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TEASER TUESDAY: Atlas (Iron Tzars MC) by Marteeka Karland #mcromance #agegap #suspense @marteekakarland @RABTBookTours @changelingpress

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Iron Tzars MC, Book 4

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: May 12, 2023

 

 

Bellarose — My drive to my new job didn’t go as planned. Me and my
“photographic memory” got lost, ending up on a private road in
the middle of Nowhere, Indiana. Worse, I got a flat. And it was getting
dark. When a dangerous, sexy biker stops to help, I’m not sure if
I’m fortunate or not. Double that when I find myself mashed against
said dangerous, sexy biker with him kissing me like he wants to devour me.
Then things get really weird.

Atlas — I’m in so much trouble. Not only in the girl in my care the
most enchanting woman I’ve ever encountered, she’s the daughter
of one of the richest men in the world who happens to also be one third of
the Shadow Demons. Which means, that kiss I stole might have signed my death
warrant. Every instinct I have is telling me I need to call in my brothers
to get her out and end the operation I’ve been deeply embedded in for
months. But my little hellion has other ideas. I just hope we haven’t
waited too long. If I have, we’re both dead.

WARNING: Graphic violence, adult situations, and references to human
trafficking and domestic abuse that may be triggers for some readers. Happy
ending and, as always, no cheating.

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Marteeka Karland

 

Atlas

What a fucking mess. This fucking club in Terre Haute was rotten to the
fucking core. I knew enough about it to make it implode with all the secret
deals going on inside, but I hadn’t been given the go ahead from
Sting, our president. Iron Tzars was an old MC, dating back to World War II.
Back then, they’d been off-the-radar Nazi hunters. Meaning, they
killed any they found and didn’t ask permission from anyone to do it.
Now we hunt down pedophiles and human trafficking rings. Occasionally we
infiltrate domestic terrorist organizations, but most of those are on the
government radar, and we let the FBI and ATF do their thing. This bunch,
however…

They were as sadistic a bunch as I’d ever seen. Not only did they
have their hands into the obligatory guns and drugs, the women and girls
they took weren’t trafficked. Oh no. They kept them. Used them. It had
put me in a tenuous position because I couldn’t keep my cover at the
expense of innocents. With the help of my brothers at Iron Tzars, I’d
managed to pull all of the underaged girls out — there weren’t many,
thank God. There were two other women still in the compound. One was happy
to be there. Said so herself as she took one man after another with a smile
on her face. The other one… wasn’t in good enough shape to
express her wishes.

That had been two months ago. Nothing had changed except I’d gotten
the leader of this bunch to leave the unwilling woman alone. It
wouldn’t last long, though. The willing woman was fast becoming an
unwilling woman. Which meant I’d run out of time.

I drove down the road back to the compound. The bike I was on was an older
chopper, but it was still a Harley, if heavily customized. It wasn’t
my own bike, but I tried to still treat it with respect. The meeting
I’d just had, the plans being put into action, had me on the extreme
edge. Which was likely why I nearly missed the woman crouched on her knees
beside a new-model Ford on the side of the road.

I swerved, and I thought I heard her scream. Pulling over to the side of
the road, I looked back over my shoulder. She was flat on her ass, gasping
for breath. When she glanced in my direction, she scrambled to her feet and
snagged the tire iron next to the car, holding it like a baseball bat.

With a scowl, I turned the bike around and drove the hundred feet or so
back to her car before stopping and shutting it off.

“Did I hit you?” Despite my worries, I never wanted to hurt an
innocent. The mere fact I hadn’t seen her until I was right on top of
her showed how distracted I’d been. A mistake like that could get me
killed in this fucking club.

“I — I…”

“Come on, girl! Are you hurt?” I snarled the question like a
demand. Which it was. She took a step backward and rounded the back of the
vehicle, putting the car between me and her.

“Don’t come any closer! I know how to use this!”

I couldn’t help but snort. “That thing probably weighs more
than you do. Now, tell me if I hit you with the bike, li’l
bit.”

She shook her head slightly. “No.”

I glanced at the driver’s-side rear tire. Sure enough, it was flat.
“Do you need help?” Again, she shook her head but didn’t
relax one bit. I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my beard. I didn’t need
this. Not now. “Look. We got off on the wrong foot. I shouldn’t
have snarled at you. I didn’t think I’d hit you, but even if
I’d clipped you, you could have been hurt. It scared me as much as I
scared you. Now. Are you sure you’re OK?” I tried to soften my
tone when it wasn’t my nature. Women usually looked at my size, tats,
beard, and muscles and ran straight into my arms, begging for a hard
fucking. I had no interest in any woman who didn’t.

“I’m fine.”

I barked out a laugh. “I hate it when women do that, girl.
You’re not fine. I scared you to death.”

“It’s all right. You said it scared you too.” Her voice
was soft and lyrical, wrapping around my insides like silken ties. What the
fuck was wrong with me? I wasn’t hard up for female companionship. In
fact, until I’d been planted in this fucking club, I’d had a
different woman practically every night. More than one sometimes. Now, a
little bit of timid innocence was burrowing inside me within a few seconds?
Fuck…

“Not the point.” I raised my open hands in a non-threatening
gesture. “At least let me change your tire. Can I come
closer?”

Finally, she lowered the tire iron slowly. “I suppose so. If
you’re sure you don’t mind.” She was so small I had doubts
she could hold the damned thing for much longer anyway.

“I don’t mind at all. It’s the least I can do for nearly
running you over. Besides, I don’t leave women alone to fend for
themselves. No matter how much they don’t trust me.” I’d
meant the last to be a small joke. To lighten the mood. Because the fear on
her face in the fading light hit me viscerally. I didn’t like her
thinking I’d hurt her or meant her ill will. That was the last thing I
wanted after what I’d been through the last few months.

“I appreciate the help.”

I knelt by the car, positioning the jack properly before inserting the jack
handle and cranking to raise the car. “What are you doing on this
road? It’s pretty out of the way. Not many folks live around
here.” Because the club I was currently embedded in kept everyone out
of their territory through terror and destruction.

“I got turned around,” she said as she squatted beside me,
holding the lug wrench at the ready. “I realized I was in the wrong
place when the road went from four lanes to two. I don’t remember
passing another road, but I might have missed it.”

“Where you headed?”

 

 

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.

Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on BookBub

Author on Instagram

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter:
@changelingpress

 

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TEASER TUESDAY: How Not to Date a Dragon Master by Stephanie Burke #LGBTQ #ParanormalRomance #DarkFantasy @changelingpress @FlashyCat @RABTBookTours

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Dark Fantasy, LGBTQ, Paranormal Romance

Date Published: May 5, 2023

 

War is upon them — armies are clashing at their doorstep. Ulvissar’s
heat is becoming uncontrollable, and tension between him and Nithe is higher
than ever before.

With his Dragon Lord and her new mate leading his warriors, will Ulvissar
be able to destroy those who would betray them, and will Nithe be strong
enough to claim both the title of Dragon Master and his Ulvissar? How can
anyone withstand the wrath of an angry omega dragon?

 

Publisher’s Warning: How Not To Date a Dragon Master contains scenes of
graphic violence and adult kink with blood play that may be triggers for
some readers.

 

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Stephanie Burke

 

The wind blew bitter cold on the overcast early morning when Prince Ranid
the Bold and his army rolled into town, and it matched the attitude of the
people. The few men who were left in the ranks watched the bedraggled and
exhausted inhabitants stagger toward their town’s entrance, while the
sounds of their war horses’ shoes loudly striking the dirt-covered
cobblestones encouraged a lone hound to throw back its head and howl
mournfully at the still present moon.

