TEASER: Taken by the Gorgon by Megan Slayer #ParanormalWomensFiction

Taken, Book 4

 

Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Date Published: August 11, 2023

 

Trudi wasn’t looking for a romantic partner when she stumbled on Nick
in the park, but the sweet man sure seems out of place in Eerie. He also
seems drawn to her. He might be the death of her, but he could also be her
soulmate if she’s willing to open her heart.

There’s just the tiny matter of her deathly stare.

Nick knows the moment he meets Trudi that he’s met his match. The
beautiful gorgon haunts his dreams and he can’t get enough of her
kiss. When she agrees to help him research his past and unravel his family
tree, he knows he can’t let her go.

As long as she doesn’t kill him…

 

EXCERPT

 

“This has got to be the place.” Nick stopped at the edge of the
town. Eerie, Ohio. He stared at the sign and everything within him screamed
to get the hell out of there. He wasn’t much of a paranormal. He was
supposed to be the grandson of a gorgon, but honestly, he wasn’t even
sure. He’d come to Eerie in search of answers. His life didn’t
feel like his own and his family didn’t seem to want him around. Like
he wasn’t one of them. His father kept dropping hints that he needed
to find out where he’d come from, and now it was time to do
that.

Shit. No one wanted a man who might or might not be a gorgon around. He
wasn’t seen as a trickster. He was the most serious person he knew. He
sucked at jokes, sucked at relaxing and was a disaster with relationships.
He didn’t know how to give over control.

He looked up at the sign again.

 

Eerie

The best little town around.

 

Best little town. Ha! Maybe the place to find anything that didn’t
make sense. According to legend, the town was home to every paranormal
creature known to exist. Probably had a few the humans didn’t know
about, either.

If he was going to learn about his family and figure out who he was, then
he had to cross over. Had to go to the town hall and look up the records.
He’d have to face his past. He was the bastard son of a pair of
humans, so he’d been told. To be honest, the people he referred to as
his parents were actually his adoptive parents. The real ones were still a
bit of mystery to him.

His mother might or might not have been a human. His father was equally an
enigma. He might have been a gorgon, but he might not have been if Dino
wasn’t his true father. If Nick wanted to unravel the mess, he’d
have to go to Eerie.

He had no choice.

He forced himself forward because he needed those answers.

He drove into town and a shiver ran the length of his spine. He’d
heard stories about Eerie. If one didn’t have a drop of paranormal
blood, then one wasn’t going to get into town. He’d made it, so
he must’ve had something within him that allowed him passage. Was he
really a gorgon? Hell if he knew.

The only thing he knew about gorgons was what he read in books, scrolls and
on the Internet. The information freaked him out. Turning people to stone?
Who wanted to do that? But it made sense as to why he couldn’t seem to
keep a relationship. His girlfriends claimed he was hard to love. He
hadn’t really turned anyone to stone, though.

Supposedly, he might even be immortal. But if that was the case, he
didn’t buy it. If he was a gorgon, then why didn’t he have
snakes for hair? No, he had unruly curls that spent more time out of control
than in. He didn’t have scaly skin, either. He had freckles, but those
couldn’t count. His skin wasn’t golden, either. He did have a
mark on his back — he’d been told the mark looked like a pair of
wings – but he didn’t have an abnormally long tongue, like the
statues did.

According to the rumors, his mother was possibly Stheno, a monster and the
most dangerous of the gorgons, but if she was the fabled gorgon, was his
father a gorgon, too? Dino was, but none of the stories made sense.

If he’d had any idea, then he’d feel better about himself,
instead of being a walking disaster. One rumor claimed his parentage might
have even been from someone in the underworld. He did have a mark on his
chest that resembled a shield, but he had no idea what the shield might
represent. Some claimed he had sea creature within him. His grandfather
might have been a basilisk.

Anything was possible. He drove through town and felt oddly at home. Like
he’d always belonged here. Maybe he did.

