clear across the little harbour. “Time to eat! Come on!”

From the rooftop, Duncan Hunger waved and began to climb down the many ladders strapped to the rain-slick tiles. The Moth & Moon was expansive and ever-changing. A hunk of wood, glass, and lime wash, which seemed to regularly sprout fresh bay windows, bud whole new rooms, and blossom balconies. Its roof, or rather roofs, rose and fell like the sea—a tiled wave here, a slate swell there—and took some skill to navigate. Duncan grasped one of the numerous chimney stacks and used it to swing himself around to firmer footing. When his boots finally touched the ground, he shook raindrops from his coat.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Only a little!” Robin said. “I ’ad a visit from the Admiral.”

“It’s all well and good for you two to swan up whenever the mood strikes you,” Duncan said, “but some of us have work to be getting on with.”

Robin chuckled again. Duncan’s natural state was irked, and he never needed a particular reason to complain. He cleaned all the lenses in his unique spectacles with a handkerchief. Small, round, and fixed with multiple thin armatures, they were of Duncan’s own design. He was forever fiddling with them, setting first one lens in place and then another. Robin wondered if Duncan would be forced to add even more arms with even more lenses as he grew older. Duncan was Edwin’s age but a couple of heads shorter. He was squat, burly, with wavy black hair, long sideburns, and an expression that indicated he had somewhere more important to be, so if you wanted him to stay, you’d better make it worth his while.

“’Ow’s it goin’?” Robin asked, pointing upwards.

“Slowly,” Duncan said, fixing the spectacles back into place on his button nose. “We should have been finished with the basic frame by now. The others are dragging their heels.”

“Nothing to do with you resetting the wood every ten minutes and telling everyone they’re doing it all wrong?” Edwin asked.

“Whoever could have told you such a thing?” Duncan asked. “It’s a gross exaggeration and a terrible slight on my good name. Can I help it if I’m a perfectionist? I want this new bell tower to stand the test of time, to be…”

Duncan trailed off and pointed out to sea. “That boat’s coming in a bit fast, isn’t it?”

Robin turned and squinted before reaching into the pocket of his long, navy-coloured overcoat from which he produced a battered copper spyglass. He extended it to its full length. The glass was a touch foggy, but it was enough to determine a single occupant at the helm of the lugger.

“Can you see who it is?” Edwin asked.

“No,” Robin said. “I can’t see ’is face. But whoever ’e is, ’e needs to slow down or ’e’ll run aground.”

Robin ambled down to the pier, quickly overtaken by the much sprightlier Edwin and Duncan. All three men frantically waved their arms and shouted, trying to alert the sailor to the danger. The sailboat began to turn, taking it away from the harbour and straight towards the headland. Straight towards the rocks.

With a terrifying crack that landed like a lightning strike, the boat splintered against rocky outcrops, and its occupant was flung into the water. Without a moment’s thought, Robin ditched his cap, overcoat, and jumper. He hopped around, pulling off his boots, before diving into the sea. Edwin followed suit. They splashed about in the choppy waters, unable to find the man.

“Robin!” Duncan said. “Over there! To your right! No, the other way… Starboard, man! Starboard!”

Robin kicked his massive legs furiously to avoid being dashed against the rocks himself. With one deep breath, he dived beneath the surface to search where Duncan had indicated, but there was no sign. Underwater, Edwin was pointing furiously. Robin turned to find the figure of a man floating limply. Together, he and Edwin grabbed the victim and brought him to the surface. Robin’s lungs were burning, and he gasped for air.

Once ashore, they lay the drowning man on his back. He was breathing and coughed up some seawater. Blood poured from his left eye, dying part of his white beard crimson. He was huge, as big as Robin himself. A crowd gathered around them. Robin brushed the man’s lank hair away from the wound.

“Easy, easy,” Robin said. “You’re safe now. What… Wait. Vince?”

“Hello, brother,” Vince said. His usually growling voice was weak and cracked.

“Let’s get him to the inn,” Edwin said.

“No,” Vince said, grabbing firmly onto Robin’s arm. “Too many people.”

“We’ll take you to my ’ouse, then,” Robin said. “It’s not far.”

