BOOK BLITZ: In Flight by K.R. Collins

Title: In Flight

Series: Sophie Fournier, Book Eight

Author: K.R. Collins

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/18/2025

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 74100

Genre: Contemporary, Romance, contemporary, sports, family-drama, lesbian, ice hockey

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Description

As she enters her ninth season in the North American Hockey League, Sophie’s pressure on herself to perform well has never been higher. Next season will mark a decade as the first woman in the League, a milestone no one will let her forget, especially as her expected replacement will be old enough to be drafted herself.

Sophie has the support of Coach Elison and her team behind her. She has come into her own on the ice as the captain and face of the Concord Condors. Off the ice, her life is looking good as well. She and Elsa are living together with plans to build a home, provided Concord signs them to contract extensions.

As always, though, it isn’t enough. Sophie has her eyes set on the Maple Cup, the trophy given to the best hockey team each year. She has all the motivation she needs—a contract to live up to, a personal hockey hero on the team who has never lifted the Cup before, and a need to prove herself, again, before Emily Skelton is drafted and takes the League by storm.

Excerpt

In Flight
K.R. Collins © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Sophie greets Armand Mason with a smile and a brief handshake. Mason is a middle-aged man with dark skin and even darker hair. He wears a green button-down, but the sleeves are rolled to his elbows in deference to the summer heat.

His grip is firm but not overpowering. He has callouses on his hands, in different places than Sophie does. She suspects his are from holding pencils or, maybe in this modern age, a tablet stylus. Sophie’s callouses are from gripping her hockey stick and from all the weightlifting she does.

Elsa shakes Armand’s hand next. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” she says.

Elsa, who normally only has a scant few inches on Sophie, has closer to four today, because she’s wearing wedge sandals. They’re open-toed to show off her lime-green toenail polish. The color clashes with Elsa’s dress, a light-pink halter-top. The green-pink combination reminds Sophie of watermelon, but she’s smart enough not to mention it to Elsa.

While her girlfriend—and that’s still a thrill, thinking of Elsa as her girlfriend—is understanding of Sophie and her quirks, Sophie doubts that will extend to being compared to a watermelon.

Sophie doesn’t wear a sundress like Elsa or business casual like Armand. She wears black capri leggings and a black T-shirt boasting her team’s name and logo.

The Concord Condors are New Hampshire’s North American Hockey League team. Their logo is a condor with its wings stretched wide and a hockey stick clutched in its talons. Concord was one of the newest teams to be added to the league. The NAHL decided New England could support two teams, one in Boston and one in Concord, and that the proximity would create a rivalry which would sell tickets.

In the early years, there wasn’t much of a rivalry. Concord was where Boston fans went because the tickets were cheaper. Now, though, Concord is a proper NAHL team. They have a Maple Cup to their name, having won hockey’s most coveted prize in Sophie’s third season. She hasn’t managed to do it again, but she has a good feeling about this year.

Sophie gestures for Armand to sit at the booth she and Elsa picked out at the coffee shop. She and Elsa sit side by side opposite him. This year is going to be a good one, for many reasons. Yes, Sophie is chasing the Cup again, something she will do every year she’s still playing in the NAHL, but there are other things she’s focused on.

She has a girlfriend to take out on dates. She has a contract negotiation she wants done with before the summer is over. She has plans to go to Sweden with Elsa, then for Elsa to visit Sophie in Thunder Bay.

And, of course, she has this meeting with Armand Mason, a local architect.

Sophie and Elsa plan to sign contract extensions this summer, the two of them committing to Concord for as many years as they can. They’ve already committed to each other, for more than the eight or ten years their hockey contracts will last. Another declaration of their intent is this: planning a house together.

They’re going to build their dream house. They’ll have enough bedrooms for when their respective families come to visit or for when their teammates need a place to crash. They’ll have a sleek, modern kitchen where Sophie can cook when she has the energy and heat up team-prepared meals when she doesn’t. They’ll have an open living room with enough seating to host their teammates.

It will be perfect, and Armand is going to help them make it happen.

“Are congratulations in order?” Armand asks with a glance between them.

It isn’t an unfair guess, and Sophie feels a twinge of guilt for lying to him, for using him, as she smiles and says, “Not yet. We’re hoping by the end of the summer to have ironed out our new contracts. Once the ink is dried, we can begin building, but we wanted to start planning ahead of time. We think it will go well.”

Armand’s surprise morphs into a polite smile.

Sophie knows the assumptions people will make about her and Elsa. They see them together and think they’re a couple. They are a couple, but Sophie doesn’t want the wider world to know. So few things in her life are allowed to be hers, are private, that she clings to this one.

She was the first woman drafted into the NAHL. It means she’s been the first for a lot of milestones in the league. She is the face of her franchise, and in some ways she’s the face of the league. It’s a lot of responsibility, and she accepts that it’s part of the price of entrance.

She doesn’t want to be the first hockey player to openly date their teammate. She doesn’t want the pressure or the attention or the people who will dig into every detail of her life. She values her privacy. Even more, she values her relationship with Elsa, and she doesn’t want to constantly defend it against people trying to twist it into something bad.

Armand won’t be the only person to make assumptions based on Sophie and Elsa planning a house together, but there won’t be a lot of people like him, either. For most of the hockey world, Sophie and Elsa are simply Sophie and Elsa. They shared an apartment in Elsa’s first season in Concord, and they’ve shared a house every season since. There was a brief time when Elsa moved in with a boyfriend, but she was back with Sophie the next season.