He parked in a spot in the center of town, where the road ringed the park.
Children played on the equipment and caregivers sat on the benches. Unlike
the rest of the world, here he saw faeries, trolls, giants, witches and even
a couple elves.

What a remarkable place. No one had to hide what they were. No insults were
hurled. No laughing and pointing.

“I could belong here. I could.” Nick left the car and wandered
around the park, drinking in the images and view. He’d never seen such
lush plants and bright flowers. The laughter of children rang out in the
air, calming him. Where had Eerie been all his life?

He’d been stuck in the human world when he could’ve been
somewhere more welcoming.

“Excuse me? Can you tell me where the café is?” A woman
slid her gaze over him as she stepped into his path. “Aren’t you
delicious?”

He stopped short and stared at her. “I’m sorry.
What?”

“Where is the café?” She grinned. “You’re
quite handsome. Got a girlfriend?”

“Aren’t you forward?” He cleared his throat. “I
don’t know where the café is. I’m new to
town.”

“Are you?” Her eyes lit up. “Well, maybe we can
investigate town together. We’re both new.”

“Uh…” He didn’t like this. He hated confrontation
and being pushed. Then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be with this
woman. He didn’t even know her name.

“There you are.” Another woman rushed up to him. Snakes curled
on her head like a messy permanent, and she wore dark glasses. The slight
green of her skin caught the light and shimmered. The tight tank top barely
contained her curves. “Honey, I told you to stay close. But you never
listen. Excuse us.”

Stay close? Huh? The women were so pushy in this town.

The snake woman threaded her arms around his biceps. “We should go.
See you around, Lucy.”

“Sorry.” He allowed the new woman to drag him away. “Who
are you?”

“Me?” She tugged him to the other end of the park, away from
the playground. “I’m saving your ass.”

 

About the Author

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

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

 

Megan on social media…

Facebook

Instagram

BookBub

 

Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress

 

Preorder Today

 

 

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NEW RELEASE: Will (If It Feels Good) by Alice Gaines #PNR #WomensFiction

Will (If it Feels Good 3)

A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Novella

Sarah collects and sells antiques, and she lives in a fantasy world of her own creation. When she’s transported to another universe, she meets the man of her dreams, but he wants to teach her how to find pleasure in her “real” life.

Will Loudon is Sarah’s pleasure trainer. He’s also an honest-to-God English earl — the exact sort of man Sarah reads about in her forbidden books. He does such a good job of teaching her to find real pleasure, neither of them wants her to go home.

Available At:

Amazon (Kindle)
Apple Books
Barnes & Noble
Kobo Books
Smashwords
Thalia
Vivlio

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2023 Alice Gaines

The dust in the old attic made Sarah Meadows sneeze, but she wouldn’t have been happier anywhere else in the world.

“You sure you want to look through this ancient stuff?” Mr. Gamble, the owner of the house, asked from where he stood on a ladder behind her, his head poking out of the entrance to the attic.

“You said your wife saved everything,” Sarah answered as she scanned an assortment of old trunks, boxes, and antique furniture someone had found the strength to haul up the ladder.

“Never could get her to throw away anything,” he answered. “As soon as you’ve found everything you can use, I’m going to clean it all out.”

“I’m very grateful to be the first dealer you’ve had up here,” she said. “I’ll pay you a fair price for anything I find.”

“Guess that’s all it amounts to… a little bit of money.” He sighed. “Anything’s helpful these days. I’ll leave you to it.”

Which he did. Left her all alone in the relics of his wife’s life. Poor man. She’d probably find something she could sell in her shop. Then, she’d refer Mr. Gamble to a few businesses that could help him empty his attic in preparation for selling the house. This couldn’t be a joyful enterprise for him. It might be for her.

Dressed in grungy clothing for a dirty job, she got to work. The first box held a bunch of record albums. Vinyl was making a comeback these days. She pulled one of the discs out of its protective sleeve and did her best to scan it for defects in the dim light. Looked pretty good.

The next box had pots and pans. Nothing much there. She hauled herself to her feet and approached what looked like a lady’s dressing table. The wood was dinged, but it could be restored. Polished, it could make a lovely piece for a period boudoir.