The few lights glowed enough to illuminate the remains of a once prosperous
town now fallen into ruin. A lone, sickly-looking goat bleated as it
wandered through, its dented bell clanking miserably in the night air while
a lone owl hooted in the distance.

The place smelled of neglect and misuse. Most of the buildings that
surrounded the courtyard and what looked to be the center of town appeared
derelict, missing windows, wood siding sliding off of their sides, paint so
old and weatherworn that it looked like it hadn’t been refreshed in
years.

Prince Ranid the Bold, on his once proud white steed, stood up in the
stirrups and declared for all to hear, “What a fucking
dump.”

“Well, fuck you too, asshole!” a drunk leaning on a pole
outside of the town’s only tavern called out. “Fuck you and the
horse you rode in on.”

That gave the whole army pause before a tall, black-haired, green-eyed
man’s laugh barked out, startling the few who wore his bright red
colors before they began to chuckle as well.

“What?” The green-eyed Prince Colton of Rinastas called to the
other disgusted prince’s soldiers. “Out here with no resources
but what little nature has left, you expected to find a lavish palace fit
for your royal ass?” He shook his head, amusement plain in every line
of his body. “This is war, boy. No one is going to be around to hold
your hand or wipe Your Highness’s backside for you. The people who
live in this area make do with what they have.”

“And who do these people hold loyalty to?” Prince Ranid
demanded, settling back into his saddle, his face slightly red because yes,
he expected some sort of accommodation for the royals at least. He
didn’t expect this place to be so… desolate.

“I believe they pay a once a year tax to the people of the Eastern
Kingdoms — the missing princess’s kingdom — and then they are
largely left alone. This is dragon territory after all,” Prince Colton
explained. “No one has a real hold on it but because part of it
scrapes against the princess’s kingdom, it is to her people that these
hard-working individuals pay their taxes and what little tribute they can
give.”

“No way.” Ranid rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and pouting
like a child as he absorbed what Colton was telling him. “The kingdom
renowned for its beauty wouldn’t let a place like this exist and
tarnish their good name. This is a disgrace.”

From beside him on his own warhorse, Lord Petyr of The Eastern Kingdoms
shook his head in embarrassment. How had he ever found the loud, obnoxious,
and abrasive prince beautiful? Things had cooled significantly since he
started seeking his own privacy and comfort in the bold red tent that Prince
Colton had lent him. Sure, he was no longer in the man’s bed but
anyone would think about waiting a full five minutes before another filled
Petyr’s former position there. And Petyr knew from personal experience
that when Ranid was distracted or angry, the whole act would take about five
minutes… from start to finish.

“If you say so.” Colton snickered to himself, unwilling to
engage the spoiled brat of a prince in any type of intellectual debate. As
far as this asshole was concerned, if something wasn’t up to his
ridiculous standards, then he would most likely dismiss it, and Colton was
not up for this kind of stupidity. He could be back at his tent getting some
shut-eye after a long and tedious… in every way imaginable…
campaign march. He was tired, his ass hurt for all the wrong reasons, and
now his head was starting to hurt as well from listening to the bitching and
griping of the brat prince. The only amusement he’d found during this
whole rush to an ass kicking was the delightfully sarcastic Lord
Petyr.

The man was pretty, though his downcast eyes and guilty expression
detracted from that somewhat. The man did know his mind though, and only
consented to be abused a short time before, with some encouraging words, he
struck out on his own. He was intelligent and sharp as he offered several
pride-protecting alternatives to the idiot prince as they traveled that
would allow him to pull out of his stupid march and still save face.
Colton’s favorite idea was to just play this was an inspection and
introduction tour to see what changes needed to be made before they reported
back to the King of the Eastern Lands.

Of course, Rancid the Bol — Ranid… Ranid the Bold ignored every
idea offered and was hellbent on completing his quest no matter the cost. So
far, he’d managed to lose a few tents, a few of his soldiers deserted
because of the insanity that they were surrounded by, diseases was starting
to run rampant through his men — the sexually transmitted kind of course,
because at this point the prince had more camp followers that loyal soldiers
— and he was losing the best aide-de-camp that Colton had ever seen.

Filled with righteous indignation, Ranid dismounted his tired horse with a
huff and led the poor beast to what appeared to be an inn and tethered him
to the post out front.

Petyr and Colton also dismounted and followed the upstart prince inside.
They stepped into the dim light allowed by the open shutters of what
appeared to be windows with some kind of glass. The rough wooden floors were
dusty. Goodness knows how everything in this town was not covered in dust,
but it looked like someone had tried to sweep it relatively clean. Several
long wooden bench-style tables sat in rows on either side of the room, the
bar along the back wall blocking access to what had to be a small kitchen in
the back.

“You call this place an inn?” Rancid was already ranting at a
disinterested woman who was slowly wiping down a battered bar with a dirty
rag.

“That’s what the sign used to say.” She snorted, rolling
her eyes and dropping the rag to the floor.

“Used to,” Ranid snarled, leaning on the bar… only to
jerk his hand back as it encountered what had to be the remains of
someone’s greasy dinner… or a body fluid. Who could tell?

“Used to.” The woman walked over to stand before him, her hefty
body covered in a stained smock, her arms crossed over her chest as she
stuck out her chin in an aggressive manner. “That’s what I said.
Are you fucking deaf or something?”

“Do you know who I am?” He bent closer to growl in her
face.

“No.” She leaned forward as well, growling back in his face.
“And I really don’t give a fuck who you are. Do you want
something or are you wasting my time?”

“I am the prince of your kingdom and I demand respect.”

“No,” the woman shook her head, a sardonic look spreading
across her face. “Our kingdom doesn’t have any princes, unless
you count the assholes that the princesses are supposed to marry. And you
didn’t demand my respect, you demanded my utmost attention and
you’re not worth my time… which you aren’t going to
get.”

 

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.

 

Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter:
@changelingpress

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TEASER TUESDAY: Arcane Deception by Angela Knight #DarkFantasy #BDSM @RABTBookTours @AngelaKnight @changelingpress

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Dark Fantasy & BDSM

Date Published: April 21, 2023

 

 

When her grandfather wanders off, witch Kate Marshall enlists a handsome
neighbor to help find Eli, who suffers from dementia. She doesn’t know
Mark Delaney is a magic-using undercover agent trying to bring down a gang
of drug dealers with deadly spirit animals.

Soon Mark and Kate find themselves falling in love, even as he wrestles
with lying to the woman he’s fallen for. Unfortunately, the gang lord
is having them watched, so Mark can’t come clean.

When the gang lord kidnaps Eli and Kate to force her to collude in his
crimes, she must trust Mark to help them escape, despite his lies, the risk
to her heart and the threat to her beloved grandfather’s life.

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2023 Angela Knight

 

Kate Marshall hurried along the path as fast as she dared, scanning the
surrounding woods for a flash of white hair. Anxiety coiled in a sick knot
in her belly. Good thing it was late spring. If it had been winter,
she’d have to worry he’d forgotten the way home and succumbed to
hypothermia.

No sign of him. Nothing but squirrels rustling through the leaves as
courting birds sung from the pines, oaks, and maples looming around
her.

Dammit, where is he?

Kate stopped in her tracks, closed her eyes, and scanned again, but nothing
glowed behind her closed eyes. No sign of Eli Riley’s Talent shining
through the trees. Except…

Wait. Not a glow, but something. She concentrated, focusing until the sense
of power grew more acute. It seemed to be emanating from the lake.

Her eyes flew open, and she took off in long strides just short of a run.
“Granddad? Granddad, where are you? You’re scaring
me!”