Their relationship is teammates being teammates. Sophie is happy to feed into the misdirection, because it allows her to protect what’s most important to her. She and Elsa will plan their house, and pictures will leak from today’s meeting. The two of them will train with each other, first in Sweden then in Thunder Bay. At some point, they’ll sit down with Concord’s front office and sign matching contracts.

It isn’t the first time Sophie has spun a narrative. It is, by far, the largest scale deception she’s ever undertaken. Part of her feels guilty for it. There aren’t many out athletes, and this is an opportunity for her to be a role model and a spokesperson. The thought of it exhausts her. Maybe, it’s selfish. Or maybe, it’s self-preservation. She isn’t sure. She’ll bring it up with Dr. Malone in her next therapy appointment. For now, though, her relationship with Elsa is a well-guarded secret.

Elsa’s immediate family knows, and Sophie’s brother knows. Soon, Sophie will have to tell her parents, but she doesn’t intend to tell anyone else. Concord’s front office won’t be told, her teammates won’t be told. One day, she’ll tell a wider audience, either because it leaks or because she’s ready to, but she isn’t ready now. And Elsa isn’t pressuring her.

“We’d like to stay within a thirty-minute drive of Concord,” Sophie tells Armand once they each have their beverage of choice. Sophie has a smoothie which has too much sugar to be healthy, but there’s fruit in it so she can pretend.

Elsa doesn’t even make that small effort. Her iced coffee has several syrup shots and a tall spiral of whipped cream. It’s a toothache in a cup, but Elsa’s happy with it so Sophie doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know if that limits what we can do,” Sophie adds because Armand is their architect, not their realtor.

“Are you looking to build a large house?” Armand asks.

“No,” Elsa answers, and she grins at Sophie’s look. “He’s thinking McMansion. We want space, but not that much.”

Armand smiles and ducks his head, almost bashful. “Large isn’t exactly a precise word.”

“A little bigger than what we have now,” Sophie says. She slides the pictures and specs of their current house across the table.

The house is a good size for them, but its true benefit is the attached in-law apartment. It’s the perfect place for their respective families to stay when they visit. They’re close enough to see, but there’s enough separation that Sophie and Elsa don’t feel crowded. Would it be weird to have two in-law apartments in their future house?

“The biggest upgrade will be in the size of the yard,” Elsa says. “We’re looking to put in a saltwater pool.”

“We aren’t,” Sophie says. She tries to frown at Elsa’s impish look, but Elsa’s too pleased with herself for Sophie to hold out for very long. They have playfully argued about their pool since they first considered the idea of building a house.

Elsa wants something whimsical and impractical, a saltwater pool with a grotto and a waterfall. Sophie thinks if she’s going to have a pool, it should be a lap pool, something with purpose. Unlike their disagreement over toasters, which was solved by buying two, Sophie doesn’t think this one will be solved by having a pool for each of their preferences.

Armand laughs at their antics and sips his tea before he pulls out a blank piece of paper. “Let’s make a list. No judgements yet, anything and everything you might want. Next session, we can whittle it down based on practicality and preference.”

“All right,” Sophie says.

Her life is measured in milestones; from leagues she’s broken into to hockey achievements, even to things like her first car, her first apartment lease, her first house. This is another milestone, planning a house with the woman she wants to live with for the rest of her life.

Under the table, where no one will see, Sophie reaches for Elsa’s hand. Elsa meets her halfway, and they lace their fingers together.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

K.R. Collins went to college in Pennsylvania where she learned to write and fell in love with hockey. When she isn’t working or writing, she watches hockey games and claims it’s for research. Find K.R. on Twitter.

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BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: A Family with the Cowboy by Elsa Winckler

When a single dad and his son’s teacher clash, sparks fly and it’s not only because his son is neglecting his chores to read.

A Family With the Cowboy

The Westons of Montana Book 1

by Elsa Winckler

Genre:
Contemporary Small-Town Romance

Widowed rancher Hayden Weston knows what it means to be responsible for his siblings, his eight-year-old son, and the running of the huge family cattle ranch. Some even
call him a stern and grumpy taskmaster and they’re not exactly wrong. So when
Hayden discovers his son reading a storybook instead of doing chores, he calls
on Luke’s teacher to talk about priorities.

School teacher Laura Anderson is new to Marietta, Montana, and has never—until now—been reprimanded for encouraging a child to read. It doesn’t help that
sweet Luke’s father is the handsome cowboy with the amber eyes that she met in
Grey’s Saloon, or that she’s wildly attracted to him.

Sparks keep flying as their paths keep crossing, but Hayden is determined not to give in to
his incomprehensible need to have, hold, and protect Laura from any type of
harm. He’s the one who’ll hurt her if he lets her stray too
close. He’s not ready to admit his feelings or commit to sharing his life with
her.

Even if love comes tumbling in.

Amazon * B&N * Apple * Google * Kobo * Bookbub * Goodreads

Can you, for those who don’t know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author?

I did a teaching diploma after school, stayed at home for ten years while our kids were small before going back to work. While I was working as an administrator in the English Department of a nearby university, I was inspired to study again. I was forty. I got an Honors degree in English and also did a MPhil in Document Analyses and Design, thinking that it was something I could do when I retire. But then I entered a magazine competition looking for romance authors way back in 2008 and was fortunate enough to be the winner. The prize was the publication of my first book – I was hooked. Growing up, my mother was an avid romance reader and there were always stacks of love stories in the house, particularly stacks of Mills & Boons. I literally read thousands of them.

I met Jane Porter from Tule Publishing when she visited ROSA (The Romance Writers Organization of South Africa) in 2016. Afterwards I sent her a manuscript, she liked it and since then I’ve published seven books with Tule – an extraordinary team of women. I count myself extremely fortunate to be able work with them.

