A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance

Dixie Reapers MC, Book 20

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: March 29, 2024

Ares – My life hasn’t always been kittens and rainbows. I spent
years as a captive, so when someone breaks into the compound and threatens
my little siblings, I go with the kidnappers instead. I’ve survived
being enslaved before, but the little ones wouldn’t make it. I can
only hope the club will find me in time.

Prophet – I’ve been patiently waiting for Ares to not only be
old enough for me to date her, but also for her to be ready. But I waited
too f**king long, and now she’s been taken. The bastard who has her is
going to pay, and once she’s back in my arms, I’m never letting
her go again.

WARNING: Prophet is intended for readers 18+ due to adult content, darker
themes, language, and violence. While it can be read as a stand-alone, you
may enjoy the story more if you read Joker first.

EXCERPT

Ares

Times had changed. The Dixie Reapers’ clubhouse no longer boasted
loud parties and naked women. Well, the naked women were gone, at any rate.
Music pulsed from the speakers as everyone took a much-needed break. My dad
had been in Church off and on since this mess started, and more often than
not, the members hung out in the clubhouse discussing the issue at hand.
Except right now, the doors were open to anyone.

I sat at the bar with a soda. Portia sat on one side of me and
Venom’s youngest, Dawson, was on my other side. Patched members lined
the bar on either side of them.

“Pass me a beer, Ares,” Bull shouted from farther down. I
reached over the counter into the ice chest, then slid the longneck down the
bar top. I caught a smirk from my father as he watched.

“Hey, Pres. Think your girl has a future as a bartender,” Bull
said. He chuckled and twisted the top off. “She’s got good
aim.”

“Better than Foster’s aim last week,” I shot back, a
playful jab at his son’s appalling shooting during target practice. He
snorted and took a swallow of his beer, while Foster shot me a glare.

This place was my home. Dad and the Dixie Reapers had been my salvation,
pulling me from the abyss with hands as rough as the life they led. Even
though I couldn’t be a patched member, I was a Reaper’s kid. My
dad had given me permission to get the club colors inked on my shoulder
blade. It was a super small one compared to the ones the guys here had.
I’d seen quite a few with the colors covering their entire backs. In
addition, I’d gotten a phoenix rising from the ashes inked on the
outside of my right thigh — a mirror of my own rebirth.

Foster might be mad at me right now, but I knew he’d get over it. In
a lot of ways, he was like a brother to me. All of the kids here close to my
age felt like family. Although, Foster, Owen, and Dawson were all older than
me. Not that I could tell when it came to Foster.

Cowboy’s son, Jackson, entered the clubhouse, his cowboy boots
thudding against the wood floor as he came closer. He put his arms around me
and hugged me from behind.

“You smell like horses and dirt.”

“Mom always said it was the best scent in the world.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. Yeah, I could see his mother
saying that. “Well, it’s better than sweat, I guess. Preparing
for your next rodeo?”

“I was planning to head out in the morning, but with everything going
on…”

I tipped my head back to look up at him. “You should go. If you put
your life on hold every time something bad happens around here, you’ll
never get to do the one thing you love most.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Yeah, I know. You’re awfully
smart for someone so young.”

“You’re only six years older than me, Jackson. It’s not
like you’re ancient.”

“In rodeo years, I’m over a decade older than you.”

I really did laugh that time. “Is that like dog years or
something?”

“Close enough. Hand me a beer. I’m going to go with Akira.
She’s in the corner with her nose in a book again.”

I reached over for another longneck and passed it to him. He patted my
shoulder before wandering off. I watched him, noticing he hadn’t lied.
Akira, Wraith’s daughter, really did have a book in front of her face.
From the cover, no one would realize she was reading smut. If her parents
had any idea of the types of books she bought, they’d both have a
fit.

I sipped on my soda and just soaked up the atmosphere. My friends and
family were all talking or laughing. Despite everything going on outside the
club gates, they seemed at peace in this particular moment. Happy. I hoped
things could stay like this. I didn’t want anyone here to suffer the
way I had.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Tank said, approaching
with a smile on his face. “Ares Black, quiet as a church
mouse.”

I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. “Just soaking it all in. Some
days, I don’t remember how blessed I am, until we’re all
together like this. Family. Friendship. As long as we have those, we can
weather any storm.”

“Damn straight.” He clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“We’re always in your corner, Ares.”

“Same here,” I replied. It wasn’t just words — it was a
promise. We were the Dixie Reapers, and we protected our own with the
ferocity of a mother bear defending her cubs. I might not be a member of the
club itself, but as the President’s daughter, these people were still
my family, and I’d die to keep them safe.

I glanced at my watch and stood. Joker wanted Cleo to feel welcome here,
and while I wasn’t quite ready to be friends with the woman, I also
knew what it was like to be the outsider. I’d promised to head over
and play a board game. Instead of driving, I decided to walk. The fresh air
would be nice, and it would give me time to get my thoughts in order. It
felt like utter chaos inside my head these days.

Ridley and Isabella were already there when I arrived. I fell into step
behind them as they entered Joker’s home. Ridley had a few board games
tucked under her arm. At least they’d come prepared, because I doubted
Joker had any. I’d already given them a few of the ones we had at home
that I thought might be fun.

“Hey, Cleo,” I said.

“Good to see you guys.” Her voice sounded hollow, and it looked
like she hadn’t been sleeping well.