Some days, Eli seemed just like the man who’d raised her during those
idyllic childhood summers, endlessly wise, skilled in art and magic and the
intersection where the two met. On bad days, he became a six-foot
three-year-old, prone toward tantrums and violent outbursts. Even worse was
the lethal combination of his raw magical ability and his failing memory,
which could easily kill him if he made an error with a spell. Which was why
she’d panicked when she’d woke up this morning to find him
gone.

Eli hadn’t been in the studio crafting something fatal, though his
backpack of magical gear was missing. She’d searched the rest of the
old Victorian house and its extravagant garden, but no luck.

What worried her most was the lake. Her childhood summer haunt was less
than a mile away from the house. Way too close for comfort.

He can swim. Hell, he taught me. But what if…

Flickering light flashed through the trees ahead — sunlight glinting off
the water. The sense of power was stronger now. Splashes sounded, suggesting
someone swimming.

Or drowning. Her heart shot into her throat.

“Granddad, dammit!” Kate broke into a sprint, ignoring the thin
branches that whipped across her face. “Granddad!” I can’t
lose him too. She burst from the trees. “Granddad!”

But when she spotted the swimmer, it was not her grandfather. Not with the
long blond hair slicked around broad, bare shoulders that gleamed in the
morning sunlight. The man stopped swimming and turned, treading water,
wiping a big hand down his dripping face. “I’m sorry,
what?”

“Have you seen an old man?”

“No, nothing but couple of deer and about a dozen squirrels.”
He started back to the shore, muscular arms stroking the water, sending
droplets flying through the arc of a rainbow. “What’s the
problem?”

“My grandfather… He’s got dementia. I woke up this
morning to find him gone. He comes out here to paint.” Kate raked both
hands through her brunette hair, absently plucking out leaves and twigs from
her heedless run. “Oh God, he could be anywhere. The road — he could
have been hit by a car. Sometimes he doesn’t remember to check before
he crosses…” She started to turn away.

“Hang on, let me get dressed and I’ll help you look.” He
waded out of the lake, water streaming down a body like a gladiator’s,
all hard, carved muscle. He wore only a pair of black swim trunks and a
glowing golden tattoo in the center of his chest, a circle surrounded by
sigils. Looked like some kind of protective spell. And he was big, easily
six-one. On any other day in any other situation, she’d have
drooled.

“Where do you live?” He walked over to a pile of neatly folded
clothes. Picking up a towel, he started drying off, muscle flexing in his
broad chest.

“In the Victorian a mile that way.” She jerked a thumb over her
shoulder and looked away, trying not to ogle.

“Oh, you must mean Eli. I didn’t know he’d gotten that
bad.” He pulled on faded jeans despite his wet trunks, then shrugged
on an equally faded black T and stuffed his bare feet into running shoes.
The shirt’s white lettering read “USAC Academy.”

He was Arcane Corps. No wonder he radiated so much power, she’d felt
it a quarter mile away. Kate was tempted to close her eyes and check the
glow of his magic, but that would be rude.

He extended a hand, a frown of concern on his face. “Mark Delaney.
I’m so sorry about your grandmother.”

A spasm of pain stabbed her, but she forced a tight smile as his long
fingers enfolded hers. His skin felt calloused and cool. “Thank you.
I’m Kate Marshall.” She studied that tough, intensely masculine
face. Beard stubble roughened his square jaw and broad, cleft chin, blond
brows slashing over Feral gold eyes. It was hard to tell, but she thought
his hair would be honey blond when it dried. His lips were thin and
masculine, but they looked soft, kissable. Tempting, despite the
nerve-wracking situation she was in.

After a carefully calibrated squeeze, he let her go. “Don’t
freak out, I’m going to manifest so I can track him. I’m a
Feral.” Golden light exploded around him as his magic became visible
in a flare of sparks and whirling energy. A heartbeat later, it coalesced
into a huge shaggy figure with a long bullet-shaped head and foot-wide paws.
The raw power of the animal spirit beat at Kate’s senses as it towered
over her, almost ten feet tall. Mark was only dimly visible in its center,
cocooned within it like a man in armor.

 

 

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.

 

Contact Links

Facebook: @AngelaKnight2002

Twitter: @AngelaKnight

 

 

Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress

 

 

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SPOTLIGHT: Doc (Salvation’s Bane MC) by Marteeka Karland #mcromance #agegap #suspense @marteekakarland @changelingpress

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Doc (Salvation’s Bane MC) by Marteeka Karland

Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland
Genres/Themes: Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Talia — Helping one of my students out of a bad situation shouldn’t have been a life altering event. But the second Doc meets us in nothing but jeans and motorcycle boots, I know I’ll never look at any other man the same way. I knew Caroline’s father was sexy, but he’s a well-established physician in the community as well as a member of Salvation’s Bane MC. As the daughter of Grim Road MC’s president, I know that’s a line I can’t cross. All I can do is look from afar. Maybe it’s time to break some rules…

Doc — When my daughter Caroline shows up in a beat-up Ford, I’m prepared to have me a little chat with some boy who needs a lesson. Instead, an angel emerges from the driver’s side, and I’m a goner. Of course, life is never that easy. The girl is the daughter of an MC in the area that flies under the radar. Grim Road MC is even more secretive than Salvation’s Bane. Whatever they do must be dangerous, because the next thing I know, her Dad is telling me to make her my ol’ lady. And my wife. Good thing I’ve already decided to do both.

WARNING: Graphic violence, adult situations, and references to human trafficking and domestic abuse that may be triggers for some readers. Happy ending and no cheating, as always.

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or Preorder for April 14 from your favorite bookseller

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2023 Marteeka Karland

Fifteen minutes later, Chucky still hadn’t answered her text, and Linnie hadn’t answered mine. Not surprising, since Trix took every phone I gave her and pawned them. Linnie had a burner phone for emergencies, but if she wasn’t in trouble, she might not even have it on.

“I swear to God, Trix, if something has happened to Linnie…”

“She’s fine, Jude,” Trix snapped at me. But her brows were knitted together, and she was calling Chucky over and over. Apparently it was going straight to voicemail.

“Dad!” Linnie called out to me from the parking lot. I hadn’t noticed her right away because the car she got out of wasn’t the car she was supposed to be getting out of. Instead of the sleek red Mercedes I knew Chucky usually drove, she got out of a light blue Taurus. Car had to be at least fifteen years old. Judging by the slight trail of smoke coming from under the hood, the poor thing had had it.

Relief flooded me, but I did my best not to let it show. Instead, I lifted my hand and waved to my daughter, plastering a big welcoming smile on my face. “Hey, sweet Caroline!” There you go, Trix. She wanted me to use Linnie’s given name? I hoped she never got the song out of her head.

Linnie ran around the front of the car to the driver’s side. She appeared to be begging the person driving to get out of the car. I was prepared for some sixteen- or seventeen-year-old punk wanting to date my daughter. It was bound to happen sooner or later, though I’d hoped she’d be at least forty when it did. What I wasn’t prepared for was the slender beauty who stood and allowed Linnie to snag her hand and lead her toward me. Wasn’t expecting this. If this was Linnie’s girlfriend, I was so fucking fucked, because I was sure it was bad form for a man to lust after his daughter’s girlfriend.

The woman was young. Probably barely out of her teens, if that. She had long, jet-black hair that hung down her back in tight spirals, shimmering with bluish-silver highlights in the sun. The breeze blowing off the sea made all that shining silk blow to one side and whip around her body with every sudden gust. Her skin was pale, a sharp contrast to the gleaming ebony hair. She wore pink shorts with large yellow flowers on them and a short-sleeved white T-shirt. The same flower in pink was inlaid with a smaller, identical flower in yellow. Definitely one of Linnie’s friends, romantic or otherwise. Which meant I needed to look the fuck away. Because, no matter how young she looked or dressed, something in me noticed the woman beneath. Even if she was trying to hide that woman.