One drawer held a hand mirror. Again, wood. Potentially salable. She glanced into it and almost dropped it. It wasn’t a mirror, after all, but the framed picture of a man’s face.

Okay, that shouldn’t have startled her. Maybe the lady who’d owned the piece kept her lover’s face framed in her dressing table. It sure didn’t look like Mr. Gamble, though. In fact, his wicked smile and scandalously long-ish hair fit more with a wealthy rake of another century. Maybe the piece was older than she’d thought.

“Don’t be frightened,” a man’s voice said from somewhere in the attic. A voice with a very distinct English accent.Her heart started beating like crazy. “Who’s there? Mr. Gamble?”

That sure hadn’t sounded like Mr. Gamble. Neither did the laughter that followed her question. Even without having heard the actual voice of a wealthy rake, she recognized it as such.

She’d read about such voices in her favorite novels. She’d never expected to hear one. She put her hand over her heart and did her best to keep breathing.

“That wasn’t a picture,” the voice said. “It was my reflection.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she said with as much authority as she could muster. “Who are you, and where are you?”

“Over here,” came the answer. But there was still no indication of the direction it came from. Rather, it seemed to be everywhere.Crap. She wasn’t staying up here with some stranger who could be deranged for all she knew. Who hid out in attics? Instead, she got up and walked slowly toward the ladder. She’d tell Mr. Gamble he had a prowler, and once the police had evicted said prowler, she’d return.

“Don’t go, Sarah.”He knew her name. How? She stopped in her tracks but didn’t turn around.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the voice said. “I’m here to fulfill your dreams.”

What did a formless voice know about her dreams? She hadn’t shared them with anyone because they sounded ridiculous, even to her own ears. To live in a former time that seemed to glitter so much on the pages of novels and in the movies. Back then, most common folk, like her, had led difficult lives with no real education and folk remedies their only health care. But the gowns and the balls. The architecture and art. The manners. Today seemed so coarse compared to that.

“Come find me, Sarah.”

Oh, that accent, like butter on a scone to be covered with jam and clotted cream. Wise or not, she was going to find him, so she might as well set about it. But where?

About the Author

USA Today best-selling author Alice Gaines has published several sensuous and erotic works. She prefers stories that stretch the imagination, highlighting the power of love and sex. Alice has a Ph.D. in psychology from U. C. Berkeley and lives in Oakland, California, where she sings in her church choir.

RELEASE BLITZ: Flashpoint by Lena Austin #PNR #Gay

Title: Flash Point

Series: Protect and Serve

Author: Lena Austin

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: July 7, 2023

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 46 pages

Genre: Romance, Science Fiction, Action Adventure, RomCom, Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Gay, Shapeshifters

Add to Goodreads

Synopsis

When fireman Dustin Hardesty saves a scruffy tomcat from a fire, and then a neutering at the shelter, he has no idea he’s just moved a cat shifter named Tigs into his life.

Tigs figures he owes Dustin, so he’ll hang around to give Dustin some good times. He doesn’t count on Dustin never wanting to let go of his alley cat.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2023 Lena Austin

My name is Tigs, and I’m a cat shifter. Don’t get smart, it’s not short for Tigger or anything stupid like that. I don’t fucking bounce or lisp my words, and I’m a gray tabby. I usually work construction and home renovation, me and my crew. We’re all shifters of one type or another, but we get along most of the time.

I’d let the rest of my crew go home early while I coiled up extension cords, locked up the tools, and cleaned up our work site. The old deli used to be the coolest little place when I’d been a kitten, but that’d been years ago. The guys would be waiting for me back at the warehouse we rented for the equipment, six blocks away — it also served as our home. The place was “guarded” by two dogs — a rat terrier and a Rottweiler mix along with three scruffy cats and that didn’t mean anything to the absentee landlord. Long as he got his cash, he didn’t give a shit.