Isabella walked over to her first, giving her a hug. “How are you
holding up?”

“Counting down the minutes,” she said.

Ridley clapped her hands together, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
“We’re here to take your mind off things. Right,
Ares?”

I nodded. “Yeah, we brought some board games. Thought we could all
use a distraction.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

We settled around her kitchen table. Before we’d even had a chance to
set up the game, someone knocked on the door. Joker went to answer. Ridley
started to set up one of the games, and Isabella and I helped. I noticed
Cleo kept glancing toward the door.

He returned with an envelope and handed it to Cleo. “For
you.”

“Who’s it from?” she asked. She ripped open the envelope
and as she read the contents of the paper inside, she paled a bit.

“Everything all right?” Isabella asked.

“Fine,” she said. Did anyone else notice the tremor in her
voice or the way her hands trembled? “Just a reminder about my
appointment.”

“Ah, can’t forget that,” Ridley said.

“Let’s focus on the game,” Cleo suggested.

I rolled the dice and gave a little shout of excitement, hoping to make
things seem as normal as possible. “All right!”

Everyone took their turns rolling the dice and moving their tokens. When it
went around to Cleo, she stared at the board, almost as if she wasn’t
fully present. I glanced at Ridley and Isabella, and realized they’d
noticed it too. Cleo must have a lot on her mind between the issues with her
family and her heart problem.

“Your move, Cleo,” Ridley prompted.

“Right,” she mumbled.

We played for quite a while, until the sky started to darken. I
didn’t know if this had distracted Cleo or not, but it had kept me
from focusing on things for a while. I hadn’t realized how much
I’d needed this until now. I helped clean up the games, then we told
Joker and Cleo goodbye.

Ridley offered me a ride, but I waved her off. The walk would do me some
good. I paused at the clubhouse and stared at my car. It didn’t make
sense to leave it here overnight, but at the same time, I’d prefer to
get home on my own two feet than by driving there. I decided to leave it and
kept walking.

A sudden chill prickled my skin, a whisper of danger that tightened my
muscles. A feeling of unease skittered down my spine, and I wondered if
trouble was drawing closer than any of us realized.

When I got home, there was a wrongness I felt all the way to my core. I
slowly approached the house, keeping an eye on my surroundings, just the way
Dad had taught me. I twisted the knob on the front door and pushed it
open.

“Mom? Are you here?” I called out. Nothing. Not so much as a
whisper of sound. I eased farther into the house, wondering if I should call
Dad. Dessa’s car was outside, which meant she had to be here. She
hadn’t ridden with him to the clubhouse earlier, even though
she’d been there with the kids.

“Junie, Judd, Marnie!” I shouted.

No one answered, and I couldn’t find anyone at home. I went back
outside, wondering if maybe they went to a neighbor’s house. Before
I’d made it to the end of the driveway, I felt the cold kiss of metal
against my neck.

About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC
Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde
immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible
women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still
managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new
plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book.
She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies.
Visit Wylde’s website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and
don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts
and other exciting perks.

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

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

Pre-Order Today

Dixie Reapers MC, Book 19

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense, 2nd Chances

Date Published: February 23, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cleo — My family put me through hell, and I escaped the only way
possible… by marrying a biker locked up in prison. Joker gave me his
name and a way to hide from my family. Until the day they find me…
Now it’s time I return to the husband who doesn’t want me and
hope he doesn’t find out all my secrets — because if he does, I have
a feeling he’s going to make me leave.

Joker — She seemed sweet and innocent. Marrying her wasn’t a big
deal. Then I managed to obtain my freedom, and with it, I decided to set her
free as well. Only one problem. She doesn’t want a divorce. Now Cleo
is living with me, and my club has accepted her as part of our family. None
of us realized she was hiding something that could destroy us, but at the
end of the day, she’s mine and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep
her safe.

WARNING: Joker is intended for adult readers 18+ due to bad language,
violence, and adult situations. There’s no cliffhanger involving the
main characters. There is a slight cliffhanger involving secondary
characters, which will be resolved in the next book. Guaranteed happily ever
after, and no cheating!

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2024 Harley Wylde

Joker

The clanging of metal bars and shouting inmates jolted me awake. Another
day in this hellhole. I blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights as the
guard banged his baton against my cell, barking at me to get up. My joints
creaked in protest as I slid off the thin mattress onto the cold concrete
floor. I’d wasted away in this cage for over a decade, my youth fading
with each endless day.

“Mail,” the guard said, thrusting a letter into my cell.

Only one person wrote to me. Someone I’d never met in person, though
she’d sent me a picture one time. Out of boredom, I’d signed up
for a pen pal program, not expecting much. To my surprise, I’d
received dozens of letters — all from women. One had stood out. A teen girl
named Cleo.

I’d been hesitant to respond. At forty-eight, I’d felt like it
was wrong to reply to her. My morals might be questionable, but I still had
a line I wouldn’t cross. In the end, I’d answered her, and
we’d been writing to each other ever since. She’d needed a
sympathetic ear, and I’d needed a distraction.

I opened Cleo’s latest letter, her looping cursive filling the page.
My light in this darkness. She saw the man beneath the cut, the heart behind
the grim façade. Her letters were a glimpse of the world outside
these walls. She shared her dreams, her troubles, her very soul. And I
confessed things to her I’d never uttered aloud. The abandoned boy who
turned to the club for family, the gnawing loneliness beneath the swagger.
She understood. We were both fighting our own demons.