“Dad! Dad!” Linnie waved as she tried to run with her friend in our direction. The woman with her, however, refused to follow Linnie’s lead willingly. She looked reluctant as hell to come near us. Every now and then, her gaze fell on me, and she’d immediately look away. Kept coming back to me, though. Like she couldn’t decide whether or not to be afraid of me. “I want you to meet my teacher.”

That got my attention. This lovely young woman was most certainly not Janet Wankum. Which made me wonder exactly how old this girl was. If she were Linnie’s teacher wouldn’t she be at least eighteen? No. Not necessarily. This was a private music class. This could be another student further along than Linnie helping out Ms. Wankum. I couldn’t help but let my gaze sweep over the girl again in a more thorough perusal. Thank God for sunglasses. Surprisingly, I recognized her. Should have by the hair, but she always kept it in a bun at the base of her skull. Though I hadn’t known she was a teacher, I knew she was a stellar musician. I remembered seeing her play various instruments from the piano to the guitar and violin. Thought she played the flute too, but I wasn’t sure. What I hadn’t realized at the time was how stunningly lovely she really was.

Yep. She was luscious, her eyes a gleaming silver that seemed to look into a man’s soul. Her body was slender yet filled out to perfection. Her breasts were small, but with her compact body and finely muscled thighs, she gave the appearance of someone athletic. Maybe that of a delicate ballerina. Not a musician.

“This is Talia. Her dad’s in an MC too.”

I’d seen her with the younger kids, helping them with all the patience of a woman twice her age. I’d caught her staring at me more than once, but she never approached me or gave me the indication she was anything other than afraid of me. I also thought I knew her father. Which probably explained her trepidation. If she lived in a biker compound, she’d be wary of another MC member.

“Rocket? From Grim Road?”

Her lips parted in surprise, and her pale gaze met mine briefly before she lowered her eyes submissively. Goddamn if my cock didn’t give a jerk.

“Yes,” she said with a quick nod. “Rocket is my dad. You know him?”

“I do. Good man. Leads his club well.”

“Of course, you know

that outlaw,” Trix spat. “He’s a thug, and that girl is as bad as he is. She’s trying to steal Janet’s students.” Trix lunged for Linnie, trying to pull her away from Talia. My daughter gave her mother an impatient look and shrugged her off.

“Mom, Ms. Janet asked Talia to help. She has more students than she can handle but doesn’t want to drop anyone. Since Talia is the most advanced of any of us, she helps. Ms. Janet has us two days a month and so does Talia.”

“I’m not paying for this little… tramp to sit back and play on her phone while you have another practice session.” Trix nearly spat the word “tramp.” “You can practice at home, Caroline. From now on, you’ll let me know what days you’re supposed to be with Janet, and those are the days you’ll go.”

Caroline looked like her mother had slapped her. “Mom! I can’t believe you said that! Besides, I know Dad’s the one paying for my lessons, because he gives me money for them every week I’m with him.” She stepped away from Beatrix and snagged Talia’s hand again. The older girl tried to twist free, but Linnie was having none of it. “Talia is a wonderful teacher. Even Ms. Janet says so.” Linnie looked at me with pleading eyes. “Daddy, Talia’s not like Mom says.”

“It’s all right, Caroline.” Talia spoke softly, patting Linnie on the shoulder and gently tugging her hand away. “Not everyone understands my dad or our way of life. I’m used to it.”

The girl turned to go, but Caroline was persistent. “Please don’t go yet, Talia. You promised to eat dinner with us. Remember?”

“I said I’d think about it.” She glanced at her watch. It wasn’t a fancy watch like the kind that connects to your phone, but one that looked vintage grandma. Tiny face. Elastic metal band. “I’m sorry, but I really need to go.” To say Talia looked supremely uncomfortable was an understatement. She wouldn’t look at Beatrix at all and only cast furtive glances my way. Mostly she had her head down.

“Daddy?” Linnie gave me a pleading look, like she thought I had the power to keep her friend with us. When my little girl gave me that look, there was no denying her. Good idea or not.

“It’s all right, Talia. Trix was just leaving. You’re more than welcome to join Linnie and me for supper.”

God help me, the girl’s head snapped up, and she looked at me with wide, startled eyes before glancing at Trix again and lowering her gaze. “I’m sorry. But I really can’t. I was supposed to go straight home. I’ll be in trouble as it is.”

“I’ll make things right with your dad, but tell me why you disobeyed him? Did Linnie ask you to bring her here?” I wanted Trix to hear this. Whatever it was. Because, again, I already knew the answer. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

“No. She didn’t ask. And don’t worry about my dad. I’ll be in trouble, but I know the rules. I’ll tell him what happened and let him be the judge of if I was right or wrong.”

“Lia…” I deliberately shortened her name, making it intimate so she’d look up at me again. It worked, though I thought I might fall to my knees the second her gaze locked with mine. The girl was stunningly lovely and so Goddamned innocent I knew I was going to hell for all the dirty thoughts I’d have about her tonight. “Who asked you to bring Linnie to me at the beach?”

“Mr. Rothschild, sir.”

Fuuuuuuck.

ABOUT MARTEEKA KARLAND

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.

Find her online: Website | Facebook | BookBub

NEW RELEASE: Mate to the Mermen by Ashlynn Monroe #Fantasy #PNR @ashlynn_monroe @changelingpress

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Mate for the Mermen by Ashlynn Monroe
Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

Daisy Daniels never expected her temp job cleaning for three hunks on a private island would lead to romance. She clearly hasn’t been watching enough reality TV. Falling in love with one, let alone all three of the Watersons, would be complicated enough without the burden of protecting their secret. Ocean, Bayou, and River aren’t just celebrity treasure hunters, they’re mermen.

Protecting the secret of her lovers is more challenging than Daisy ever imagined, almost as challenging as learning to cook without the help of the internet. Still, her life with the Triad would be perfect if River’s father, the King of Atlantis, didn’t hate her, and if Kai, the Prince of the Aegeans, wasn’t constantly causing trouble.

When karaoke night reveals Daisy has gift she has a lot more to think about than the laundry. Saving the world was never in the job description. How can she risk using her newfound gift when she could harm the three people she loves most?

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Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2023 Ashlynn Monroe

River swore under his breath. He hadn’t expected his father to show up. The old man’s timing couldn’t have been worse. In the upheaval of the last twenty-four hours, they’d missed an important call about a dive. That job couldn’t have come at a ghastlier time. They needed the footage, but the wreck wasn’t in Aegean-controlled currents. When they’d decided to dive it, they’d had no idea how complicated their lives would become. He turned to Daisy. “This is my father, King Delta, the ruler of Atlantis.” He returned his attention to his father. “Father, this is Daisy. She’s my Triad’s mate.”

Father snorted a rude, almost dismissive, sound. “A human?” Father spoke out loud, but in Atlantean. “Why are you so intent on destroying my faith that you’ll rule? I have given you time to come to your senses, but I’m starting to lose patience.”

River bristled. He replied in English. “I will not allow you to disrespect my mate.”

Daisy put her hand on River’s arm. “It’s okay.”

He could see the compassion in her beautiful brown eyes. “No, it’s not.” River put his arm around Daisy. Ocean and Bayou moved to stand at his side.

King Delta sighed. “I see you and your Triad are in agreement,” he continued in Atlantean, excluding Daisy.