Speaking of shit, we may look scruffy, but we’re good neighbors. We used the litter box or took a walk outside. The dogs “walk” each other, so that’s cool, and they curb themselves like responsible citizens.

Anyway, I smelled the stink of burning wood and rubber first. Figured some homeless guy had lit up the contents of a trashcan to keep warm nearby and didn’t give it another thought. This wasn’t the best neighborhood, but most poor don’t foul their own nest, ya know?

So, I finished coiling up the last extension cord and tossed it into the storage locker. Two seconds to snap the padlock, and I was ready for some of Pete’s Tuna Steaks on the grill back at our place.

No such luck. The smoke from the fire was coming up the stairs when I opened the door, and I bent over coughing my lungs out before I could shut the damn thing. “Who the fuck set a real fire in this stinkin’ joint? It can’t be for the insurance.” Didn’t matter. The entire downstairs — such as it was — was engulfed, and the floor was heating up. Damn near burned me through my boots, which meant I had seconds to get my ass out.

I took the easy road and threw a piece of scrap two-by-four through one of the windows we hadn’t removed yet. Single pane, painted shut, so it shattered easy as pie. Then I shifted, abandoned my clothes to their fate, and leaped for the limb of a scrub pine just in time. I hit the branches, yowling in pissed off feline at the loss of a perfectly good pair of steel toes.

Naturally, that was the moment the fire truck showed up. How convenient. I’d bet the arsonist called in the fire as soon as he got a safe distance away, after ensuring the place would be a pile of ash. So, a professional job. Not my problem, except some asshole owed me some new boots.

What surprised the fuck out of me was the ladder that slammed up against the tree. Tree wasn’t that big, being an inner city volunteer from some bird’s ass that happened on an empty lot. The whole thing shook.

I might have backed up a bit, but it wasn’t fear. I just didn’t want to get grabbed like some wuss who didn’t have sense enough to know how to get down.

The human wearing the standard issue fireman’s hard hat and a million pounds of gear climbed the ladder with casual ease until we were damn near face to whiskers.

“Well, hello bay-bee!” Okay, so it came out as a yowl loud enough to burst eardrums. Any other tom would have recognized my interest in the biggest pair of grass-green eyes in a tanned face I’d seen in a long time. Okay, so they were red-rimmed and tired. If I’d been human, my dick would have lifted my ass so far I’d have fallen out of the tree. I wanted me a piece of that man!

Once handsome Grass Eyes stopped wincing from my loud mouth, he hitched himself up one more rung. “Hey there, you could replace our siren with that set of lungs, dude.” He checked the fire, now close enough to us that I was getting more than a tad warm, ya know? “I really hate to interrupt your serenade, but unless you want to burn down with this tree, we need to go.” He reached for me.

On reflection, I realized Grass Eyes didn’t have a clue that I was a shifter, nor did he mean to insult Da Tigs. At the time, all I cared about was swatting his hand. Encased in the gloves and shit, he wasn’t even hurt, but I’d made my point. I could jump down anytime, if he’d move that fucking ladder.

Grass Eyes shook his head. “Man, I don’t want to leave you, loudmouth. Come on! This tree’s gonna go, shit head.”

Yeah, he had a point. I ignored his hand and jumped on his shoulders. I’d be damned if I’d be carried down like some frou-frou case from Cat Fanciers magazine.

“Okay, if that’s the way you want it.” Grass Eyes had the sense to know when he’d been elected as the vehicle of my ride down and made his way back to the base of the tree. I kept on riding, even while he helped his buds put the ladder away. Clearly, the old deli was a total loss, so they concentrated on keeping the rest of the local trash-pit buildings from coming down. Not all that difficult, and I couldn’t blame them for not working too hard at saving what wasn’t worth the effort.

Grass Eyes stood over to the side, talking on his radio and leaning against the big-ass red fire truck. He’d scrub his face with his hand now and then.

One of his buddies came by, lugging shit back to the truck. “It was arson, Dustin. Betcha the dogs sniff out accelerant.”