They loaded Vince onto a borrowed cart and took him up the steep slope of Anchor Rise. He placed one huge arm across Edwin’s shoulders, the other across Robin’s, and together they all sidled through the blue front door of Robin’s home. Scarlet dots gathered on the black and white tiles of the hallway floor as blood dripped from Vince’s eye, yet still he stared at the oil painting on the upstairs landing. Once inside Robin’s front room, they put him by the fireplace and wrapped bandages around his head and leg. They would have to do until Doctor Greenaway could be summoned.

“I didn’t recognise you under all the hair,” Duncan said.

“Haven’t had much chance to get it cut,” Vince said. “Been busy.”

“Too busy to visit us, like you said you would.”

“Here now, aren’t I?”

Edwin handed him a mug of water and Vince sipped it, then pawed at his throat, obviously in some discomfort.

“How did you end up running aground?” Duncan asked.

Vince sipped his drink again but said nothing.

Robin frowned. “Vince? Did you ’ear ’im? What—”

Edwin coughed and placed his hand on Robin’s arm. “Let’s just give him time to get his head clear. He’s obviously had a terrible shock.”

Robin had only met Vince once before, around the same time he’d injured his hand. Before then, he didn’t even know he had a brother. They’d promised to stay in touch, and they did, after a fashion. A couple of short letters had been exchanged but nothing more.

“Well, you can stay ’ere as long as you like, of course,” he said. “My ’ome is your ’ome.”

“How’s he going to manage all those stairs with his leg the way it is?” Duncan asked. “You’d be better off staying with me, I suppose.”

Vince growled something approaching gratitude. “Help me up,” he said.

“You don’t ’ave to go right now,” Robin said, as he once more he let Vince lean on him.

“Hallway,” Vince said.

Robin guided him back out onto the black and white tiles. Vince pointed at the painting upstairs.

“Who’s he?”

“Oh, right, you never met ’im. It’s our dad, Captain Erasmus Shipp,” Robin said. “It were painted a few years before ’e died.”

Vince shook his head. “Can’t be Dad.”

“Why not?”

“Because just this morning, I saw that man in Wolfe-Chase Asylum.”

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Meet the Author

Glenn Quigley is a graphic designer originally from Dublin and now living in Lisburn, Northern Ireland. He creates bear designs for http://www.themoodybear.com. He has been interested in writing since he was a child, as essay writing was the one and only thing he was ever any good at in school. When not writing or designing, he enjoys photography and has recently taken up watercolour painting.

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New Release: Stryker (Salvation’s Bane MC) by Marteeka Karland #mcromance #agegap @marteekakarland @changelingpress

Glitter: Yes, that’s my real name. Born stripper name, I know. I’ve been on my own since I was 14. When I tried to get a job with Salvations Bane MC at their strip club, Salvation’s Angels, their security saw right through my fake ID. Lucky for me, the club sent me to Beach Fit, their fitness club, until I turned 18. Now I work at Angels, and the crowd here loves me. Stryker’s still looking out for me. For some reason he thinks I’m a magnet for trouble. Now that I’ve got his full attention, I know what I want, and I’m going to prove him right.

Stryker: We try our best to keep things at the club legit. Last thing we need is an underage dancer attracting too much attention. OK, so she’s legal now, has been for nearly two years, but that girl’s everything this old man doesn’t need — and can’t afford. But there’s another club encroaching on our territory, setting up a BDSM club on the other side of town, as a front to run drugs. Now I’ve got word there’s even more going on at The Dark than drugs. I was right. And who do I find right in the middle of it but Glitter. Only, she’s not involved with the thugs at The Dark. She’s their prisoner — a sub who has no idea what it means to be a sub, but she thinks she wants to learn.

Challenge issued? Challenge ’effin accepted.

WARNING: This book contains scenes of an intense physical relationship between an older man and a younger woman, as well as extreme, graphic violence. These men aren’t angels and neither are the women. They love as hard as they fight. As always, you can expect a HEA with No Cheating.

Get it Now at Changeling Press

Preorder for March 19th at online booksellers

WHAT ARE REVIEWERS SAYING?