“We are,” River said. “Triad always.”

“The seal must be found.” Father glared at Daisy a moment before turning his attention back to River. “I can’t believe you were so weak as to allow that pathetic excuse for a male to come into your home and take what belongs to our kingdom.” He glanced at Ocean and Bayou. “For all your talk of Triad, they’ve done nothing to help you protect our legacy.” He pinned River with an intense look filled with authority and anger. “River, you and you alone were entrusted with the seal as my way to ensure you remembered your responsibilities. Instead, you have mated with a human and let Prince Kai walk away with a national treasure. What do you have to say for yourself?”

River’s throat tightened. Even as ridiculous as his father looked standing on land in nothing but a cape, he still bore his position with an aura of power. He could still make River feel like nothing with a glance. If he tried to explain that Daisy would have died if he’d gone after the artifact, would his father relent? Probably not. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“Sorry will not get the seal back. Sorry will not change the fact you tied your soul to a frail human. What are you going to do, my son?” Father crossed his arms over his chest.

“We will help River get the seal back,” Ocean assured the king.

Father’s brow creased as he regarded Ocean with disgust. “I was not talking to you, traitor.”

River scowled. “Ocean would give his life for me and for our kingdom. He is not a traitor.”

King Delta turned to Bayou. “And did you want the human too, monster? Couldn’t you have talked sense into your prince? You know how easily the vulnerable are destroyed. You know how weak a human is, and yet you would allow your prince to tie you all to one female’s short life?”

Bayou glared at the king. “She has the strength of a Triad now.”

Few would have had the courage to do the same. River’s throat tightened.

“You are all pathetic!” The king growled, shaking his fist at River. “If the law allowed me to give the throne to your sister, I would. If you do not regain the seal, I’ll have my army drag those criminals you bonded with to the deepest, darkest prison in Atlantis. I’ll make sure they stay alive, but in hellish misery.”

Ocean and Bayou both stiffened. River looked away, unable to meet the anger and shame Father directed at him. “Father, please, don’t say such things. Daisy is human and you might disapprove of my decision to form our Triad but doing that would be beneath you. A king should never seek personal vengeance. You’ve told me that many times.”

His father took a step closer to him. He raised his fist. “You dare –”

Daisy stepped closer to the king. “I don’t know what you’re saying to them but chill out.”

King Delta turned his attention away from River to glare at Daisy. “Chill out?” he parroted in heavily accented English.

“Yes,” she said. “Chill. These are amazing men, and your tone is clear no matter what language you’re speaking. They don’t deserve a lecture. This is their home. If you can’t be respectful, maybe you should leave.”

River, Ocean, and Bayou inhaled sharply in unison. No one had ever dared tell King Delta to leave before now.

“I will not do this chill out! Fool human! You are of weak thoughts. You give yourself to these males, but they are little fish. Weak fish.” King Delta’s chin rose as he narrowed his eyes at Daisy.

“Let me assure you, there’s nothing little about these fish.” Daisy rolled her eyes and a small chuckle escaped. She looked to River, and he could see love in her gaze. “They are strong and brave.”

The king’s guard wore heavy tunics that fell to their knees. River was glad for Daisy’s sake that they were mostly covered as the large men approached her. Bayou was the first to make a protective move toward Daisy. The guards, knowing full well how easily Bayou could destroy their minds with gift, all stopped.

Daisy glared at the king of Atlantis, causing River to catch his breath in fear for her. “Who’s the little fish now? You need all these big guys to protect you from a human woman’s words?”

The king gave a derisive snort, but he held his hand up to stay his guard. In Atlantean he said, “Don’t bother with this unarmed human. She’s no threat to us.” Then he looked at Daisy and returned to speaking English. “Your tongue is sharp, female. But in water you have no protection from my wrath. Stay dry, woman of my son’s Triad, for under the waves my anger is great.” He turned, his cape billowing dramatically, then motioned for his guard to follow. His entourage tripped over themselves in their haste.

River was quiet as he watched them go. Bayou had moved to put his arm around Daisy. When they were gone Daisy turned to look at her Triad. She tilted her head to the side as her brow furrowed. “What? Why are you all so pale?”

Bayou stepped back to scowl at her. He started to pace. “That was fucking stupid. If you see River’s father again, keep your mouth shut.”

Daisy sucked in a sharp breath. Her lips pursed angrily, and her gaze shifted on Bayou with wrath. River put his arm around her, tugging her close. He picked up her long brown braid and tickled her nose with it. Her soft, sensual giggles broke the tension. When she looked up into his face, he had to kiss her. His lips caught hers and his kiss was hungry, needy.

No one else had ever spoken up for him like she had. She’d had no idea just how dangerous her actions were, but that blind need to protect his heart fed his need to be close to her. When he broke the kiss, he put his cheek on the top of her head. “Brave and foolish. You’re perfect for us.”

About the Author

Ashlynn Monroe is a busy working mom. She loves her kids and family. Her greatest joy is creating stories to entertain others, and she hopes they bring a little more romance into the world. She’s been writing since her teens for her own enjoyment but decided in her thirties to share her imagination with readers. Ashlynn enjoys biking, camping, reading, video games, and filling her home and life with love. If she’s not working or chasing children, you can find her daydreaming up her next tale of romance.

 Author Website/Blog |  Amazon Author Central |  Author Facebook  | Author Twitter

RELEASE BLITZ: Second Chance Omegas by Will Okati #LGBTQ #PNR #UrbanFantasy @changelingpress @GoIndiMarketing

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Title: Second Chance Omegas

Author: Will Okati

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: March 24

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 394 pages

Genre: Romance, New Adult, Action Adventure, Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy, Gay, Second Chances, Sex/Gender Shifters & MPreg

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Synopsis

Second Chance — a small town where anything can happen — and it usually does.

Only You: Once upon a time a teenaged Alpha fell in love with a pretty Omega from the wrong side of the tracks. Zachary was everything Alex wanted — sweet, sassy, and sexy as hell. Alex would have married that boy if Zachary hadn’t run. When the secrets they’ve been keeping come to light, will they shatter their bond for keeps, or bring them together in a forever kind of love?

Yes, You Are: Everyone assumed petite Darian would be an Omega, and big, athletic Coby would be an Alpha. When they met as teenagers, they had no reason to doubt that was who they’d be. But everyone was wrong. Opposites attract like lightning and steel rods when they meet again in Second Chance, but do they have what it takes to overcome the unexpected for the long haul?

Come for You: Gabriel, a dreamer and a librarian, is so shy and introverted that he’s still a virgin Omega at twenty-five — but he can’t help wishing for a fairy-tale Prince Charming. Meet captivating quarryman Alpha Wynn. For them, it’s love at first sight. But the happy ending is harder to come by. Who will rescue who?

Take You There: Ethan teaches music at the university. He’s not looking for Mr. Right, just Mr. Right Now. A quick, dirty alley encounter should have satisfied him. But now Ethan can’t get Blue out of his mind. The smoldering musician who caught Blue’s eye and what they did in the alley, should have been enough. Until Ethan finds him. And then, everything changes. Again.

Excerpt

Copyright ©2023 Will Okati
Excerpt from Only You

“Coffee, sir?”

“As much of it as you can fit in a cup. No cream but double the sugar. Please.”

The train attendant shook his head, but with a smile and a finger briefly pressed to his lips as he passed over not one but two Styrofoam cups filled to the brim. He was an Omega too, in his mid-thirties by the look of him, and he wore a black jet widower’s ring instead of a wedding band. Things weren’t much easier for the widowed than the unmated or separated. He understood.