Dustin, which was Grass Eyes’ real name I guessed, sighed. “Yeah. This place was being renovated too. I drive by here daily and see the workers. They’ve been putting their backs into cleaning this place out, and they’re clean as a whistle about putting away equipment. I’ll tell the inspector the same when I see him. I doubt it was them being careless.”

Hey, a compliment. Very cool. I purred and rubbed up against Dustin’s ear for that.

“Yeah, I like you too, loudmouth.” He reached up and I let him give the backs of my ears a rub. I closed my eyes and purred louder, just to let him know he was doing a good job.

Purchase

Changeling Press | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes | Smashwords

Meet the Author

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

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

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TEASER TUESDAY: Maui (Savage Raptors MC) by Harley Wylde #mcromance #agegap

Savage Raptors MC, Book 3 – A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: June 23, 2023

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

Casey — It’s been a year since I showed up on my dad’s doorstep with my
surprise, you have a daughter bomb. He took me in. Gave me the first true
home and family I’ve ever had. But now I want more. There’s been one man
who’s always watching over me. Maui. He’s one of the club’s officers, and so
much older than me. To me, age is just a number. Does he feel the same? Or
is he only taking care of me because I’m his President’s daughter? With
Maui, I want everything, but will he want someone as broken as me?

Maui — I told myself I was too old for her. Tried to just be her friend.
Then I hear her screaming in her sleep, and I realize what types of monsters
she’s been fighting on her own. She needs me, and I need her. Whatever it
takes, Casey and her baby will be mine. But first, I need to get a little
bloody because there’s no way I’m letting anyone live after they’ve hurt my
family. I’ll wipe them off the face of the earth so Casey won’t be scared
anymore. I hope she accepts the darker side of me. Either way, she’s mine
and I’m hers.

 

WARNING: Content intended for adult readers. Maui contains darker subjects
which might trigger some readers, as well as violence and bad language.
Guaranteed happily ever after. No cheating. No cliffhanger.

 

 

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Harley Wylde

 

Maui

Everyone thought Casey would be excited to celebrate her birthday. The
young woman I’d been watching didn’t look like today was the
least bit special. She’d been through hell. If anyone had a right to
not feel like celebrating, it was her. She’d shown up at the
clubhouse, seventeen and pregnant, and I knew it had been a big blow for her
dad. The Pres had never mentioned having a woman, or a kid. I wondered how
long it had festered inside him, hiding all the pain of losing his
family.

During the time I’d spent with Casey since she arrived, I’d
learned quite a bit about her. Like the fact she’d never really
celebrated her birthday, wouldn’t divulge the name of the guy
who’d knocked her up, and she planned to live her life for her
daughter. She’d taken on a lot of responsibility, and I’d done
my best to help her shoulder some of it.

Which was why I found myself on her porch, with Rebel. Atilla and Solena
had sent us over with a note. Basically, we were to let her pick who she
wanted to spend the day with, then give her a memorable birthday. Just not
memorable enough to have Atilla threaten our lives. He’d already made
sure we knew what would happen if we touched his precious daughter.

“You going to knock?” Rebel asked.

“You do it.” I was an asshole. Why did I make him knock?
Because if we woke up Casey, I didn’t want to be the one at
fault.

She opened the door and looked like she might drop at any second.

“Hey, guys. Did Dad send you over to get me?”

Rebel flashed her his signature grin, guaranteed to drop panties, and I
fought the urge to throat punch him. Instead, I shoved my hands in my
pockets and let him dig his own grave. She didn’t look ready to handle
his bullshit today.

“You have a choice,” Rebel said. “The note explains
it.”

He handed her the envelope. I knew what was inside. A birthday card from
her dad and Solena, along with a message from each. I’d read it as
they’d written it earlier. Atilla had kept things somewhat simple. You
have a choice to make. I asked Rebel to take you to dinner, dancing, and
make sure you had the best birthday ever.