I’m married to my college boyfriend who is also my best friend and my soulmate. We have three grown-up kids who have long since left the house and are each doing their bit to make this world a better place. We are so proud of them and are blessed with four grandkids who are just growing up way too fast.

I mostly write in Afrikaans and have around seventy books published by various publishers in South Africa. I have also written two children’s stories.

What is something unique/quirky about you?

 I’m an introvert, something I’ve only discovered when I was much older. I like people and I’m blessed with a a circle of close friends, but I need to be alone to re-charge. I can’t do late nights, for instance, by ten my battery is flat!

I’m no chef but I love to cook for the people I love and nothing gives me more pleasure than to have our whole family around a table.

Where were you born/grew up at?

 I was born in a small town called Upington in South Africa. As kids we swam in the Orange River and went camping in the Kalahari Desert.

If you knew you’d die tomorrow, how would you spend your last day?

With my husband, our children and grandchildren, of course. Around a table, eating and telling stories.

What kind of world ruler would you be?

 I’ll put women in charge of education, hospitals and the police. Start from the ground up, teach children respect before anything else and let kids play. A lot.

What do you do to unwind and relax?

 I read, go for long walks, knit or crochet. I’m fortunate enough to have a very special group of women I can call friends. Visiting them always makes my heart sing. We’ve known each other for such a long time. We have a Whatsapp group and during tough times, we rely on each other to help us carry whatever burden we have. During Covid, especially, it was a kind of lifeline. We shared recipes for bread, for food, books we’ve read and sometimes just something silly that has happened. It was a wonderful way to keep our spirits up,

Describe yourself in 5 words or less!

 Disciplined, dedicated, passionate, impatient, a sucker for a story or movie with a happy ending.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

 After about twenty books J

Do you have a favorite movie?

 Pretty woman

Which of your novels can you imagine made into a movie?

 A family with the cowboy! Liam Hemsworth would make a very sexy Hayden Weston and Brie Larson would make a lovely Laura.

As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?

 A leopard. They are solitary animals and like to walk alone. As hopeless introvert, I can relate.

I have been reading love stories for as long as I can remember and
when I ‘met’ the classic authors like Jane Austen, Elizabeth Gaskell, Henry
James The Brontë sisters, etc. during my Honours studies, I was hooked for
life. I married my college boyfriend and soul mate and after 47 years, 3
interesting and wonderful children and 4 beautiful grandchildren, he still
makes me weak in the knees. We are fortunate to live in the picturesque little
seaside village of Betty’s Bay, South Africa with the ocean a block away and a
beautiful mountain right behind us. And although life so far has not always
been an easy ride, it has always been an exciting and interesting one! I like
the heroines in my stories to be beautiful, feisty, independent and headstrong.
And the heroes must be strong but possess a generous amount of sensitivity.
They are of course, also gorgeous! My stories typically incorporate the family
background of the characters to better understand where they come from and who
they are when we meet them in the story.

Website * Facebook * X * Instagram
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Bluesky * Bookbub *
Amazon * Goodreads

Follow the tour HERE for special content
and a giveaway!

 

$10 Amazon giftcard,

ebook of My Montana Valentine by Elsa Winckler

-1 winner each!

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TEASER TUESDAY: Archangel by Marteeka Karland

 

(Black Reign MC 11)

A Bones MC Romance

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: February 21, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press


 

Archangel is always perfect. In complete control. Which makes him a
challenge I can’t resist…


Sonya: Just because I put a blow-up doll in the neighbor’s holiday
yard ornament, or send various embarrassing items up the flagpole
occasionally, doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. But my father
doesn’t see things that way. So he sends me to a man he thinks can
help me “find my inner self.” Otherwise known as get some kind
of job. Just my luck, the man he sends me to is the man I’ve had a
crush on forever. Archangel is strong, soft-spoken, always in control, and
the most perfectly made man I’d ever seen. He’s unflappable. I
can’t resist, even knowing the price I’ll pay. I just hope I can
slink the walk of shame back home before he knows I’m gone. That might
be the only chance I have of protecting my heart.

Archangel: I don’t know what Thorn was thinking when he sent his
daughter to me. Sonya has plagued my every filthy fantasy since the first
time she came home from college to visit friends at my club. I’d known
then I needed to stay away from her. Not only am I way too old for her, but
her daddy is the president of their club. Which puts me and Black Reign MC
in a delicate position. What I could never have predicted was Sonya taking
matters into her own hands. Sonya running isn’t a surprising. Kinda
expected that. What wasn’t on my Bingo card was my forgotten past
catching up with me.

 

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Marteeka Karland

 

Two blocks down, I saw a big, black Harley heading our way. Even from this
distance the roar of the pipes was distinctive. And I knew the sound well. A
dense trail of smoke had covered the four lanes from where one of the
residences was burning a small pile of brush. Just like in the movies, the
big Harley I’d known was attached to that rumble parted the haze with
smoke circling behind him like a jet trail. The man sitting on the bike was
just as intimidating as the machine. All the scene needed was a slow-motion
sequence and it would be perfect.

Archangel. He was the most unflappable man I’d ever met. There was an
eerie calm surrounding him most of the time. Sure, he laughed and had a good
time like anyone else, but he was the peacemaker. The person everyone called
when they didn’t want El Diablo or El Segador to take up the cause.
More than once, I’d heard Archangel make the statement you knew when
you had a successful negotiation because neither party was completely
satisfied. He didn’t play favorites, and he was always fair, but the
man had a giant stick up his ass the size of a telephone pole.