The guard slammed the bars again. “Chow time, Joker! Look
alive!”

I tucked Cleo’s letter into my pocket, close to my heart. I’d
survive another day in this concrete tomb just to read her words again
tonight. And someday, somehow, I’d be free. I wasn’t sure what
would happen then. We were worlds apart in a lot of ways. Once I left this
place, Cleo would come to be a part of my past. It would be dangerous for us
to keep in touch.

I shuffled into the cafeteria, the din of inmates engulfing me. I kept my
head down as I grabbed my tray of slop and found an empty table. Solitude
was survival in this jungle. Placing my arm around my tray, I shoveled food
into my mouth. In this place, you had to protect what was yours.

My thoughts drifted to Cleo as I forced down the cold mush. She
hadn’t written in weeks. Her family was poison. From what I’d
gathered they were all rotten to the core. She only hinted at the horrors
she’d seen, but I sensed the fear beneath her brave words. At
seventeen, she shouldn’t be worried about surviving. She should be
having fun with her friends, enjoying her high school years, and figuring
out where she wanted to go in life. I hated not being able to do anything
for her, except listen.

My fists clenched, rage simmering through my veins. If they touched one
hair on her head, I’d kill them. She was too pure for this world, an
angel who deserved so much more. I had to protect her, no matter the cost.
Except… the shackles binding me went deeper than this prison. I owed
my club my life and my loyalty. I couldn’t do anything without talking
to them first, and I hadn’t heard from any of them in a long-ass time.
I’d fucked up, and it had felt like they all turned their backs on
me.

The guards herded us to the yard, the sun blinding after days under
flickering fluorescent lights. I found a shady corner and waited. Breathing
in the fresh air meant nothing without freedom. I’d only traded an
interior cage for an exterior one.

A hush fell over the inmates. The warden stormed across the yard, his face
like thunder. He stopped in front of me, his eyes hard. Well, shit. Had I
done something wrong again? It wasn’t often he came in person. Then
again, I wasn’t always nice to the guards. Maybe he was simply
protecting his men.

“You’ve got a visitor, Joker.”

My pulse quickened. No one had come to see me in years. What the fuck was
going on?

The warden didn’t like me. In fact, we’d frequently butted
heads during my incarceration. It had to piss him off that I had a visitor.
The man would do anything to keep me from even one moment of happiness. I
knew if he could, he’d keep me locked up for the rest of my
life.

I followed the warden through the maze of fences and gates until we reached
the visitation room. My breath caught when I saw her. Even though I’d
only seen one picture of her, I recognized her right away.

Cleo.

She looked small and fragile in the plastic chair, her fingers twisting a
tissue. Bruises shadowed under her eyes, barely hidden by makeup. My heart
clenched.

I sat down, picking up the phone. Her eyes flooded with tears as she did
the same.

“Joker,” she whispered. “I’m so
sorry…”

“What happened?”

She glanced around quickly before answering. “My brother found out
about the letters. He was furious. Said no one in the family should
associate with your kind.”

My jaw tightened, fury rising. My kind, huh? Seemed like her brother
wasn’t any better. “Did he hurt you?”

“It doesn’t matter –”

“The hell it doesn’t!” I snarled. “You listen to
me. I’m getting you out of there, you hear me? We’ll leave town,
start over somewhere new.”

“How?” Her voice trembled. “You still have years left of
your sentence.”

I placed my hand against the glass. “Marry me.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Marry me,” I repeated. “You just turned eighteen, right?
So you don’t need your family’s permission. I know the warden
hates me, but… I’ll convince him somehow. He’ll do the
ceremony right here. Then when I get out, we can start over — together, if
that’s what you want.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She put her hand against mine, even though
the glass separated us. “Yes. I’ll marry you,
Joker.”

“I’ll find a way to get word to you. If your brother is angry
about us talking, then I can’t send it to your house. Find someone
willing to help you and send me their address. I’ll correspond with
you through them.”

She nodded and wiped away more tears. We talked for another minute, then
our time was up. I watched her walk away and hoped I’d made the right
choice. If this came back to bite me in the ass, it might end up harming her
too.

* * *

It took two weeks to convince the warden. In the end, he only agreed in
order to help Cleo. I stood in a dingy room, still cuffed and wearing my
prison-issued jumpsuit. It wouldn’t be the wedding of her dreams, but
hopefully it kept her safe.

Cleo entered the room in a simple white dress, holding a small bouquet of
daisies. Her smile nearly blinded me. I didn’t know why she looked so
happy. It made me wonder what she thought about this marriage. I had to
admit, she looked beautiful.

We exchanged brief vows. No kiss or embrace could seal our union. It ended
nearly as soon as it had begun. The guards escorted her from the room and
sent me back to my cell. I could only hope changing her name from Cleo
Lathem to Cleo Clemons would help her in some way.

My heart ached, knowing she had to return to that abusive household. I felt
powerless, stuck in this damn cell while she suffered. I slammed my fist
against the concrete in frustration. They couldn’t legally force her
to do anything, but people like that didn’t care about the law.
She’d have to disappear to avoid the danger of living with her family.
At least with her name changed, she’d have a chance to get away.
Hopefully, it would take them a while to figure out she’d gotten
married. I only wished I had some money to give her too.