Zach took a grateful gulp, not caring that the coffee was hot enough to scald his throat, and asked, “How far behind schedule are we?” Stretching his legs at the next station would do him good; they ached when he stayed still for too long.

“About half an hour, at this point.”

Wishing wouldn’t make the wheels turn faster, but with nothing to look at outside in the dark, Zach adjusted his position so he could get a better view of the passengers in his car. Like most Omegas, he wasn’t very tall. Some new folks had gotten on and others disembarked while he’d dozed, and he liked wondering what their stories were. Two young Alphas who acted like frat bros; interesting, they weren’t the usual size for Alphas, but small and compact and they weren’t at each other’s throats but laughed and joked like best friends. A couple that had to be recently married from the way they could barely resist climbing all over each other; an Omega with a contented smile, probably on his way back home, and —

Oh.

Oh, God.

Zach’s heart jumped into his throat and wedged stuck there even around the burn of his beverage. Three rows ahead, dark wheat-blond hair and a profile almost as familiar as his own turned to smile at the attendant as he refused their offer of coffee. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, he hadn’t seen that profile since he was eighteen, but —
He’d changed — well, he’d grown up, the way everyone did, the bones of his face maturing from soft boyish cuteness to strong, masculine definition. A short beard, trimmed and shaped, that suited his strong, stubborn jaw. The kind of casual suit that would have cost the equivalent of a month’s rent in Manhattan. Elegant hands with sturdy knuckles and deft fingers, and a smile that lit up the train.

He did and didn’t look a thing like the boy Zach remembered but it was, it was, it was him.

Alex.

Zach would have known him anywhere, even if he’d shaved his head and started scowling instead of smiling. If he closed his eyes, he could feel those hands on the bare skin of memory. After all, you never forgot your first.

“I love you. And I know you love me too.”

He should stop staring. Alex would sense it any second now, and he might look around, and —

His gaze drifted back up, drawn like a moth to a flame.

Alex. Oh, Alex.

Zach’s body twitched with the first pangs of arousal, wanting what he’d had once upon a time. He remembered it all, and he remembered it perfectly. He dreamed about it, when he slept. The taste of Alex’s skin, the softness and hardness of his mouth and how his eagerness had nearly rubbed the insides of Zach’s thighs raw. The fullness, almost too much and too tight, when he slid inside Zach.

“I love you. And I know you love me too.”

Anger slowly took alarm and unhappiness’s place – anger, and frustration with himself. Zach should have sensed this train was to be avoided. Dodged. Something! And Alex, sitting there as if he didn’t have a care in the world – it was everything Zach had wanted for him, the entire reason he’d left Alex in the first place, but seeing it in the flesh opened all those old wounds back up and made them bleed afresh. The pain from that moment of saying no to what Alex had offered with all his big, warm heart cut sharper than any knife – but he’d had to. You didn’t do that to your first boyfriend, did you? Take him up on a marriage proprosal and tie him down to a shitty life based on a few promises made in the afterglow?

He’d done the right thing by saying no, leaving, and giving Alex his freedom. Zach knew that. Was sure of it. Even if none of that had ever made him feel any better about it.

They must have been traveling farther and faster than Zach had realized, or he was more out of it than he’d known. Between one blink and the next the train’s PA system crackled to far-too-loud life again, announcing they’d reach their next station at Second Chance in ten minutes. Second Chance? What kind of name was that for a town?

Alex looked up at the speaker, nodded in an absent sort of way, and stood to open the overhead compartment. He took out a bulging messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder and stuffed a pair of thick gloves and a warm knit hat in the pockets of his coat. This would be his stop.

Zach caught his lip between his teeth, torn between – it was pure foolishness, the idea of going to him — and sanity, staying right where he was.

Let it go.

Zach would have, really he would. But as Alex walked past him – always so eager to do things, that one; he would start heading for the exits before the train had even come to a halt — he only made it two steps past Zach’s seat before he stopped. As Zach’s heart sank down past the pit of his stomach he saw Alex pause, then turn to look back.

He stopped, just like Zach had, blank with surprise. “Do I know you?”

Zach held his breath. Could he lie? Yes, but this new, matured Alex would have the life experience not to believe him, and he hadn’t changed nearly as much as Alex had. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“I do know you. I know your face,” Alex said. His voice had matured with the rest of him as he aged, going from sweet to firm with a raspy vocal fry on the edges. “Zach?”

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Meet the Author

Will Okati (formerly known as Willa) has lived through a few Interesting Times, but come out the other side a little grayer, a little wiser, and ready to get writing. Still as passionate about coffee, cats, and crafts as ever, but knowing that to your own self you must be true. Also still one of the quiet ones to watch out for, but life — like storytelling — is always a work in progress.

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SPOTLIGHT & GIVEAWAY: Alan (Devoted Guardians MC 3) by Harley Wylde & Jessica Coulter Smith #mcromance #shifters @changelingpress

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Jolene – My life wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t have any real complaints — until something went horribly wrong and one of my potions blew up, killing my husband. Raising our son on my own hasn’t been easy. Grief and guilt keep getting in my way. But a certain biker keeps stopping by to lend a helping hand. Is it wrong I wish he’d do more than fix my porch steps?

Alan – I knew Jolene was mine, even when she belonged to someone else. Now that she’s single, I might have a chance. I can’t rush this, though. Not after what she’s been through. Not till I’m sure she’s ready. I’ll take my time, build a friendship with her, then lay all my cards on the table. Only one problem. I didn’t count on traffickers hitting our little town. Everything’s gone sideways. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my new family safe, even if I have to get my hands dirty.

WARNING: This is a Dixie Reapers Shifter MC story and contains bad language, violence, and adult situations. Recommended for adult readers 18+.

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ABOUT HARLEY WYLDE

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.

ABOUT JESSICA COULTER SMITH

Award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith has been in love with the written word since she was a child writing her first stories in crayon. Today she’s a multi-published author of over seventy-five novellas and novels. Romance is an integral part of her world and she firmly believes that love will find you at the right time, even if Mr. Right is literally out of this world.

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SPOTLIGHT: Embracing the Demon by AJ Graham #PNR #DarkFantasy #LGBTQ

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Love is always a gamble, but when you bargain with a demon the deck’s stacked in his favor.

Demon’s Bargain (Embracing the Demon 1): Ella is desperate. A vicious dragon stalks her people. The only man strong enough to defeat it is Vaz, the half-demon outcast — banished long ago for his tainted blood. Ella soon learns just how potent a demon’s touch can be.

Living with a Demon (Embracing the Demon 2): When Nate answered a personals ad, he wasn’t looking for romance. But now he knows Pierce is the man for him… even when he finds out Pierce is something more than human.

Playing Games (Embracing the Demon 3): Nate adores his demon lover, Pierce. But lately, Pierce has been distant and preoccupied, and it’s driving Nate crazy. Awakening Pierce’s possessive instincts is a dangerous game to play… but to Nate, the danger just makes it more tempting.

Escaping Darkside (Embracing the Demon 4): After he’s killed in a hit and run accident, Christian wakes up in Darkside — the demon-infested world between life and death. If he can reach door back to Earth, Christian will have a second chance at life. But going back will mean leaving Seth behind forever… and Christian is falling in love with his demon.

Get the ebook from Changeling Press or the paperback from Amazon

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 AJ Graham
Excerpt from Escaping Darkside

Christian woke face down on the ground, head throbbing. A smell like garbage and sewer water filled his nose, and hard, gritty pavement pressed against his cheek. He opened his eyes to find himself lying in a narrow alley between two brick buildings, next to a row of overflowing trashcans.