He crossed across two lanes of traffic at the corner to pull into the
parking lot of the courthouse, not even hesitating at the light as he did.
Brazen, considering where he was, and that three deputies and two city cops
were sitting close by. He parked the bike in front of Lawdawg’s truck
before turning it off and putting down the kickstand. A long, thickly
muscled leg was lifted over the seat as Archangel dismounted and walked
toward the truck and Lawdawg.

I knew there was drool dripping from the corner of my mouth, but I
didn’t fucking care. Archangel was the most perfectly built man
I’d ever had the pleasure of viewing. No matter how many times I saw
him, he was still awe-inspiring. If anyone saw me, all I had to do was point
at the man and any red-blooded woman on the planet who looked would
understand. He wore snug, black jeans. The material clung to his hips and
thighs in all the right places. He didn’t have on a shirt, but his
plain, leather vest covered most of his rippled torso. Which left his arms
bare, and a sliver of chest and abdomen showing when he walked. Muscles and
thick veins roped his arms. Tattoos peeked from his vest and crept up his
arms. His salt-and-pepper hair was over his collar but artfully shaggy, and
his beard was full and neatly trimmed. Mirrored aviator sunglasses rounded
out his outfit. The man rocked it like the ultimate bad boy.

“Hoooooly shit. Are you seeing this?” Linnie sounded in awe and
I glanced at her sharply.

“What the shit, Linnie, you whore!” I wasn’t really mad.
This was how we communicated.

“What?” She didn’t take her gaze from Archangel and the
question was more of a demand. “Tell me you weren’t eye fucking
him too and I’ll be ashamed. Or something. OK. No, I won’t be
ashamed, but look me in the eyes and tell me you weren’t eye fucking
him. Besides, we always eye fuck him together.”

“I’d love to. But I’m too busy eye fucking him to look
you in the eyes and tell you I’m not eye fucking him. Because
I’m eye fucking him like crazy. Also, I’ve changed my mind. We
can’t eye fuck him together anymore.”

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Sonya. If you change your mind
and decide he’s too much work, let me know. I’ll give it a
shot.”

“Like hell.” I turned and hissed at my friend.
“Mine.”

“You know he’s so much older than you as to not be believed,
right? The man is practically ancient!”

“Red and Rosana have more of an age gap than me and
Archangel.”

“Right. Use their successful age gap relationship to justify your
own. I’m sure it will go over with your dad as well as it would with
my own father.” She had a point.

“Why’s he here, I wonder?”

“Don’t know, Sonya, but if the look on his face is any
indication, the reason can’t be good.”

Whatever was being said between Archangel and Lawdawg seemed to have gotten
under Archangel’s skin. He snatched his glasses from his face and
leaned into Lawdawg’s space. His lips moved, but I couldn’t tell
what he was saying. Mainly because Archangel had his teeth clenched. Lawdawg
shrugged and jerked his head toward the truck where we sat and watched them
from the back seat.

Archangel turned his head to look at the truck and us. Lawdawg spoke,
gesturing with his hands a couple of times while Archangel continued to
stare.

Finally, he nodded, and stepped away from Lawdawg, moving toward the truck.
Archangel came to my side and opened the door. “Come on. Out with
ya.” When I hesitated, he added. “Or I’ll haul you out
over my shoulder. Choice is yours.” Though his eyes looked like he was
furious, his face was relaxed and his voice was calm.

“What crawled up your ass?” The only person in the world I
loved pushing more than Lawdawg was Archangel. Probably because both men
were so naturally uptight yet unflappable. Anyone who followed the rules so
close to the edge should feel anxious at least some of the time. Neither of
these men were. Both of them stayed true to their consciences, but when the
shit hit the fan, they were the calm, driving force behind fixing the fan
and cleaning up the shit.

“When I’m called an hour and a half away to take a young woman
in hand who’s acting like a spoiled teenager, it tends to eat away at
my social niceties.”

“Look, you don’t want my company, I’ll happily catch a
ride back with Linnie and Talia. I’m not sure why anyone called you to
begin with. I don’t belong to your club.”

“No. You don’t, thank God, but your daddy thinks you need a
come-to-Jesus meeting about what you’re gonna do with your life. I owe
him one, so I got drafted.”

I blinked. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Afraid not, Sonya. Now, come with me. We’ve got a long ride
ahead. You can rest tonight, but tomorrow we’re going to sit down and
figure out your next steps in life.”

“Oh really.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “What if I
don’t want to talk with you about my future? I happen to like my life
the way it is.”

“And that’d be great. Except for stunts like this.” When
I would have continued to argue with him, Archangel snagged my upper arm and
pulled me with him to his bike. His hold wasn’t painful, but it was
clear he wouldn’t tolerate me trying to get away from him.

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double
life as an erotic romance author 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.

Contact Links

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

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

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RABT Book Tours & PR

TEASER TUESDAY: Razor (Hounds of Hell MC) by Jamie Targaet

Hounds of Hell MC (#6)

MC Romance

Date Published: 2/7/2025

Publisher: Changeling Press


 

She’s a spark I never saw coming, in a fight I can’t afford to
lose.

 

Deva — No Mercy Ink is my sanctuary, the shop I built with my brother
Jackson. But after a string of attacks leaves him in the hospital, I’m
left to defend everything we’ve worked for. That’s when Razor
storms into my life — intimidating, loyal, and maddeningly protective.
He’s everything I’ve avoided in a man, yet I can’t deny
the pull between us. But as danger closes in, it’s clear Victor
Grayson and his crew will stop at nothing to destroy us. Razor swears
he’ll keep me safe, but how can I trust him with my heart when my
survival demands I protect myself?