“This age gap story is filled with action packed drama that is going to keep you glued to the pages…” — Merry @ Goodreads

“This book was HOT HOT HOT! The men and women of Bane are awesome!” — mbtoner8 @ BookBub

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland

There was no possible way for Stryker to ignore the little pixie dancer twirling around the pole half naked. He’d been watching her every fucking night she’d worked for a couple of months now, unable to take his focus someplace else. Glitter was not a woman he’d normally pursue. She was too innocent for the likes of him. He’d known it from the moment she plopped herself down in the chair across from his desk and told him her name was Glitter. And that, yes, that was her real name. Laugh at his own peril.

But here he was. Prowling the main room at Salvation’s Angels instead of checking on things over at the Playground. So he could watch Glitter’s set. Or, more accurately, so he could watch Glitter. Period.

The girl haunted his dreams. She wasn’t what one would call a classic beauty, but she had a force of personality that everyone she met loved and wanted to soak up. When she danced on stage, she was a temptress. When she played off stage, she was like a little kitten. Stryker wasn’t normally attracted to the bubbly type, but Glitter was more than just her personality. He had no idea why, but underneath the sex appeal he sensed a vulnerable woman. There were times when Stryker could see her scanning the room when she thought no one was watching and she just looked… tired. Especially when she had to mediate one squabble or another with the girls in the dressing room. It was that vulnerability that fascinated Stryker and made him want Glitter with everything in him.

Well, tonight he was going to have her. He was a patched member of Salvation’s Bane, and she was an employee at Salvation’s Angels. They weren’t supposed to fraternize with each other, but Stryker wasn’t above bending a few rules. Thorn might kick his a** if he found out he’d f**ked the bubbly little dancer, but it would be worth it. And any man who wouldn’t risk the wrath of his president to sample a woman didn’t want to taste her bad enough.

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.

Release Blitz: Starting from the Top by Lane Hayes #rockstar #AgeGap @LaneHayes3 @GoIndiMarketing @ninestarpress

Title: Starting From The Top

Series: Starting From, #5

Author: Lane Hayes

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Release Date: March 8, 2021

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 83k

Genre: Romance, Age Gap, Rock and Roll, Hurt and Comfort, Bisexual, Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis

The guitarist, the dad, and a band on the rise…

Johnny

A quiet place to live and some time to recharge before my band heads out on the road again sounds amazing. I wouldn’t mind a distraction too, but my new neighbor is off-limits. There are rules about not getting involved with your bandmate’s ex, right? And Sean isn’t my type anyway. He’s too bossy, too commanding, and he has way too much baggage. I’ve learned that it’s best to let go of the heavy stuff. So why am I so drawn to him?

Sean

Coming out later in life has taught me to protect my privacy at all costs. And while juggling a handful of businesses and two kids isn’t easy, I excel at the art of multitasking and keeping everything separate. But Johnny blurs those lines. He’s easy-going, sweet-natured, and cool. In short, he’s everything I’m not. I want to know all about him…starting from the top.

Excerpt

The cheery sound of family fun drifted through the house…the dog barking, cupboards closing, and a girlish squeal of delight. And more dog barking.

I chuckled at the chaotic homey cacophony. I would never have envisioned this was Sean’s life. He’d always seemed like a badass boss to me—not a man who’d wear an apron to bake cupcakes with his daughter while his son had a guitar lesson. His chocolate mussed hair and concerned parental frown made him look goofy and yet very…endearing. In a hot dad way.

Okay. Definitely time to go. I reached for the knob just as Sean did.

“I’ll walk you out,” he insisted, holding the door open.

I stepped onto the porch and blinked against the bright afternoon sun at the hilltop view of the city. “Wow. This is nice.”

“Yeah,” he agreed absently. “How was he?”

“Amazing. The next Chuck Berry.”

Sean sighed grumpily. “Less sarcasm, please.”

“Sorry, Dad.” I snickered. “He was great. I mean, he sucked, but I think he had fun. I told him to keep the guitar and practice on his own. If you want me to come back, I will.”

“Really? That’s good.” He stared at the horizon for a moment before glancing my way. “I wanted to—why are you smiling at me?”

“You’re fuckin’ covered in chocolate. It’s in your ear.” I made a face and tugged at my own ear.

He gestured at the apron. “Baking isn’t my thing.”

I flashed a megawatt grin at him. “Sure, it is. Are you decorating those cupcakes with anything besides frosting?”

“Sprinkles. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to crash your family time.”