Christian stood, staggered, and leaned against the nearby wall. What had happened? Had he been mugged? A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he swayed. He must have hit his head. Maybe that was why he couldn’t remember anything. When the world finally stopped spinning, he began to walk.

Run-down, brick buildings lined the narrow street, and fragments of broken glass glittered on the pavement. It looked like one of the bad parts of Chicago, but it wasn’t a neighborhood he recognized.

He heard a low, faint moan, like distant wind, and froze. The back of his neck prickled and he slowly turned.

Four red-cloaked figures stood in the street, motionless. Hoods covered their heads and shadow hid their faces. Goose bumps rose on Christian’s flesh. “Um… hello.”

No reply. One figure stretched out an arm and curled a long, bony finger in beckoning.

Christian swallowed, hard. His heart rose into his throat as fear slammed into his gut like a fist. He took a shaky step backward, then turned and ran, feet pounding the pavement, breath coming in frantic gulps. He looked over his shoulder and saw them following — not running, but floating several inches above the road, their red cloaks billowing behind them.

What the hell was going on?

He kept running, but he could sense the things getting closer, closing in on him. An icy hand curled around his arm, the fingers brittle and thin, yet strong as iron. Cold filled his chest, as if that skeletal hand had reached into his body to grip his heart. He looked into the darkness beneath the thing’s hood and saw the glint of eyes. A weird clicking, chattering noise drifted from that darkness.

Christian twisted away. “Let me go!” He yanked his arm free. His skin still burned where the thing had touched him.

He ran, ignoring the throbbing stitch in his side and the burn in his lungs. There was nothing left in his mind but the desperate need to get away. He ran until his legs gave out, and he sank to his hands and knees, gulping air, each breath like nettles scraping his raw lungs. He looked over his shoulder, shaking. The red-cloaked figures were nowhere in sight. Somehow, he’d lost them.

He crawled to the side of the street and hid behind a Dumpster, hugging his knees to his chest. He looked down at his arm, where the thing had grabbed him. Its grip had left ugly, black burn marks on his skin, and the marks writhed like something alive. Just looking at them made him nauseous. He pulled his sleeve over the burn, hiding it, then leaned back against the brick wall and closed his eyes. His muscles felt like overcooked noodles, but somehow, he managed to drag himself to his feet and resume walking.

Ahead, a row of motorcycles stood next to a low, windowless building with black cement walls. Even from a distance, Christian could hear the pulse of a bass-beat. A dance club?

Whatever it was, he needed to get inside. He ran toward the building, flung open the door, and entered. A blast of warm air and sound hit him. After the eerie silence of the street, the sudden din of music and voices was overwhelming. The club was dimly lit, smoky, and packed. Music thumped in his ears. Christian squeezed through the crush of bodies, his gaze darting back and forth. Sweaty shirts surrounded him wherever he turned.

“Ow! Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry. I –” Christian looked up and his jaw dropped. The thing staring down at him had the body of a weightlifter, but from the neck up, it resembled a cross between a bull and a lion, with curved black horns, a shaggy mane, and sharp fangs. “What are you staring at?” growled a deep, rough voice.

“S-sorry,” Christian stammered and backed away.

Had he stumbled into some sort of costume party? No, that hadn’t been a mask. He’d seen its mouth move.

He stepped on something that felt like a rope and heard a snarl. He looked down to see a long, furry tail pull away, and something with three horns and four eyes glared at him. Christian stumbled backward.

Breathing hard, he made his way through the crowd. He spotted a silver-haired girl in black leather. Relieved to see someone relatively normal-looking, Christian grabbed her arm. She looked at him. Her eyes were huge, almond-shaped, and completely black, without whites or irises. “Excuse me, Miss, I’m sorry, but could you tell me…”

She opened her mouth, revealing inch-long fangs where her canine teeth should have been, and hissed like a cat. He backed off. His head swiveled back and forth. Everywhere he looked was a creature out of a nightmare. There stood a man with a wriggling mass of tentacles where his mouth should have been. Across from him loomed another man with the head of a hawk and four feathery arms.

A hand grabbed his arm and twisted him around. He found himself staring up into a face that was almost human, except it was black — not brown, but licorice black — and topped by a pair of small, spiral horns protruding from crimson hair. The man dragged Christian through the crowd, out the door, into the cool night. He shoved his face into Christian’s, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here? You’re not from Darkside.”

“I don’t even know how I got here. What is this place?”

His lip curled in an unpleasant expression that was half-grin, half-sneer, revealing tiny, sharp fangs. “You’re from Earth, huh?”

“Earth? You mean we’re not on Earth?”

“Oh boy, are you in for a rude awakening.” Sharp claws dug into the meat of Christian’s arm, making him squirm. “There’s bound to be a fat reward on your head. The Council doesn’t like it when souls slip through their grasp.”

Breathing hard, Christian tried to pry the sausage-thick, dark fingers from his arm. “Let go!”

“Oh no. You’re not getting away so easily.”

ABOUT AJ GRAHAM

AJ Graham has a passion for cold weather, unusual beers, and anything otherworldly.  Dragons, demons, shapeshifters and psychics have always populated their imagination, but sometimes the real world can be just as fascinating and mysterious.  And no matter the genre, AJ has always loved stories about soulmates connecting.  Whether it’s instant, explosive passion or a slow burn, the power of two (or more) minds and bodies coming together to form a greater whole is always a story worth telling.  AJ lives in the Chicago suburbs with their husband.

Spotlight: Maid for the Mermen (Mermen 1) by Ashlynn Monroe #PNR #UrbanFantasy @ashlynn_monroe

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Couch surfing and temp jobs were a way of life for Daisy Daniels after she aged out of the foster care system. She’s always taken life one day at a time and gone with the flow. What she never expected is that flow would lead her down a raging current of uncertainty about her life and the world she knows.

River, Ocean, and Bayou Waterson need someone to keep their island home neat and tidy, but they have a problem. They can’t trust any old cleaning service. They need to find someone who will be willing to overlook their differences. What they never expected was to find a live-in maid they would all love.

When Daisy discovers the celebrity treasure hunters are really mermen, will she be able to keep her head above water? An ancient prophecy brings danger to their doorstep. Forces she never imagined are conspiring to destroy everything that matters to her. The only thing that can save her is a bond she can’t break. Saving the world definitely wasn’t in the job description.

Available from Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Ashlynn Monroe

Daisy had slept — more like tossed and turned — at Sally’s the previous night. It felt weird leaving her vehicle behind at the harbor, the rusty hunk of junk being her most valuable possession. She’d been told to bring a bag in case this worked out and she could spend the night settling in. Everything she owned fit into a large suitcase and overnight bag, so she decided to bring it all. After grabbing her pillow, she looked at the small pile on the ground. So little to show for twenty-one years of life. It caused a wave of melancholy to wash over her while locking the car.

She’d looked for the boat called Siren. It didn’t take long. The huge thing was no boat. This was a yacht. “Wow,” she muttered to herself.

“Do you like her?” a male said from behind her.

Daisy jumped, but she didn’t look to see who’d asked. “It’s pretty. I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“Are you Daisy Daniels?”

When she heard her name, she turned. Her mouth went dry. She’d seen an episode of his TV show with Sally here and there, but she’d always been more interested in playing with her phone than the program. She vaguely recognized this guy as one of the hotties Sally drooled over. He wasn’t just TV pretty. This guy was hot. A total hunk. His long black hair, casually tied back in a ponytail, made her a bit envious. He had a black goatee and eyes so brown they could have been black. His skin, tanned, and his upper body, powerful. His arms looked like they belonged to a body builder. She opened her mouth, at a loss for words.