The next visiting day, her eyes were puffy from crying as she picked up the
phone. “It’s time. I’m leaving this week. Today will be my
last visit with you.”

I hadn’t expected her to ever come here again. Seeing her one last
time was more than enough. I nodded, letting her know I understood.

“Go as far as you can and don’t look back,” I said.

“Will you be okay?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve survived this place this
long. I’ll be fine. Protect yourself, Cleo, whatever it
takes.”

I hung up the phone, forcing her to leave. This was for the best. She
needed a clean break. As much as I’d enjoyed her letters, I hoped she
didn’t write anymore. It was time for her to start living. I’d
miss her like hell. She’d been a bright light in this dismal place.
Without her words to carry me through, I wasn’t sure what would happen
to me. Didn’t matter. I’d possibly die in this place. Even if I
got out, my life was probably halfway over. Assuming I didn’t get
shot, stabbed, or die in some other fun way long before I became an old man.
Cleo was just getting started. There was so much of the world for her to
explore, and I hope she got the chance to see it all.

For me, days passed. Then weeks. Months. I didn’t hear from Cleo
again. Time blurred. I lived one monotonous day after another. Wake up, work
out, eat, work, eat again, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat.

My thoughts constantly drifted to Cleo when I wasn’t occupied. Was
she eating enough? Getting any sleep? Staying safe from her family’s
crooked dealings?

I wondered where she was now. How far had she gone? Was it a big enough
distance her family couldn’t find her? Part of me wondered if
we’d ever bump into each other again in the future, once I put this
place behind me. It ate at me, not knowing if she was safe or not. Had the
plan worked? Or had I married her for no reason?

About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC
Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde
immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible
women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still
managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new
plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book.
She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies.
Visit Wylde’s website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and
don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts
and other exciting perks.

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

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

Pre-Order Today

Grim Road MC, Book 1

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date to be Published: 2/9/24

Publisher: Changeling Press

Rocket: My life pretty much took a hard left a year ago when I first met
Lemon. She’s wise beyond her years and as abrasive and sarcastic as
they come. The second she busts my VP’s balls — literally — I know
I’d never be able to forget her. A year later I’m still
infatuated with the vicious woman. When she runs off to charge hell with a
water pistol, I’m right behind her wondering how we’re gonna get
out of this one alive. But I have a smile on my face and a determination to
give this woman anything she wants. Even if it means some things in my club
are going to have to change.

Lemon: Look. This is supposed to be all about how Rocket caught my eye and
I decided I wanted him but there were obstacles and…
phfffffff… Forget all that. What you need to know is when people are
stupid, they need a kick in the… Crap. I’m not supposed to
swear here. Grrrrr! Anyway, this is where I come in. Grim Road needs fixing.
I’m not exactly qualified to do club… garbage, but Rocket?
Yeah. I might have decided I’ll keep him, so… I’m great
at whipping people into shape. Grim Road, meet Lemon. See me, love me,
MF’ers.

Rocket: Just pass me the beer and popcorn…

WARNING: Rocket includes scenes of graphic violence and adult situations
including that may be triggers for some readers. There’s also a
protective hero, a determined heroine, and eventual happy ending. No
cheating, as always.

Excerpt

Copyright Marteeka Karland

I looked around, making sure I had a handle on our surroundings. If things
went south, our best bet was to get back in the truck and do our best to get
the hell outta Dodge. I had no idea if the thing was bulletproof — knowing
the Iron Tzars, there was every possibility it was — but we’d have to
keep our heads down and book it as hard as we could. If I ran over someone
in the process? Fuck ‘em.

“Get that look off your face, girl.” Rocket stepped closer to
us, his gaze focused squarely on me. “We ain’t gonna pounce on
you. You’re here to let Scarlet get anything she wants that she left
behind, and to talk to Sunshine and Rainbow.”

“We’re here to take Sunshine and Rainbow with us,” I
snapped before anyone could say anything else. “Not leavin’
‘em here.”

“You will if they don’t want to go.” Rocket didn’t
raise his voice or even look angry. His features were mild. Reasonable
even.

“Scarlet’s their guardian now. They’ll go where she
says.” I stuck my chin up. I thought I heard Mars groan, but I
didn’t dare take my gaze from Rocket to make sure.

“They’re old enough to make up their minds what they want to
do. If they don’t want to leave Grim Road, I’ll look after
them.”

“Not on your fuckin’ life.” I bared my teeth at Rocket
who looked amused. Which just pissed me the fuck off. “How ‘bout
I wipe that smug grin off your fuckin’ face.”

That got a couple chuckles from the members of Grim Road nearby.

“That one’s askin’ for a whoopin’, Prez. You gonna
teach her some manners?”

“Yep.” Rocket crossed his muscled arms over his massive chest.
He wore jeans and a leather cut without a shirt under it so he showed off a
lot of muscle and tattooed skin. “Just not now. She ain’t old
enough.”

“Like fuck you are.” I took a step toward Rocket, fully
intending to give him more of what I’d given him last night but Mars
held out his arm to prevent me from going around him.

“Just calm down, Lemon. He’s baiting you.”

“Lemon?” Bear barked out a laugh. “Her name’s
Lemon.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.