Sean inclined his head. “So…did he talk to you?”

“It took a little coaxing. Full disclosure…we played video games before we picked up the guitars. You’re not paying me, so I don’t really feel guilty. I just don’t want you to think it was a jam session from the start.”

“I know.”

“You know?” I repeated.

“I snuck in to see how you were doing. Hulk let you down. You might want to go with Iron Man or Captain America next time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I snort-laughed, then sobered. “As for Parker…he’s a good kid. He’s shy, reserved, and likes organization. He seems like the kind of person who excels at things he can control. I bet he builds killer Lego sets. He might learn a few songs, but I doubt he’s a savant. You never know, though. Kids are sponges. They pick up stuff you and I would never catch.”

“That’s true. I’m impressed. And you’re right…about everything. He keeps a lot inside. He’s always been that way. Very thoughtful and methodical. He sets a high bar for himself. He likes to get things right the first time. He does well in school, but he’s struggling with the transition to junior high. His old friends tried out for sports and he opted not to. It’s left him feeling ostracized and alone. Hormones don’t help. I thought it might be good for him to spend time with someone cool who—”

“Cooler than you?”

“Well, let’s not get crazy.” Sean flipped the corner of his apron and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I just…thanks for doing this. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Hey, if he really is interested, we can do this regularly. My schedule is light for the next couple of months, but it’ll get crazy again in late spring.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Text me. I hate phone calls.” I held out my right hand and snatched it away a second later, narrowing my gaze. “You have frosting on your nose.”

“My nose?” He wiped his hand over the apron, then across the tip of his nose. “Did I get it?”

“No. Come here. Let me help you.” I stepped into his space and brushed the sugary goodness away.

“Did you get it?” he asked in a huskier than normal tone.

“Yeah, but it’s on your ear and your chin and…”

“Where else?”

“Here.”

I ran the pad of my thumb under this bottom lip. “Got it.”

I didn’t move. I should have, but something held me in place. I studied his features, noting the flecks in his eyes. I wondered what color they were…gold, green, brown? I traced a line at the corner of his mouth, rubbing the scruff of his neatly-trimmed beard. I stared at his full lips for a long moment before meeting his gaze. Then I inched closer and…kissed him.

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Meet the Author

Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016, 2017, and 2018-2019 Rainbow Awards.

She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a not quite empty nest.

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Arkham/Along Came a Demon by Marteeka Karland #ContemporaryRomance @MarteekaKarland @changelingpress

Bones or Demons, no one messes with our women or they face nasty consequences.

Arkham (Bones MC 5)
Rain — When a team of rough looking men start nosing around the slums of Rockwell, I make it my business to know what they’re up to. One in particular catches my eye. I want him. And when I let him take me, I’ll savor the experience until it’s time to go.

Arkham — The little pixie warrior’s strong and capable but scarred inside and out. I’ll take her to Bones MC, where she’ll be protected. But who’s gonna protect her from me?

Along Came A Demon (Shadow Demons 1) A Bones MC Romance
Merrily has no idea what her father has done, but he’s managed to throw her and little Bellarose into the middle of a mob war. A desperate flight lands her in the arms of Alexei Petrov. The man is everything she knows she can never have, but she wants him with every fiber of her being. Just who are these demons in the night, and why does she welcome this one’s embrace?

Billionaire Alexei Petrov is part of an elite group, The Shadow Demons — Vigilantes hell-bent on protecting their city. Which is how he finds the most desirable women he’s ever seen. One problem. She’s on the run from the mob.

**WARNING** The men of Bones MC and Shadow Demons can be violent, but they’re protective to a fault, and they’ll do whatever they have to, to protect the women they love. If you think you can handle their brand of loving, read on!

Get the paperback at Amazon!

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland
Excerpt from Arkham

“What the fuck are we still doin’ here? We cleared this sector yesterday.” Arkham wasn’t usually one to complain, but this micromanaging shit was for the birds.

“You pay, we come play.” Torpedo was the top man in the field on this mission. He and Arkham took point as they walked down the street. They weren’t in Afghanistan or Tripoli, or Ukraine. They were in a moderately sized city in the good ole U. S. of A. called Rockwell. ExFil had been hired by a group of disgustingly rich hero wannabes to help locate a runaway. Kid had been missing for three days, and his mother, who was a member of the staff of said disgustingly rich hero wannabes, was more than frantic. They insisted the child was in this area of the city. How they knew that he didn’t know, but orders were orders.