Then there was Solena’s message, which was why I hadn’t dressed
up too much before coming over. Unlike Rebel, who’d styled his hair,
doused himself in cologne, and gone all out. Solena was on my side, and her
message proved it. Maui is there to give you whatever you really need for
your birthday. I doubt it’s a night out on the town like your dad
thinks. But you should know both were threatened with death and
dismemberment if they laid a hand on you.

Casey snickered after reading the card. Good. She needed to laugh
more.

“So, which of us will you be spending the night with?” Rebel
asked, wagging his eyebrows at her suggestively. She shook her head at his
antics. If he wasn’t such a nice guy, I’d have been tempted to
kick his ass right off the porch.

“I hate to disappoint you both, but…”

“You aren’t up for going out,” I said. That meant I had a
better shot at spending time with her than Rebel. “When did you last
sleep?”

“I sleep every night,” she muttered.

“You know what I mean,” I said. “Don’t be a
smartass.”

She sighed and rubbed her hand over her face. “Becca had a fever, and
she’s still having reflux. I still have to be careful if I don’t
want her to throw up her food.”

“She’s eight months now, isn’t she?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m starting to get her mashed up banana, yogurt, and
other things like that. Those do better with her than the pureed baby food.
Do the two of you want to come in?” Casey asked.

Rebel shook his head. Smart man. “I think I’ll head out. I hope
you’ve had a happy birthday, Casey. I’ll take you out for lunch
sometime soon.”

Sure he would. Over my dead body. As much as I didn’t want to be one
of those asshole cavemen, when it came to Casey, all bets were off. I
didn’t like how close she’d gotten with Rebel. At the same time,
I knew she needed the support of everyone around her. It felt like I was
caught between a rock and a hard place.

He waved as he stepped off the porch and wandered off into the night. I
studied Casey, wondering if she was still okay with me going inside.
She’d never turned me away, but typically I came over to help with
Becca. Tonight, it would only be the two of us. I’d heard Atilla
offered to babysit. Had he already picked her up? Lately, it felt like
something was building between me and Casey, but I didn’t know if it
was wishful thinking on my part. Casey could have any man she wanted.

For a lot of people, the age gap between us would be too much. As far as I
was concerned, it was just a number. Who the hell cared? As long as it
didn’t bother Casey, then I was fine with it. Her dad might take a
little convincing, although he tried not to be too overbearing after not
being part of her life for so long. As he often said, she’d grown up
just fine without his input.

“You coming in?” she asked, taking a step back.

“Where’s Becca?” I scanned the room as I entered her tiny
home. Solena had mentioned babysitting, but it didn’t mean they
already had her. I’d assumed it was only Casey at home right now, but
it might not be the case. If Becca was here, I wasn’t about to send
her away.

“She’s sleeping at Dad’s tonight. Now I know why he took
her.” She patted my arm. “I really appreciate you wanting to
take me out for my birthday. I’m sorry I’m not up for
it.”

“It’s your day, Casey. Which means we do whatever you want.
Looks to me like you need some help around here more than you need dinner
and a movie. Although, there’s no reason we can’t still do that
right here.” I rolled up my shirt sleeves. She could relax while I
cleaned, cooked, and prepared a special night for her.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked.

“Go take a hot bath or a nap. Your choice. I’ll pick up around
here and get dinner going. Any requests?” I asked.

“No. Anything is fine.” She paused before going into her room.
“Solena brought over a cake this morning. We can have some for
dessert. It has fruit filling and whipped frosting.”

“Already had some?” I smiled, picturing her digging into the
cake. Her cheeks flushed, and she nodded. So damn cute. “Go relax.
I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

I picked up what little trash I found in the main living areas, emptied her
kitchen garbage can, loaded the dishwasher, and dug through the cabinets to
figure out what I’d cook. I’d just preheated the oven when my
phone started vibrating in my pocket. I’d turned the ringer off, not
wanting anyone to disturb my time with Casey.

Wire’s name flashed across the screen, and I knew I needed to take
the call.

“Find something?” I asked. It had been months, and so far,
neither he nor Lavender had dug up anything. Except they said the
guy’s record was too clean, as in it had been doctored by
someone.