“You got a problem with that, fuckwit?” I ignored Mars. I knew
they were baiting me. Of all of Scarlet’s protectors, I was the weak
link and they were testing my boundaries and how far they could push
me.

“I got a problem with your mouth. Maybe there’s somethin’
else you could do with it.”

“Bear,” Rocket growled, his facial expression changing like
someone had flipped a switch. “She’s underage.”

“Yeah?” I plowed on, ignoring Rocket. “Try it. See what
body part you lose, you freak.”

Bear leaned forward in my direction but didn’t actually commit to
taking the full step. Then he pointed at me. “Your day’s comin,
lil’ bit.”

I sneered, looking the big man up and down like a princess eyeing a filthy
peasant who’d been mucking out the pig barn. “Not from
you.”

“Can we please get a move on?” Brick actually raised his voice.
That was new. Usually, he just growled or snarled and everyone jumped to do
his bidding. Well, everyone except Serelda. He never used his growly voice
with her.

“Sure. Soon as the Neanderthal gets the fuck outta the way.” I
gave Bear a cheerful wave.

“Glad that one’s leavin’,” he muttered as he
stepped back. “Someone needs to teach her some manners.”

“I only use manners with people who earn that respect from
me.”

“Which is to say no one.” I thought that was Smoke, but the man
didn’t know me that well. OK, so maybe he did. ‘Cause yeah.
Manners were for pussies.

About the Author

International bestselling author Marteeka Karland leads a double life as an
erotic romance writer by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day.
Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in
spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable
heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful
ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are
speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight
entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that
elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband
with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for
preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts
(which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with
Marteeka’s latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her
website. Don’t forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you
with a potpourri of Teeka’s beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph
events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

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

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Iron Tzars MC, Book 10

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date to be Published: January 12, 2024

Scarlet — I left Florida and Grim Road, my father’s club, with
Hammer, believing he loved me. But Hammer turned out to be a monster,
brutalizing me at every turn. He’s using my sisters as leverage to
control me. I’ve got to find a way out, even if that means sacrificing
myself to save them. Though I’m eighteen, and still in high school,
there’s no one I can tell. Except my friend Lemon, whose dad is in the
Iron Tzars MC. When the club comes to rescue me, it’s almost too late.
But then there’s Mars, holding me tight and keeping my nightmares
away. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted. He makes me feel safe.
But he has his own demons… and I’m not sure which of us needs
saving most.

Mars — l have demons from my past I can’t overcome. Mostly I’m
reasonably sane, but if I have a flashback, the likelihood of someone
getting hurt is more than I can stomach. But when I see Hammer terrorizing
the young woman he claims is his, I know I can’t stand by and watch.
I’m not what she needs, but when her daddy’s club comes in hell
bent on taking her home, I realize just how much she means to me, and I will
never let her go. She’s mine to protect. Mine to hold. And maybe, just
maybe, she’s the one to save me from myself.

WARNING: Mars includes scenes of graphic violence and adult situations
including suicide and graphic description of torture that may be triggers
for some readers. There’s also a protective hero, a determined
heroine, and eventual happy ending. No cheating, as always.

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2024 Marteeka Karland

Mars

“What the fuck is goin’ on with Hammer’s old lady?”
I leaned against the bar with my finger curled around the neck of a bottle
of Bud Light. “She’s right-handed and hasn’t used her
right arm to do anything while she’s been here. Almost looks like her
shoulder’s dislocated. Look at the set of her shoulders.”

“Really, Mars? The woman’s a knockout and you’re paying
attention to how much she uses her dominant arm?” Rage shook his head
as he chuckled before taking a pull from his own beer. For some reason, the
man had been pushing me toward this girl since the second she walked into
the compound. Despite her belonging to another man. Which wasn’t like
Rage. Or anyone in Iron Tzars. Poaching on another man’s territory
wasn’t something we ever did. That being said, he was right. The woman
was a fuckin’ knockout. Long, chocolate brown hair laying down her
back in springy waves, creamy skin. She had a waif-like build and looked
like she needed a good cheeseburger, but I definitely saw her appeal.
“Besides, how do you know she’s right-handed?”

I shrugged. “When she reaches for something, she tries to use her
right arm, then stops and uses her left.” I watched as she crossed the
common room. Her smile looked forced to me and there was a set to her jaw
and a stiffness in her gait that made me think she was in pain. But that
couldn’t be right. “Are you sure they’re married? I mean,
she ain’t wearin’ a property patch. She’s supposed to be
Claw’s daughter. As the daughter of Grim Road’s vice president,
I’d have thought her daddy’d insist she wear her man’s
patch.” A property patch was as much for protection for the woman as
it was to prevent anyone from hitting on her. I couldn’t imagine Claw
would allow her to not wear her vest with the club colors on it and the
rockers telling anyone who saw her who she belonged to. Not only was she
Hammer’s, but she belonged to Grim Road MC.

“Maybe she ain’t his woman. Maybe they’re just
fuckin’.” That came from Breaker. He was an easy going member of
the Tzars, but also one of the deadliest. He’d just earned his patch
and we all knew he’d make a great addition. He’d had my back
more times than I cared to think about.

“You honestly think Claw, badass that he’s supposed to be, is
gonna let his baby girl be a club slut or even a steady lay to one of his
patched members? He’d kick the kid’s ass and ask forgiveness
from his daughter after the fact. Besides, she might be legal, but the
girl’s still in high school. I’m surprised he let her go this
far away from Grim at all, let alone without the protection of her
man’s property patch.”