“How the fuck do these guys know that kid’s in this part of town?” Goose had been vocal about his protests from the get-go. All of it because of the micromanaging. “We’ve searched high and low. The kid ain’t here.”

“It’s not like we’ve got anything else to do. We’re gettin’ paid by the hour. They want us to look here, we look here.” Shadow was the newest patched member of Bones and probably the most levelheaded and calm person Arkham knew. “We just flex some muscle if we see anything suspicious and be ready to bean someone if they need it.”

“Yeah. Way wide latitude,” Arkham grumbled. “I don’t like this.”

“Cain knows these guys personally,” Torpedo said. “If he says go, we go. We follow orders.”

“Ain’t never been good at following orders.” The back of Arkham’s neck was tingling like a son of a bitch. Never a good sign. “’Specially not from no pretty-boy, badass wannabe.”

“My understanding,” Torpedo explained, “is that these guys are the real deal. Seems Cain served briefly with Azriel Ivanovich. He’s part owner of Argent Tech.”

“The company that makes all those pretty gadgets Data is always forcing us to use? I hate the bastard already.” Arkham wasn’t opposed to technology per se, he just hated being forced into it. “Most of that shit is just used to dumb down the real work. I mean, I can fuckin’ shoot straight and follow a compass. And I don’t need a fuckin’ leash shoved up my ass in the form of one of those fancy GPS things he hardwired into our radios and phones. Hell, even our fuckin’ bikes are tracked. Where’s the end?”

“You’ll have to take that up with Data and Cain.” Torpedo shrugged, his body posture letting Arkham know Torpedo was just as vigilant as he was, even while carrying on the conversation. “I just make sure you use it.”

“Next thing you know he’ll be wantin’ to tag us with some kind of chip under our skin.”

“It’s already being discussed.”

Arkham stopped dead in his tracks. “I will bust a motherfucker up.”

Torpedo looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Gotcha.”

Everyone laughed.

“Motherfucker.”

Though he continued the disgruntled conversation, Arkham was only half paying attention to his brothers. Their actual mission was extremely vague. All they seemed to do was patrol the poorest section of the city and give people mean looks. They’d questioned every single person they saw, but no one had seen the boy. Arkham had no idea if he believed any of them or not.

The streets were mostly dark at night. Though the streetlights were replaced almost daily, by the end of the day they’d all be broken out again. Drug deals routinely went down in rundown buildings in the process of being renovated, though the team from ExFil had stopped some of it during their search. Drug sales continued regardless. Arkham thought Bones more suited to this than ExFil, but their employer had insisted on the paramilitary version. While Bones was the rough and ready MC, ExFil was the more disciplined and civilian accepted military-like organization run by Cain. This city needed the military, not the outlaws. Conditions had seemed to improve somewhat, but there was still a long way to go. Oh, well. Not his turf. Not his problem.

“How the fuck did a place like Argent Tech end up in this shit hole? It’s no bigger than Somerset and has way less to offer. Not to mention at least a third of the city is nothing more than slums. These people certainly don’t benefit from the tech giant.” Shadow had that part right.

“I agree, brother,” Arkham said. “Not sure what our goal here is, but it seems like more of a policing effort than searching for a missing kid. I’m ready to tell ‘em all to shove it up their ass.”

“The point is for us to give Ivanovich and his associates the help they need in locatin’ a missin’ child. And they are tryin’ to better the place.”

“You’re just trying to defend Cain’s decision to take this job, Torpedo,” Arkham groused. “You don’t like it any more than we do. If they’d let us do this our way, we might have found the kid already. That’s what’s pissin’ me off.”

“Ain’t sayin’ you’re right. Ain’t sayin’ you’re wrong. But if you don’t shut the fuck up about it, I will turn Suzie on your ass so quick it will make your head spin. Stunner might have let her use most of the red and green glitter on him, but I know where there’s a whole fuckin’ tub of pink glitter, and I’ll point her in the right direction.”

That got a laugh from everyone. Evan Arkham snorted. “Harsh, brother,” he grumbled.