Razor — Leading the Hounds of Hell means protecting my family at any cost.
When Deva’s world collides with mine, she’s more than just a
mission — she’s a fire I can’t extinguish. Fierce, stubborn,
and utterly captivating, she’s determined to fight for her shop, even
if it puts her in Grayson’s crosshairs. But this isn’t just
about the club or Mercy anymore — it’s about her. The deeper I fall,
the higher the stakes. To win this war, I’ll have to face my past,
defend my future, and prove to Deva that she’s not just worth fighting
for — she’s worth everything.

 

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Jamie Targaet

 

Deva

Zipping the front of her coat against the bitter cold wind of January, Deva
Crane climbed out of her SUV. After slinging her backpack over one shoulder,
she walked from where she parked behind the building. She and her brother
Jackson had been lucky to have rented a space in the strip mall when they
did. Theirs was a corner shop in a gritty, historic part of Mercy. Dark,
graffiti-style art covered the outer wall of the building, perfect for their
vibe. Decades of imagery and symbols decorated that wall conveying
rebellion, strength, and transformation.

Deva and her brother, called Outcast by his biker brothers, had opened the
shop three years ago. She was damned proud of what they’d built. The
shop’s bold neon sign read “No Mercy Ink” in fiery red and
cool white. She liked the way the sign caught people’s eyes on gray,
rainy days, and the ominous light cast on the street outside at night. It
had been her brother’s idea to tint the windows, and it was a good
one. The lighting made the intricate tattoo designs they displayed there
stand out, giving passersby a taste of the artistry within while maintaining
privacy. A small wrought-iron bench sat out front under the old metal awning
with a bucket that served as an ashtray, finishing the exterior — an
invitation to rest, get lost in thought, smoke a cigarette…

Deva unlocked the shop to get started with her day. As she flipped on the
light, she smiled. Inside the shop was a weird mix of her style and her
brother’s, like an odd cross between an art gallery and an old biker
bar. The walls were painted in dark, muted tones of indigo and slate gray.
There were metal accents and hints of exposed brick lending an authentically
rough vibe to their studio. Framed tattoo flash, custom designs, and photos
of some of their best works hung on the walls.

The waiting area in the front had metal stools and a weathered leather sofa
bought from thrift stores. She placed their high-end aftercare products and
branded merch in a glass display case there. No Mercy Ink was stamped on
everything from leather jackets to T-shirts and trucker hats.

Their tattoo stations were further in, separated by worn steel dividers,
offering their clients a little more privacy. There were three stations. One
was hers, one was Jackson’s, and a third that she hoped to fill one
day with another hired artist. They just needed to get their profit margin a
little higher to finally pull that off. Each station had a tattoo chair, a
tool cabinet, and an adjustable lighting rig. The workstations were well
organized with tattoo machines, bottles of ink, and sterilized needles. The
presentation was important to her because it showed their pride in their
craft. Jackson usually kept his area bare bones, all except for a photo of a
phoenix tattoo that he kept there. It was odd because she was pretty sure it
wasn’t his work. Her station had warmer lighting and a few plants,
reflecting her creative style.

Her goal had been to work on paying bills this morning, since she had no
appointments scheduled today. Business off the street didn’t pick up
until lunchtime or after. But suddenly the door sensor triggered the low
rumbling sound of a chopper engine that Jackson assured her would be so
cool. At first, she’d begrudgingly tolerated it. Over time, she came
to love the rumble of the sensor. Still, Deva had to wonder who was
there.

It was a familiar-looking young woman Deva couldn’t quite place, with
long, red curls and big eyes who stood in the waiting area, looking more
unnerved than excited. Her dark winter coat reached her knees and had a faux
fur-lined hood that she eased back. A tattoo virgin? Deva smiled when the
woman’s gaze found her.

“Hi, there,” Deva said. “Can I help you?”

A flush of color brightened the young woman’s face — no one blushed
quite like a natural redhead — and she nodded. “Yes, I was hoping to
make an appointment to speak with Deva.”

“That’s me. And I’ve got a few minutes. We just opened.
Come on back.” Deva motioned for the woman to follow her, heading for
her own station. Motioning to the tattoo chair, she said, “Have a
seat.”

The woman’s green-eyed gaze took in everything before she sat down,
perching on the edge of the chair. The visitor’s emotions were
palpable, her posture hesitant. Deva waited patiently, giving her the time
and space to speak when she was ready. Whatever it was the young woman was
dealing with, it was obviously still haunting her.

“My boyfriend recommended you,” she explained.
“Axel?”

That got Deva’s attention. Axel was one of the twin enforcers of
Mercy’s chapter of the Hounds of Hell. The same MC her brother
belonged to.

“I know him,” Deva said. “My brother is Outcast. We
co-own this shop and we’re both artists here.”

A little of the tension in her pretty face eased at that. “Outcast
is… very nice.”

Deva laughed. “No, he’s not. He’s a quiet, broody
asshole, but I love him.”

The redhead smiled. “He is quiet and…” Shaking her head,
she held out a hand. “I’m Sadie Downing.”

“Sadie. Well, I’m honored that Axel sent you to me,” Deva
said. “What can I help you with?”

“I’d like to get a tattoo. To, um, cover something up.
It’s…” Sadie paused, drawing in a deep breath, then rose
from the chair instead, her movements deliberate. Shrugging off her heavy
coat, she draped it over the divider and swept her long red curls over her
left shoulder. With hesitant hands, she tugged her shirt off one shoulder,
revealing just enough for Deva to glimpse the markings. What little she
could see was enough to make her stomach twist.

With Sadie glancing over her shoulder, Deva asked, “May
I?”