“Maybe. We know who his closest friends were back then. They
aren’t quite as clean as Casey’s ex. One is currently doing time
for rape. Another left the country, and the third is still in the same town
as Casey’s ex. They have a beer together at least once a
week.”

“That’s all?” I asked.

“Lavender has an idea who cleaned the kid’s records. If she can
get in touch with the hacker responsible, and feel him out, we might be able
to put a few pieces of the puzzle together. Just don’t hold your
breath.”

I whistled. “Man, you mean to tell me there’s something the two
of you can’t do? I’m in shock right now.”

“Shut it, fucker. We aren’t getting any younger, and some of
the fresh blood out there is nearly as good as we were at their age. Give
them time, and a few might surpass us.”

“Keep me posted. It’s her eighteenth birthday today, so
I’m at her place making dinner. If I don’t answer, I’ll
call back when I can.”

“Understood.”

I ended the call and put my phone away before working on dinner again.
I’d found bell pepper and onion in the fridge, as well as hamburger
meat and shredded cheese. While Casey didn’t seem to have any taco
shells, I’d found some taco bowls. I baked them in the oven while I
browned the meat and veggies, seasoning it enough to add some flavor without
making it too strong for Casey. Cilantro lime rice was the next thing to
start. Dinner might not be fancy, but I knew it was something she liked,
since I’d made it for her before. Unless she’d lied to spare my
feelings. Too late to worry about it now.

Once everything was done, I set the table and called out to her.

“Casey, dinner is done.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said.

I hadn’t realized she’d come out of her room and gone into the
bathroom until I heard the water sloshing before the sound of the tub
draining. I cleared my throat and adjusted myself. The thought of her
standing just one room away, and naked, had my cock’s full attention.
Last thing I needed was to sport wood when she came out of there. She might
very well run screaming from the house.

Since I’d never cared much for sweet tea, Casey always kept some soda
stocked. She’d offered to keep beer in the fridge for the times I
dropped by, but I wasn’t a big drinker. Not to mention I didn’t
want to drink around Becca. My brother had driven his car off the side of a
winding highway, down an embankment, and into the ocean. He’d been
drunk off his ass and the accident had kept me from alcohol for a long time.
I had the occasional drink with my club brothers, but it didn’t happen
often.

I set out a soda for me and a glass of tea for Casey. She came to the table
wearing an off-the-shoulder top and leggings. Barefoot. The woman was
driving me crazy, and she wasn’t even trying.

About the Author

Harley Wylde is an International Bestselling Author of MC Romances. 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.

Author’s Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook: @harleywylde

Author on Twitter: @HarleyW_Writer

Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress

 

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TEASER TUESDAY: Giant’s Garden by Siondalin O’Craig #DarkFantasy #Suspense

 

(Celtic Magic, Book 4)

 

Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Romance,
Suspense, Urban Fantasy

Date Published: June 16, 2023


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A grant to do doctorate work in a bleak corner of Northern Ireland is Penny
Gallagher’s last chance to find her wings and break free of her
oppressive industrialist boyfriend.

When she finds her time there has been engineered for her boyfriend’s
profit, it takes a voiceless giant of a man to help her discover her own
magic.

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2023 Siondalin O’Craig

 

Penny

The Giant’s Causeway

Sean Feeney took another long drag from his pocket flask. Heavy gold chains
around his wrist grated against the flask’s metal rim. Penny Gallagher
watched him sway unsteadily in his skinny designer jeans and black Converse
high tops.

He reached out and draped his bony arm around her shoulders. She
couldn’t tell whether it was to keep himself from falling over or an
awkward maneuver meant to be making a pass at her.

She hoped it was the latter. First off, they were standing at the top of a
cliff. Not just any cliff, but a bare, windswept cliff tumbled with black
hexagonal stone columns jutting out into the North Channel of the Irish Sea
between the north coast of Ireland and the west coast of Scotland. If Sean
dropped onto those lichen-pocked rocks it would mean a fatal mess involving
a lot of paperwork and long, dim conversations with uniformed authorities.
And if I fell… no, she told herself firmly, we’re not going
down that line of thinking right now.