They passed the next hour in silence. Still, that tingle between Arkham’s shoulder blades persisted. They were being watched. Had been since they’d gotten off the Goddamned plane. “When I find that son of a bitch, Imma throw him a beatin’.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Goose had turned and was facing away from them now, guarding their six as they slowed their trek down the sidewalk.

“Someone’s been watchin’ us since the second we got off the fuckin’ plane.” Arkham tried to watch his area, but he knew the threat was from above. Now that he’d mentioned it, he gave up all pretense of pretending not to be actively seeking their stalker. He raised his gun to the rooftops, putting his infrared goggles in place. Everyone followed his lead.

“I thought I was just being paranoid,” Goose muttered.

“No.” Arkham had learned long ago to listen when that sensation was trying to tell him something.

Just as they rounded the corner, Arkham spotted him. “Got the bastard,” he muttered. “Two o’clock, theater roof. He’s got a rifle scope, but I can’t confirm a weapon.”

“Copy that,” Torpedo said. “Shadow, you and Arkham fall back. See if you can go up the back way and get him from behind. We’ll patrol the alley to the west. If he follows us, should be easy pickin’s for you guys.”

“Radios on,” Arkham ordered. “I’m not losing anyone to a rookie mistake.”

“Got it,” Shadow and Goose confirmed on top of each other.

“Up the east side. And don’t kill him unless he deserves it.”

“He already deserves it for giving me a headache, “Arkham said, readying his rifle.

“Bastard has it coming.” Torpedo didn’t argue. Arkham was a hard ass, but he wouldn’t make a kill unless it was warranted. They all knew it and didn’t insult him by suggesting otherwise.

Shadow was the best partner he could have for a situation like this. The man’s special talent was disappearing into the shadows. Hence his name. Arkham was good, but he let Shadow take the lead on this one. If Arkham was spotted, Shadow would already be in position to defend him. It hurt to admit the big man was better than Arkham at anything, but truth hurts sometimes. Only meant Arkham would be working on that particular skill set even harder.

It took them seven minutes to gain the roof and another one to lay eyes on the target. He was slender, small. A boy? Arkham stayed put for several minutes. Shadow followed his lead, not breaking cover before Arkham gave the word.

The kid followed the perimeter of the roof, never taking his eyes from the team below. If he knew they were light two men, the kid didn’t seem overly concerned. He stopped right next to Arkham. He could have reached out and touched the boy. Two more steps, and he’d run into Arkham. Instead, he stopped, never taking his eye from the scope.

“You’re all clear,” the kid said. “They’ve made a circle around the theater. All four of them. If you’re going to take them, now’s the time.”

Three things registered for Arkham. First, his team was about to be ambushed by an unknown number of hostiles. Second, the kid wasn’t a boy. It was a girl. Third, she was deliberately deceiving whomever she was talking to.

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.

Beast by Harley Wylde #AgeGap #ContemporaryRomance @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

Lyssa — I should have known I’d end up with a biker. Most of my friends sighed over men in suits. Not me. I always liked a bad boy in grease-stained jeans. Probably comes with being raised by a club President. My daddy didn’t raise a fool, but my mother raised a dreamer. And if there’s one thing I’ve dreamt about the last few years, it’s Beast. He’s big. All alpha. But more importantly, the first time I see him in person, the moment our lips touch, I know he’s going to be mine. I might have been the princess of the Dixie Reapers, but I was meant to be his queen.

Beast — A goddess walked into my clubhouse and turned my life upside down… in the best of ways. Just one problem. Well, two. The first is that my little pixie-sized honey isn’t just any woman. Her daddy is the President of another club, and her grandfather is a world-renowned assassin. And secondly, trouble is on her heels. The punk who thinks he can take what’s mine is easily dealt with, but going toe to toe with Torch and Casper VanHorne is enough to leave any man shaking in his boots.

Good thing I’m not just any man. I’m Beast. President of the Reckless Kings MC. And I’m the man who’s going to claim Lyssa, even if I have to knock her up to do it.

WARNING: Beast contains graphic language and adult content, bondage and spanking, some violence, and touches on human trafficking. But if you want an alpha male who earned his name in the bedroom, a guaranteed happily-ever-after, and no cliffhanger, then you’ve come to the right place.