I studied Scarlet intently as she spoke briefly with Winter. Roman’s
old lady had pulled her aside and was chatting with her. Scarlet looked like
she wanted to be anywhere but where she was. Lemon and Apple had mostly
stayed by her side the whole time she’d been here, but she seemed way
too uncomfortable with the whole scene. I knew Grim Road was different and
preferred not to cross family with club like some did. Hell, the Tzars
hadn’t either until a bunch of the members and officers had acquired
old ladies who were determined to take their roles seriously and help their
men in any way they could. But she still shouldn’t look this
uncomfortable. Not if she’d been raised anywhere near that MC. Scarlet
kept glancing at the door like she expected trouble, which was one more
thing odd about her.

Rage grunted. “Point taken. Which raises more than a few
questions.”

“And makes me wonder what the fuck is goin’ on.” That
last comment had been more a musing to myself than anything else. Again,
Rage grunted, his eyes narrowing at the girl in question. Apparently, he had
a few musings himself.

As if Scarlet had summoned him, Hammer walked in from where he’d no
doubt been pestering Sting and Brick. Hammer had aspirations of joining Iron
Tzars though he’d yet to give anyone a good reason why, at least none
that Sting or Brick cared to share with anyone. In fact, I wasn’t even
sure Hammer knew Sting was aware of his ties with Grim Road until he’d
spoken with Roman earlier today. It was why he and Scarlet had been invited
over tonight. So Hammer could meet with our president and vice president.
Sting and Brick would have Wylde thoroughly vet Hammer, as well as discuss
it with Rocket and Claw, the president and vice president of Grim Road. He
may or may not have told Hammer that, but it was standard practice. Which
might have something to do with Hammer’s bad mood.

“Come on, Scarlet,” he snapped. “We’re
leaving.” He glanced around the place like he was looking for someone
in particular. Then he muttered seemingly to himself, but I was pretty sure
he meant for me and Rage to hear. “Fuckin’ bastard
wouldn’t know a good member if one nailed him in the ass.”

Rage and I looked at each other. Apparently, Sting hadn’t immediately
taken him on. I could have told the asshole he wouldn’t. Being a
member of Iron Tzars wasn’t a trivial thing. We had blood on our
hands. Literally. And as long as there were people who needed killing, we
were up for the task. Also, becoming a member was a “for life”
deal. No one left the club. The only member I knew of who had was our former
president. Warlock had been accepted into Black Reign MC at the requested
demand of their president. No one said no to El Diablo if he really wanted
something.

“I’m just about finished,” Scarlet said softly.

“You’re finished,” Hammer snapped. “We’re
leaving.” He took a hold of her right upper arm and yanked her after
him. Scarlet winced and gasped in pain, but quickly covered it with a blank
expression. Instantly, both me and Rage were on our feet moving in their
direction. Breaker was hot on our heels.

“Take it easy there, hoss.” Atlas beat us to him. He had a
smile on his face, but I could see the anger inside Atlas simmering
underneath the surface. Mainly because I felt much the same way. Only I
didn’t bother to hide behind a thin veneer of civility.

“You’re hurting her.” I couldn’t stop the growl as
we advanced.

Hammer stopped and glared at us but didn’t let go of Scarlet’s
arm. He was an intimidating man, but from what I’d seen of him, he was
more bluster than action. He might talk a big talk, but he wasn’t
going to be anxious to take on me, Rage, Breaker and Atlas all together.
“She got a fuckin’ flu shot today. If she’d take some
acetaminophen and ibuprofen like I fuckin’ told her to, she
wouldn’t be sore.” He jerked Scarlet’s arm again. This
time, she schooled her features, not seeming to mind the way he manhandled
her.

“Bye, Winter. It was so wonderful to meet you.” Scarlet waved
at Roman’s woman with a smile.

“It was nice to meet you too, Scarlet. I hope you can join us this
weekend for girls’ night out.”

Scarlet glanced up at that shit, Hammer, as if his decision dictated
whether or not she go with the other old ladies. Hammer gave her a hard look
and a slight shake of his head and Scarlet’s face fell.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to make it. Please
tell Lemon and Apple I’ll see them at school.” Hammer tugged her
arm again and nearly pulled Scarlet off her feet. She winced slightly but
held in her cries when I knew she was hurting. “Bye,
guys.”

Hammer didn’t slow down or give her time to catch up. Scarlet
stumbled after him and more than once I was sure she’d fall on her
face. Each time, Hammer held her up by that arm. Each time he did, she
winced in pain. I could see her jaw clench. That bastard didn’t
acknowledge she might be hurt. Rather, he shoved her onto the back of his
bike. Scarlet didn’t look the least bit steady, or able to hold on to
him. When he took off, she nearly tumbled off the back before gaining her
balance. Judging by the way he smirked back at Scarlet, Hammer had done it
on purpose.

“What the fuck was that all about?” I muttered my question, not
really expecting an answer.

“Not sure, but I think someone needs to tell Claw about this.”
Rage had an expression on his face as hard as I knew my own expression
was.

I snorted. “You gonna do it?” Yeah. I could imagine how that
conversation would work. Given that Claw was the vice president of a club
rumored to be full of black ops soldiers, his temper had the potential to
get more than a few men killed. My guess was it probably wouldn’t bode
well for the messenger.