Secondly, she hadn’t gotten laid since James Carbill threw her over
six months ago for some new interior designer he had fallen for. And to tell
the truth, she had not been laid decently for months before that.
James’s steel-blue eyes had started wandering elsewhere long before
that ugly day when he’d told her that she needed to move out of the
Beacon Hill apartment he had been keeping her in, and that both of her
positions — as his personal assistant, and as his sexual partner and dinner
party arm candy — were terminated effective immediately.

James had softened the blow a bit by pulling some strings to secure this
grant so she could finish her doctorate degree in psychology from
Boston’s Fauntel University, and that’s how she wound up
standing on top of a windy cliff, watching Sean’s long, shaggy blond
hair blow into his eyes, which were fixed vacantly on the horizon.

She reached up to her shoulder and twined the fingers of her right hand
with Sean’s, hoping to lower the odds that they’d both go off
the cliff. The smell of salt spray on stone mingled with alcohol fumes. She
reached for his flask with her left.

“Give me a hit of that,” she said, raising her voice over the
wind. “You can’t have all the fun yourself.”

He handed her the flask absent-mindedly, its cap dangling from a little
silver chain. She took a swig. Smoky, peaty whiskey seeped into her tongue
and the flesh of her throat, straight into her bloodstream. She would swear
it never even hit her stomach.

“All this,” Sean said, gesturing broadly with a wobbling sweep
of his arm. Penny braced her feet, but they did not topple over. “When
you write your… your… thing.”

“My thesis.”

“Your thee, your thing. On all this. You’ll make millions of
dollars. We’ll all make millions of dollars. Because everyone will
want it.”

Penny took another hit of the whiskey. It felt mellower this time, as if
she and the whiskey were getting acquainted. “No one ever made
millions of dollars on their psychology doctorate thesis,” she
said.

“Oh, but you will.” Sean turned around, his face close to hers,
and poked her hard in the chest with the point of his index finger.
“You will. I will. Everyone will. Because this,” he swept his
arm out again along the horizon, “this is the Giant’s Causeway.
You’ll write about why it makes people feel so good — you feel good,
right?”

Penny nodded skeptically. He didn’t wait for her response before
rambling on.

“Because it makes people feel so good that they will all want to live
here, and I’m selling my land to the American developer who will give
them all a place to live. And everyone else will too. Just as soon as you
are done.”

Penny smirked and shook her head. It’s true that her doctorate
proposal had talked about the intersection of landscape and psychology, and
the grant that James had helped her secure had sent her to this bleak,
forsaken, vertical drop-off to write about it. But in point of fact, she had
not yet started writing, and now that she was here, she could not for her
life figure out what to write about.

“Sean, you handsome devil,” she said. “It’s a pile
of rocks.” Basalt, she noted to herself, recalling one of the
guidebooks she’d read on the plane. Lava from a volcanic episode,
cooled slowly, formed hexagonal columns. Why do people find the myths more
interesting than the science?

 

 

About the Author

 Siondalin O’Craig writes romance with the slow burn of a peat fire on
an autumn night deep in the woodland hills. Sip a glass of Irish whiskey,
turn the page, and let the magic overtake you. Siondalin lives in the
mountains of New England where she walks under the trees celebrating the
wheel of the year, grows a luscious garden full of magical herbs, and plays
a wicked Irish fiddle. Follow her on Facebook and email her at
siondalinocraig@gmail.com to sign up for her newsletter.

Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress

 

 

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

Iron Tzars MC, Book 4

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: May 12, 2023

 

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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

 

Dark Fantasy, LGBTQ, Paranormal Romance

Date Published: May 5, 2023

 

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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

Dark Fantasy & BDSM

Date Published: April 21, 2023

 

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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

 

 

Pre-Order Now

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

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

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

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?

Get it NOW at Changeling Press

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.

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