Get it now at Changeling Press

or preorder for February 5th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Harley Wylde

Beast

Brick flashed his phone screen to me with a wide grin. “They look good, don’t they?”

I nodded. What else was there to do? I wasn’t so big an asshole I’d deny his sister any true happiness she could find. I’d wanted it to be with me, but after all she’d been through, she’d needed a clean break and a fresh start. Far the fuck from here.

“Kid looks cute.”

“Yeah, she does. Charlotte keeps calling Jenna her miracle baby.” Brick sighed. “I miss the hell out of her.”

He wasn’t the only one. I understood why Charlotte had left, even gave her my full support. Still hurt like a bitch, watching her taillights fade into the distance, knowing damn well she’d never set foot in this town, or even this state, ever again. She’d lost her baby, and the doctors had said she might not have another. She’d proved them wrong.

“How’s what’s-his-face?” I asked.

Brick snorted. “You don’t like saying his name, do you?”

Nope. Not even a little. Every time Brick showed me pictures of Charlotte and her family, I thought about everything I’d lost the day she’d left. I’d been in love with her since long before I should have noticed her. Didn’t matter. I wasn’t what she needed. In the end, she’d settled in Alaska, found herself a nice, ordinary guy who worked for the National Park Service as a wildlife biologist. The guy made enough to take care of Charlotte and their daughter by legal means, and as much as I wanted to hate the man, he seemed like a decent sort.

Brick sighed. “Rob is doing fine. Got a promotion last week, in fact. Charlotte seemed excited.”

Perfect. “Great! I’m sure Rob is the perfect husband for her, and the best dad ever.”

“Look, brother. I’m sorry Charlotte left. I know you had feelings for her, but she’s in a good place. Rob treats her like a queen, and she’s far away from all the shit the club deals with. The only danger she might face is a fucking bear or wolf. And I mean the animal kind, not the humans we run across who are fucking rabid.”

I knew he was right. Knew it, but didn’t have to like it.

“Fine. She should have moved away from here, from the club. I’m glad she’s safe and loved. I won’t say I’m thrilled she’s gone, but I’m happy for her.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. I really did want her to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. I could do without all the pictures of her new life. Brick liked showing off his sister and her kid, and I accepted it. Just didn’t like it being shoved in my face every damn week.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Brick asked.

Not even close. “Did Torch say what the fuck he wanted?”

“You really haven’t paid attention, have you? It wasn’t Torch who called. It was Venom. The club needs a favor.”

Of course, they did. Everyone wanted something. “What time are they arriving?”

“Any second. Something about wanting to rest tonight, then talk in the morning before they head out first thing.”

“Guess I better drink up.” I finished off my beer and got another. Didn’t have anyone to blame for my shit mood except myself. If I’d made a move on Charlotte sooner, she never would have gotten hurt. She’d have been mine, and I’d like to think we’d have been happy. Hindsight was a bitch.

It was unusual for a club to ask for a favor without giving any details. The Dixie Reapers were a good sort, so I wasn’t worried they’d ask for more than I was willing to give. Even if it was a bit odd. They had clubs they were closer to, even tied to by blood. So why come here? For that matter, why not settle this shit over the phone? It wasn’t exactly a short drive.

The clubhouse doors swung open and light spilled through the doorway, silhouetting a petite woman with curves in all the right fucking places. Hair black as pitch and skin white as snow. Fuck. I sat up a little straighter. Hadn’t seen the likes of her around here before. Maybe today wasn’t such a shit day after all.

She slowly turned her head, taking in the room. When she spotted Brick and me, she sauntered forward, the doors shutting behind her. My eyes adjusted to the dim interior again and I sucked in a breath. A tight black sweater clung to her like a second skin. Ripped denim molded to her shapely legs. The black boots on her feet were tiny but badass. She looked like a biker’s wet dream.

“Dibs,” I murmured, not taking my gaze off her.

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!

Release Blitz: Out in Winter by Lane Hayes #LGBTQ #SportsRomance @LaneHayes3 @GoIndiMarketing

Title: Out in Winter

Series: Out in College, Book 8

Author: Lane Hayes

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Release Date: January 11, 2021

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 32k

Genre: Romance, Bisexual, Friends to Lovers, College romance, Humor, Jock, Age Gap

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Synopsis

The grad student, the jock, and some winter fun…

Drew

My new job at the bistro is fun. The owners are good guys, and the staff is made up primarily of boisterous water polo players. I know nothing about the sport except there’s a Speedo involved, and Liam likes to wear his everywhere. Yes…Liam—the chatty, handsome, utterly charming waiter I can’t seem to stop thinking about. Ugh. Note to self—do not fall for another younger man.