“I’m not telling Claw.” Me and Rage still watched the
bike speeding off into the night.

“You’re afraid to tell Claw.” The barb was automatic when
I wasn’t in the teasing mood. Rage and I always threw shade at each
other. It was just how we rolled.

“Damned right I’m afraid to tell Claw. If it were just a guy
from his club mistreating a woman, I wouldn’t give a shit. But I
ain’t too chickenshit to admit I was being a coward. I tell the vice
president of Grim Road I think the man who’s fuckin’ his
daughter might be abusing her too? And we just let him roll right on out of
this fucking compound with his daughter on the back of his fuckin’
bike? Yeah. I’ll be part of any group you want to take to go after
this bastard, but no fuckin’ thanks. Get Sting to tell him. Or Brick
or Roman. Above my fuckin’ paygrade.”

“Point taken.” I moved toward my bike, climbing on and readying
to take off. “Go talk to Sting, so he can give Claw the
heads-up.”

“You goin’ after her? I’ll back you up and worry about
the other later.”

“I can’t let this go on. We’ll need more than two of us
if he’s not alone. I don’t think I’ll have a problem with
him, but he’s a big fucker. Get Roman to send me some more backup
before you follow.” I started my bike and rolled out.

About the Author

International bestselling author Marteeka Karland leads a double life as an
erotic romance writer by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day.
Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in
spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable
heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful
ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are
speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight
entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that
elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband
with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for
preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts
(which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with
Marteeka’s latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her
website. Don’t forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you
with a potpourri of Teeka’s beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph
events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

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

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(Hounds of Hell MC 2): A Hounds of Hell MC Romance

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: 12/15/2023

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Emily — Most wonderful time of the year? Yeah, right. Business isn’t
booming at my bakery this Christmas and I’m behind on my business loan. And
if that weren’t enough, my SUV’s transmission is dying, my ex is in town for
the holidays, and our regular Santa broke his leg and can’t make it for the
annual children’s Christmas party. Somehow, we’ve ended up with a biker
playing Santa Claus this year and I think he’s the wrong man for the job.
Santa shouldn’t have all those muscles and tattoos. And I shouldn’t be
daydreaming about sitting in Santa’s lap.

Snow — I’m not a man with a sweet tooth — at least I wasn’t until now. If
I’d known about the gorgeous little baker, I’d have snatched her up years
ago. The little lady has a lot of problems this holiday season. For her,
I’ll play Santa Claus for the kids, and her ex will wish he got a lump of
coal in his stocking when I’m done with him. Emily will have a good
Christmas. I guaran-damn-tee it.

EXCERPT

Emily

“Wait. What?” Emily Frost couldn’t have heard that right. The annual Christmas event they held in Mercy each year for the town’s children was two weeks away. “What do you mean Andy isn’t going to be able to play Santa Claus this year?”

While she listened to the elderly man’s wife explain why he wouldn’t be able to be Santa this year, Emily was fighting off hysteria. She understood that he’d taken a nasty fall and told his wife she was very sorry he’d broken his leg. Automatically, she asked if there was anything she could do. She did care. But she really wasn’t listening for a response.

What was she going to do?

Emily carried on the rest of the conversation as best she could, taking a deep breath when she ended the call.

“Fuck!” Her yell echoed through the quiet bakery.

Could things get any worse? She was blinking back tears as she finished counting the register and got all the goodies that hadn’t sold today boxed up. And there was a lot that hadn’t sold today.

The planning committee for the Christmas event was meeting tomorrow. Each member of that committee had jobs to do to make the event happen each year. Liza Austin and her husband owned a greenhouse in town. Each year they provided a beautiful wreath for the door. A live potted Christmas tree for the event was displayed in her bakery shop’s window throughout the holidays. Liza had a key to the shop to take care of the tree so it could be replanted later.

Myra Michaels handled the guest list, answering questions from parents and guardians about the event. She also handled donations that came in. Mina Dock had passed away this summer, but her granddaughter had moved back to town and was taking her place on the committee. Jade Dock and Emery Phillips oversaw setup, using folding chairs and tables Emery used at his bar, Sackett’s, for special events. They got out the decorations they used each year. Most had been donated by Jade’s grandmother Mina.

Emily had been a part of the committee since its first year, five years ago. Her job was supplying all the baked goods for the event and, with help, filling stockings with candy and treats for the kids to take home.

And she’d been the one who found their Santa Claus, Andy Wilder. Each year the elderly gentleman arrived as Santa and was just the best part of the entire event in her opinion. His warmth and sincerity made him a perfect choice. Plus, he could handle anything from kids scared of Santa, to those who were acting up and rowdy.

But he wasn’t coming this year. That was just the latest calamity this week and it was just Thursday night.

Where were they going to get another Santa Claus with two weeks to go?

Locking the door on her way out, she carried the box of goodies out to her SUV and got in. Emily crossed her fingers that the damn thing would start because it hadn’t been running right for the last several weeks. She knew her transmission was failing. What she didn’t know, since things had been so slow at the shop, was where she was getting the money to fix it.

In five minutes, she reached Mercy’s homeless shelter, delivering what she didn’t sell as she did every day the bakery was open. Heading for the back door, Emily rounded the corner and almost collided with someone.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered glancing up into gray eyes.