At Sadie’s nod, Deva gently shifted the shirt and bra strap to reveal
the full extent of the damage. The words “Bobby’s Bitch”
were crudely carved into her skin, a brutal mark of ownership. The sight
infuriated Deva. The jagged, uneven lines spoke volumes — rage,
entitlement, and pain. It was a violation, both physical and emotional,
leaving scars that went far deeper than the skin. Just the thought of the
agony Sadie must have endured made Deva’s stomach churn.

Deva adjusted Sadie’s strap and blouse back into place with care.
Sinking into the chair, Sadie swiped at the tears spilling down her cheeks.
Deva reached for the box of tissues on the counter, handing her one. It took
every ounce of control Deva had not to cry alongside her.

“I’m… sorry,” Sadie said, her voice trembling as
she dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. “Axel thought maybe there was
a way to cover it up. It’s not that he’s bothered by it —
he’s actually been so kind. It’s just…” Her voice
trailed off, unable to finish, the weight of her pain and vulnerability
hanging heavy in the air.

“You want to reclaim that part of you,” Deva said simply.

“Yes.” Sadie nodded. “I’m sure that’s so bad
that there’s probably not a lot you can do but…”

“There’s plenty we can do to cover that,” Deva assured
her. “I get a lot of requests to cover old wounds and scars these
days. It’s a specialty of mine.”

Sadie’s eyes widened, flashing hope. “You can?”

Deva nodded and reached beneath the counter to retrieve a photo album. She
flipped it open to a specific section, her fingers brushing over the pages
with care. Positioning the album on her lap, she turned it so Sadie could
see the images through the protective clear plastic sheets.

“Most of these are cover-ups for cutting scars.” Deva gestured
to the first two pages, which showcased intricately tattooed inner forearms.
The designs were bold yet delicate, turning painful memories into something
personal, meaningful. “But not all,” Deva added, flipping
through the rest of the pages. The other photos featured stunning tattoos
covering hips, thighs, and backs — art meant to reclaim and
transform.

 

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.

Author Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Amazon

Author’s Website

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

Pre-Order Today


RABT Book Tours & PR

PREORDER BLITZ: Crash by Jamie Targaet

(Hounds of Hell MC 5)

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: December 13, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press


 

She vanished once, leaving scars I can’t forget. Now she’s back,
hiding secrets I may never forgive.

Helena — Returning to Mercy was supposed to be a fresh start. As a
therapist, I’ve made it my mission to help others find strength, even
when I can’t always find it for myself. But when Crash walks back into
my life, bringing all the pain and passion of our past, I know this town
holds more than just memories—it holds secrets I can’t outrun.
He’s fierce, wounded, and the last person I thought I’d ever see again. And
while he’s still everything I want, he’s also everything I
should fear. Especially when he finds out what I’m hiding.

Crash — The Hounds of Hell gave me purpose when I had nothing but
rage. My loyalty runs deeper than blood—until they betrayed me. Losing
Perry, my only brother, has made me question everything I believed about the
family I chose. But when Helena returns, the woman who vanished after one
night and still haunts my dreams, my anger flares in ways I can’t control. I
wanted answers, and now I’m in too deep. She’s hiding something,
and whatever it is, it’s tied to the pain that put me on this path.
This time, I won’t let her slip away, even if it means facing demons I
swore to bury.

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Jamie Targaet

 

Sackett’s looked like a war zone. The usual warmth of the bar, with
its smoky air and dim lights, was replaced by the stark reality of the
aftermath. Tables had been overturned, chairs had been knocked on their
sides, and glass from shattered bottles and mugs crunched beneath his boots.
The usual hum of laughter and music had been replaced by the low murmurs of
tired voices, mingling with the sirens of the police cars that had arrived.
Flashing red and blue lights from the sheriff’s cruisers parked
outside flashed through the windows to light up the walls.

Crash wiped a smear of blood from his cheek — he hadn’t even been
sure if it was his — then leaned against the pool table, scanning the room.
A few Cottonmouths were still there, milling around like vultures looking
for scraps. A few looks were exchanged with the Hounds, sizing them up even
now. But no one moved. The fight had burned itself out.

The Mafia guys, Bianchi’s men, lay scattered across the floor, their
slick jackets and nice clothes torn and stained with blood, a sharp contrast
to the ruthless image they had carried when they showed up at
Sackett’s earlier. Now defeated, because the Hounds and the
Cottonmouths had beaten the living shit out of them, they looked smaller,
stripped of the power they thought they held over everyone else in the room.
Some groaned in pain; others were unconscious. A few remained still, beaten
beyond recognition. Their guns were kicked aside, useless once the Hounds
got close enough. The authority the New Jersey fucks once commanded was
shattered, replaced by the cold realization they had underestimated the
Hounds. The mistake cost them more than just pride.

The sheriff’s deputies walked into Sackett’s and moved through
the bar, talking quietly as they assessed the damage. Sheriff Sawyer stood
near the entrance, arms crossed, his eyes cold and calculating as he spoke
with the Hounds’ president, Razor. Crash could feel the tension in the
room still buzzing like a live wire — as though the fight wasn’t
really over — just paused. With the cops’ appearance, the
Cottonmouths started making their exit. Crash knew they were looking for an
excuse to start something again with the Hounds, but not with the law
hanging over them.

Glancing at the overturned table near the bar where the fight had started,
Crash shook his head. The place didn’t feel like Sackett’s
anymore, not with the stench of the Cottonmouths lingering and the deputies
keeping their distance like they also weren’t convinced everything was
over.

Of course, it hadn’t felt like home for him since she had
left…

The air was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and spilled beer.
Crash’s entire being was still wired for the fight, but he forced
himself to stay calm. Sackett’s wasn’t just a bar, it was home
turf. He didn’t like sharing it with the enemy and wondered why the
fuck Razor had allowed that to happen. His gaze flicked to the last two
Cottonmouths as they walked out, part of Baby Face’s old crew,
whispering amongst themselves. It was hard not to imagine how different
things would have turned out if that psycho were still alive.