Liam

Getting Drew to notice me hasn’t been easy. He’s a little intense, and he knows how to keep his distance. Something tells me he’s not immune—he’s just stubborn. Maybe a weekend of bonding on the ski slopes will win him over. And if I can get him to come out in winter, I might be able to convince him that we have a chance at something special.

Out in Winter is a low-angst MM, bisexual romance starring an oh so serious grad student, a goofball water polo player, and a little winter magic. This story is part of the Out in College series, but each book can be read as a stand-alone.

Excerpt

The stunning winter wonderland panorama was dotted with impossibly tall evergreens flocked with snow and the pristine hills glistening in the morning sun. It was so quiet, I could almost imagine we were alone in the world. That was precisely the kind of thought that freaked me out sometimes. But not today. Today the idea seemed…promising. Maybe even cleansing, like a new start.

“It’s beautiful,” I said reverently.

“This is one of the reasons I like coming out here early. The light is so brilliant. It looks like a postcard or the photo in the dictionary next to the word ‘hope.’ ”

“That’s a nice thought.”

We shared a smile; then he adjusted his goggles and inclined his head meaningfully. “Ready?”

“Yeah, but…you go first.”

“C’mere.” Liam crooked his finger.

I shuffled forward until I stood beside him with our skis pointing in the opposite direction, expecting him to impart some advice about the terrain or maybe remind me how to stop. Both might have been helpful, actually.

“What is it?”

“Hold on to my sleeve. Stay still. That’s perfect.” He stroked my chin before leaning in to press his lips to mine. “You taste like cherry ChapStick. I like.”

I grinned. “Thanks. So do you.”

He kissed me again, twisting his tongue with mine and leaving me breathless. “Mmm. I’m making it my personal quest to make sure you get down this mountain safely and that you have fun doing it.”

“Good luck with that,” I sighed, aware that my voice had taken on a dreamy quality.

“I don’t need luck. I’m an expert,” he bragged playfully. “I’m going to give you a couple of tips. Listen up.”

“I’m listening.”

“Bend your knees and stay loose.”

“Like this?” I bent my knees and wiggled my arms like a rubber band.

Liam chuckled. “Something like that. We’re gonna take it slow, moving from side to side, making wide turns. I’ll go first. Follow me and remember to keep your gaze forward.”

“As opposed to?”

“Looking at your skis. You don’t look at your feet when you’re walking, so don’t look at your skis when you’re skiing. It’ll fuck with your balance. Ready?”

“Yeah.” I licked my lips and nodded.

Liam glided smoothly down the incline, veering sharply to the right. He stopped with a flourish, sending a plume of powdery snow skyward before raising his poles triumphantly. I snickered at the silly display. He made it seem fun and relatively easy. All right, then. I could do this.

I grasped my poles in a vise grip and dug into the snow, propelling myself forward. I aimed my skis in Liam’s general direction and honestly, it felt pretty damn good. I was in control, a cool breeze on my face, and a light wind at my back. Best of all, I appeared to be closing in on my correct destination. A hot guy was waiting for me in front of a huge pine tree with—

Oh, fuck.

I couldn’t stop. I picked up speed and barreled forward, trying to remember his advice. Knees bent. Check. Don’t look at your skis. Check. Stay loose…

Nope. Not possible.

I was wound so tight my head felt like it might pop off. Every muscle in my body was rigid as I zoomed closer to Liam…and the tree. It occurred to me as my life began to flash in front of my eyes that if I turned downhill, I could avoid the tree and move in the right direction. I might not have control of my skis, but Liam seemed to know what he was doing. No doubt he’d catch up easily and offer tips on how not to kill myself along the way. A comical vision of him doing circles around me while I tumbled into a giant snowball flashed in my head.

And that might have been when things went sideways.

Purchase at Amazon

Meet the Author

Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016, 2017, and 2018-2019 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a not quite empty nest.

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