He grinned, as if amused. “You do realize this job is on an island. The only way off and on is by boat. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

Mort’s had already replaced her with another temp. She needed this job. Nodding, Daisy dropped her overnight bag and stuck out her hand. “I’m up for it.”

“River Waterson.” He shook her hand firmly.

Daisy picked up her bag. She couldn’t help wondering if it was actually his name or a stage name for his reality show.

“Let me take something for you,” River offered. He gave her a tight smile.

“You don’t have to do that, Mr. Waterson. It’s not heavy.” Years of having things stolen made Daisy nervous to hand off her belongings.

“Don’t worry, I won’t run off with it.” He held out his hand. “And please, it’s River. Three Mr. Watersons could get a bit confusing.”

Daisy nodded. Wanting to seem cooperative and make a good impression, she reluctantly let him take the handle of her suitcase. He rolled it behind him as they approached the boat.

They walked to the dock and then up a wobbly metal ramp. Daisy took hold of the railing, feeling a little woozy.

“Careful. You’ll need to get those sea legs if we all agree you’re a good fit,” River said.

Worry nibbled at the back of her mind. His words reminded her this wasn’t a sure thing, but an interview. Whatever happened, she’d just have to figure things out. Silently, she cursed Sally’s idea. It wasn’t as if Daisy qualified as maid material. These guys would probably see that. At least Sally would be obligated to let Daisy crash at her place.

“Do you have time left on a lease somewhere?” River asked.

Daisy mentally cursed. She still wasn’t totally sure how to frame her lack of permanent address, so she didn’t sound flighty. And was this guy some kind of mind reader or just super perceptive?

ABOUT ASHLYNN MONROE

Ashlynn Monroe is a busy working mom. She loves her kids and family. Her greatest joy is creating stories to entertain others, and she hopes they bring a little more romance into the world. She’s been writing since her teens for her own enjoyment but decided in her thirties to share her imagination with readers. Ashlynn enjoys biking, camping, reading, video games, and filling her home and life with love. If she’s not working or chasing children, you can find her daydreaming up her next tale of romance.

Find her online: Goodreads | Amazon | Facebook

RELEASE BLITZ: Rhyme of Longing by Emily Carrington #LGBTQ #PNR @CarringtonEmily @GoIndiMarketing

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Title: Rhyme of Longing

Series: Jack and Gil #1

Author: Emikly Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: February 17, 2022

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 169 pages

Genre: Romance, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Suspense, Urban Fantasy, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay, Multicultural & Interracial, Shapeshifters

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Synopsis

Gilbert Sullivan hates his name, but refuses to go by Gil because of a rhyme he fears is a prophecy. When he meets Jack Sowerby, the new head of SearchLight, he’s terrified the rhyme will come true and he’ll lose his place as Crown Prince of the basilisks, but his attraction to Jack won’t let him stay away.

Jack, born human, is, above all things, practical. Still, when he meets Prince Gilbert, his need for the prince blossoms and he’s unable to resist — at least until he’s forcibly changed into a magical creature. He’s terrified of the new world he’s entering. When Gilbert tries to fight the rhyme, will their shattered relationship ever be restored?

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2023 Emily Carrington

Jack wanted so badly to be done with this night that he felt uncomfortable in his skin. That was not the proper way to begin thinking about his sixty-eighth birthday, his five-year anniversary as the head of SearchLight Academy. This was a party for both those things but no one said “no” to Agent Weinberg.

Not necessarily the most powerful magical being in the world, she was still the head of the entire organization. Even though she held the nominal title of “head of Public Relations,” SearchLight’s whole reason for existing was to protect the relationship between magical and nonmagical peoples. Which was, of course, officially, no relationship at all. SearchLight was a secret and must remain so.

The influence she held would make most magical creatures bow in submission. Jack, being merely human, was suitably impressed. And although as yet not cowed, he was too fond of his life to waste it needlessly. Not that Agent Weinberg had killed anyone. Recently.

Jack took a deep breath in through his nose as the limousine pulled up to the curb. He’d been commanded to take this limo and the implicit service of a driver, and although he hadn’t enjoyed it particularly, he was glad that he hadn’t needed to find a place to park in downtown Washington, DC. So, unsure if he was supposed to tip the driver but wanting to show his appreciation, he stepped around to the driver’s side after the car was parked at the curb and offered the person behind the wheel, whom, his telepathic sense, told him wasn’t human, ten dollars.

“Would you be trying to bribe me to take you home, Agent Sowerby?”

Jack saw the humor in the green eyes turned up to his and smiled. “Never in life,” he told the Irish-sounding sprite or Faery or leprechaun. Damn, sometimes he wished for a werewolf’s sense of smell so he’d know the magical creatures around him at once.

“You’re a good man, Agent Sowerby. Don’t let her bully you now.” And with that, he winked and rolled up his window. Jack stepped around the car to the sidewalk and watched the limo drive away.

“Hey there.” The voice was soft, lightly accented, and full of a syrupy, sarcastic undertone that put Jack’s hackles up. He turned more slowly than he could have, wanting to appear older and so less threatening. He gazed at the three people facing him and saw they were all armed.

He was aware of others watching from the doorway of the restaurant but knew they wouldn’t intercede unless it became obvious he couldn’t handle himself. That was one thing about Agent Weinberg he didn’t like much. She believed in the “sink or swim” philosophy.

The woman who’d spoken was smiling in a particularly condescending way. “Got a handout for me?” She twirled the knife in her right hand as she reached out with her left for the ten spot Jack still held.

Jack offered it, keeping a good distance from her, forcing her to step forward to take the bill. He was aware of the other two moving to flank him. He disliked using his telepathic sense against what he considered to be defenseless people, magical or mundane, and yet he wouldn’t risk his own life to preserve theirs. “I suggest you take this and be on your way,” he said softly, putting a slight psychic push into the words. He blanketed the area with his calming presence, lacking the ability to focus on more than two people at once. Both of the men who’d been flanking him stopped. One of them shook his head but the other was definitely under Jack’s control.

“Back off,” Jack said and watched the woman lower her knife a little.

She snatched at the bill and her knife hand flicked upward.

Jack dropped the ten spot and caught her wrist. The knife’s blade skidded across the waterproof material of his trench coat. He forced her to drop the knife as he said, “Go away.”

The man under his control turned and fled. But the other lunged at Jack. Yanking the woman close, Jack used her as a shield. The other man’s blade slid between her ribs. He swore, stumbling back, and lost his grip on his knife. As he turned to flee, Jack lowered the woman to the ground. He shouted, “Someone call nine-one-one.”

Someone joined him out on the sidewalk. It wasn’t Agent Weinberg. It wasn’t a SearchLight agent he knew. There was regal bearing in the other’s posture as he crouched beside Jack. “Let me heal her.”

Jack didn’t protest, although he did skate his telepathic sense outward to determine if this was a magical creature. The fact that he’d said “heal” rather than “help” argued for him not being human. He came into contact with an impenetrable psychic wall and winced as his telepathic sense bounced off. Well, there weren’t all that many humans who could resist even his most casual reach. Ergo, this was a magical creature.

Jack nodded and said, “Go ahead.” He retreated inside his own head and as he pulled out his cell phone, unwilling to trust to others to call for help, he watched the broad-shouldered male beside him spit into his hand and press the palm against the wound even as he pulled the knife free.

Dragon, Jack thought. Dragons could heal with their saliva or a blood exchange. But this wasn’t a dragon Jack knew.

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Meet the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender erotica. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires.

Fantasy creatures not your thing? Emily has also created a contemporary romance world, called Sticks and Stones, where she explores being “different” in a small town.

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