Sheriff Sawyer’s voice cut through the haze. “We’ll need
statements,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. The deputies
started herding people into groups, separating Hounds from Cottonmouths and
Mafia. There were others there even though Sawyer and his men had no idea
how they were connected to any of it.

Crash was just grateful the shit was over. He was exhausted and pretty sure
he had a couple of broken ribs. He hadn’t seen his younger brother the
entire time and he wanted to know where the hell Perry had gotten off to.
Most of all, like the rest of his brothers, he wanted the Mafia the fuck out
of Mercy for good.

Not wanting to talk to the fucking police, Crash went out the back
entrance. The cool night air hit him, a balm to flush out the bloodlust of
the last couple of hours. Closing his eyes, he savored the moment, trying to
be still.

Out behind Sackett’s in the field was an old barn that had been there
as long as he could remember. Beams of light flickered around the inside of
the old structure, telling him someone was out there. Sheriff Sawyer walked
out of the bar behind him, walking past Crash and heading in that direction.
Curious, because he hadn’t seen the twins since the middle of the
fight, he decided to follow him. After thinking about it, he hadn’t
seen Snow or Hero since then either. Even though his body ached with each
step he took, he followed the sheriff. His injuries kept him from moving too
fast.

As he drew closer, some instinct stopped him, whispering he should go back.
What the fuck?

Crash followed Sheriff Sawyer out to the barn, his heart still pounding
from the fight. The adrenaline was fading, leaving only the weight of what
had just happened. The distant hum of the sheriff’s cruiser lights
flickered through the trees. The field stretched ahead of them, the grass
damp beneath his boots, and in the distance, the barn loomed — an old,
forgotten relic that suddenly felt heavy with meaning.

As he got closer, the shadows around the barn seemed to thicken, the
structure barely illuminated by the glow of the sheriff’s flashlight.
The door hung slightly ajar, swinging gently with the breeze, creaking like
something out of a nightmare. The air felt different, heavier, and every
step closer sent a chill down Crash’s spine. He stopped, a sense of
foreboding threatening to overwhelm him. Was it an aftereffect of the fight?
Was he tired enough for his mind to play tricks on him?

Hearing the sheriff’s booming voice pulled him out of his head. Other
deputies ran past him, darting into the barn. The sheriff walked back out
with Margot Donner. Crash fucking knew she’d show up. Yeah, she was
one of Sawyer’s deputies, but she also was with Ryder now. Perry told
him he hoped Ryder would broom her fast, like he did all the other girls he
went around with, but Crash defended her. Maybe it was because she let him
go without a speeding ticket one night… and he’d certainly
deserved it. As far as he could tell, Ryder was different with her. If she
made their brother happy, what the fuck business was it of theirs?

Margot walked back in. Neither Margot nor Sawyer saw him as he reached the
barn. Hero was walking out with Jade as Crash reached the entrance, and she
was in tears. Hero’s eyes widened in alarm.

 

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.

 

Author Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Amazon

Author’s Website

 

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

 

 

Pre-Order Today


RABT Book Tours & PR

BOOK TOUR: The Forgotten One by Catherine Bybee

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bybee spins a dazzling tale of long-lost relatives, overnight riches, and unexpected romance in the dramatic second book of The Heirs series.

Sarah McNeilly is a rare find in the tabloid industry. She won’t ignite gossip. She finds the truth. And for once, that’s what her boss wants. With her job on the line, Sarah’s latest assignment is to identify the elusive “Maximillian Smith,” unearth his connection to the billionaire Stone family, and dig up some dirt.

Yesterday Max was an ordinary working man, concerned with little more than the price of gas. Now he suddenly has a family, jaw-dropping wealth, and an avid (if clumsy) reporter on his trail. With the press threatening to destroy his new life, he needs to release his real story strategically, and Sarah is the key—not to mention an adorable yet invaluable resource for finding his mother.

As Max and Sarah team up to peel back the ugly layers of Max’s past, they stumble heart-first into their fiery attraction. But when their research threatens their newly built trust, it’s their future that is on the line.

Read book one in The Heirs series, All Our Tomorrows, available now on #kindleunlimited.

BUY LINKS

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/theforgottenone

Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/theforgottenone-bn

Books-a-Million: https://tinyurl.com/theforgottenone-bam

Add to your Goodreads TBR →  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/210670792-the-forgotten-one

AUTHOR BIO

New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bybee has written over forty books that have collectively sold more than eleven million copies. Her titles have been translated into more than twenty languages. Raised in Washington State, Bybee moved to Southern California in the hope of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full time and has penned the popular Not Quite, Weekday Brides, Most Likely To, and First Wives series.

AUTHOR LINKS

Website: https://catherinebybee.com/

Newsletter: https://tinyurl.com/catherine-bybee-newsletter

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorCatherineBybee/

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/catherineschattycathys

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/catherinebybee/

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@catherinebybee1

Twitter: https://twitter.com/catherinebybee

COVER REVEAL: Merry with Me by Kaylee Ryan

Kaylee Ryan has revealed the cover for Merry with Me!

Releasing November 26, 2024

Blakely

When my boss tells me I’m taking over the planning of the annual Christmas gala, I can barely contain my excitement. Not only is it a huge opportunity, but I also love all things Christmas. I’m on cloud nine until I realize I have to work closely with the grumpy doctor, who is my opposite in every way. He loathes the holidays. At least that’s what he says. His eyes tell me a different story.