There were two men, both tall and wearing leather vests with their biker gang name on them, carrying a bed frame into the shelter. The one closest to the door was blond and nice-looking. The one she almost ran into? He was just as tall and muscular with a dark beard and mustache and almost entirely white locks of hair were in disarray on his head. She did a double take because hair that color didn’t usually go with a younger face. His eyes were pale gray and stunning.

The Hounds of Hell had long been a part of Mercy according to Liza, and she spoke of them fondly. Emily didn’t know much about motorcycle gangs and none of them ever came to her bakery. She really wanted to keep it that way. They were a little scary for her.

That gray-eyed gaze moved over her until the blond lost patience. “Snow, we still moving this frame?”

Snow returned his attention to the task, and someone else walked over to her.

“Emily, how are you?” Jade Dock asked. “Making your deliveries?”

Emily smiled. “I am. How are you?”

“Donating some things,” Jade said, watching the men carry the bed frame carefully through the shelter door. “At least I have some strong help to move them.”

Jade walked with her into the shelter. As she always did, Emily placed the box of treats on the receptionist’s desk just inside.

“Who’s your friend?” a deep voice behind her asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Guys, this is Emily,” Jade said, motioning to the two bikers who were apparently with her. To Emily, she said, “This is Hero and Snow.”

Emily shook hands with both, noticing the one she called Snow wasn’t too quick to release her hand. By the time he did, she noticed the blond had his arm around Jade’s waist. So they were a couple?

“I’d better get going,” Emily said. “It’s nice meeting you.”

“I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow?” Jade called as she walked back to the SUV.

When I get to tell the committee we need another Santa Claus, and we just have two weeks to find one? Yes, wouldn’t miss it.

“I’ll see you there,” Emily said over her shoulder as she reached the door. And as she headed back to her SUV, she just hoped the damn thing would start and not embarrass her in front of the bikers.

* * *

Snow

August Crowe, Snow to his MC, watched the petite blonde rush back to her SUV, the long braid of her hair dancing behind her. She looked so perky in her soft sweater and form-hugging slacks. He’d never seen an ass like that on such an uppity girl.

“Who’s that?” Snow asked Jade as he helped Hero get the old box spring out of the truck bed.

Jade watched her drive away in her SUV before turning back to Snow. “That’s Emily Frost. She owns Whisk and Whimsy in town. It’s a bakery.”

Frost, huh? That had Snow grinning. They sounded like a matched pair.

“Say that five times really fast,” Hero said from the other side of the furniture they were moving.

Figures. She looked like someone you’d find in a bakery, making treats. If he thought she’d give him the time of day, Snow would become a bakery patron real fucking fast. But from the look she cut him, he probably wouldn’t have a lot of luck.

“What meeting is tomorrow?” Hero asked Jade, holding one end of the box spring and guiding Snow who carried the other.

“Planning committee for the annual kids’ Christmas party,” Jade explained. “It’s only two weeks away.”

Jade had mentioned it recently. Doing an event for the poor kids in Mercy sounded like a good plan to him. If Miss Uppity was in on it, she had a good heart.

“If you need help with that, let me know,” Snow said. It earned him a look from both Jade and Hero, but he meant it. There had been a few times when he’d been a kid that he and his family wouldn’t have had food if not for the kindness of others. He liked the idea of paying it forward.

“Thank you, Snow,” Jade told him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hero shook his head as they reached the shelter door.

“What?” Snow asked. “Something wrong with wanting to help kids? Razor did say we should do some community outreach.”

“Not that,” Hero said. “The blonde. I’d forget that if I were you.”

“Why?” Jade asked. “Emily’s nice.”

“Maybe so,” Hero said. “But I’d be willing to bet someone in an MC isn’t exactly her type.”

“I might have said the same thing once,” Jade didn’t look convinced. “You can’t assume things like that.”

She had a point.

“So the party is for any kid in Mercy?” Snow asked as they maneuvered the box spring through the shelter door.

Jade followed them. “Technically. We have to leave it open for anyone to avoid singling people out, you know? The ones who really need help.”

“Good approach,” Snow said.

“I’m told each year we have a tree and decorations. There’s an older man who comes to play Santa Claus. There are treats for everyone and everyone gets a gift from Santa. We identify the kids who really need help and they get different gifts than the ones we give the other kids that show up.”

“Makes sense,” Snow said. “What do the poor kids get?”

“The smaller ones get a toy, some candy, and a gift card this year,” Jade explained. “The older kids get candy and a bigger gift card. Santa tells them they can’t open their presents until Christmas Eve. Liza said most of the time that works.”

It was thoughtful.

They set the box spring down, heading back out for the mattress.

“Offer stands,” Snow said to Jade. “Let me know if I can help. Even if it’s just setup.”

About the Author

Jamie Targaet is the author of the Hounds of Hell MC. She’s anxious to
introduce you to this club of gorgeous, dominant men and the lucky women who
surrender to them. The ride is going to get wild at times, not going to lie.
But there’s thrilling action, scorching hot sex scenes, and all the
feels. 

Jamie writes erotic romance for Changeling Press, a little fanfiction on
the side, and she’s an aspiring horror writer in another life. She enjoys
time with her family (including the fur babies). She likes good horror
movies and shows, emo metal and classic rock, and time spent in other worlds
writing and reading. She loves hearing from readers and is looking forward
to hearing from you.

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

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