That’s why I make it my mission to make him fall in love with Christmas. That’s our family motto after all. I’ll make him love the holidays harder than ever before. How hard can it be?

Oliver

My contract states I have to serve on a committee. When I fail to submit which committee I’d like to work on, I’m assigned the Christmas gala. Me… the guy who detests the holiday. In years past, I let the marketing manager handle it all. I was there if she needed me. She never did. I expected more of the same this year, but it turns out, I get more than I bargained for. I didn’t anticipate her. Miss Ray of Sunshine, assistant manager.

That’s how I find myself attending holiday events and attaching myself to her any way I can. She’s trying to make me fall in love with Christmas. Instead, I’m falling in love with her.

Photographer: Regina Wamba
Cover Designer: Book Cover Boutique 

Preorder your copy today!

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/3TafAKX   

Apple Books: https://apple.co/3zfPr6u  

Nook: https://bit.ly/4g8D7Wu  

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3Tg6Pix   

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/4eaL77I 

Meet Kaylee Ryan


New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kaylee Ryan has been crowned the Queen of Swoon by her readers. With nearly fifty romance books under her belt, she’s known for penning happily ever afters with heart. When she’s not writing, you can find her with a book in her hand or hanging out with her family where she resides in her home state of Ohio.

Connect with Kaylee

Website | https://www.kayleeryan.com   

Goodreads | https://bit.ly/48lvhnl   

Amazon | https://amzn.to/3usgVnl    

Facebook | https://www.facebook.com/KayleeRyanAuthor     

Facebook Group |  https://www.facebook.com/groups/1463275720601722/     

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/kaylee_ryan_author/  

TikTok |  https://www.tiktok.com/@kayleeryanauthor    

Twitter |  https://twitter.com/Author_K_Ryan     

Bookbub |  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/kaylee-ryan     

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/authorkaylee/      

Verve Romance https://bit.ly/44hEaNm     

Newsletter |  https://www.kayleeryan.com/subscribe/     

Amazon Text Updates |  KRAMAZON to 513-854-1147 

Apple Books, Kobo, & Barnes & Noble Text Updates | KRWIDE to 513-854-1147

BOOK BLITZ: Waiting on Christmas by Tessa Grace

Waiting on Christmas by Tessa Grace is now live!

This Christmas, a billionaire’s heart will find its true home.

Hannah 

My mom’s got cancer and I’m doing the best I can to pay the bills and hold things together while she heals. But when my boss fires me from my job as a waitress in an epic form of public embarrassment, I want to crawl into a hole and never come out. That’s when I meet him.

Jack Marrow. 

He’s a billionaire with a guilty conscience, and he must be crazy because he buys me the restaurant and then leaves town. Now I have to wait an entire year to see him again. He says he only comes to Willow Harbor on Christmas, and I’m starting to wonder if God sent me an angel in disguise. 

Jack

As I watch the waitress with sad eyes get fired, I know I have to do something about it. It doesn’t hurt that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

My ‘no falling in love’ rule should hold strong with Hannah Phillips, since I only visit Willow Harbor once a year on Christmas. Surely, only seeing her once a year will be enough to keep me from falling for her.

Or will it?

It doesn’t matter anyway. Once she finds out what I’ve done, she’ll never want to see me again.

 Download today or read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3M4oju8      

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3X2RLH5 

RELEASE BLITZ: The Breaking Point by Fallon Greer

The Breaking Point  by Fallon Greer is now live!

Grace Kensington has been my secret crush since we were kids.

Though she is definitely all grown up now.

Long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and curves that could bring even the toughest hockey player to his knees. She’s the full package, too–smart, funny, and as real as they come.

One might go as far as to say perfect. Except for one tiny detail: Grace is my coach’s daughter.

And she just walked back into my life. Apparently she’s doing an internship for the team.

The last thing I should do is get close to her again.

So the plan is to keep my distance.

But that plan flies out the window the very first time we run into each other…and I’m naked in the locker room.

 Download today or read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://bit.ly/3yUYxp6  

Audible: https://adbl.co/3Bh7gmw  

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/4dknk57

Meet Fallon Greer

Fallon Greer is a twentysomething lover of romance novels, coffee, and bookish t-shirts, of which she has far too many. She lives in Miami with her Persian cat, Mortimer, who loves to sit on Fallon’s laptop when she’s trying to write.
Fallon first discovered her love of reading when she’d steal her mother’s Lisa Kleypas novels. That led her to start writing the types of books she loves to read.
When she’s not daydreaming through conversations with people and pretending to listen, she’s putting those daydreams to good use, writing novels as hot as the Florida sun.

Connect with Fallon

Website | https://fallongreer.com/     

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/fallongreerauthor/%20   

Facebook | https://www.facebook.com/people/Fallon-Greer-Author/61553397643622/

TEASER TUESDAY: Deacon (Iron Tzars MC) by Marteeka Karland

Iron Tzars MC, Book 12

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: September 27, 2024

 

 

Apple — I gave Deacon my heart, but he said I was too young. So he left.
For over a year. Didn’t want me around. Hurt and humiliated, I left
for Grim Road MC. If anyone will understand my need to hide and lick my
wounds for a while, it’ll be my sister Lemon. Of course, Lemon’s
also a royal bitch. When I get shot, first thing she does is call Deacon —
the last person I ever want to see again. Then she sicces him on the man who
ordered the hit. Not sure who I’m gonna kill first — Deacon, or
Lemon.

Deacon — All I ever wanted was to keep Apple safe. To protect her. Mostly
from me. When my president sent me to infiltrate a trafficking ring, I
gladly accepted the assignment. I thought once I was gone, Apple’d
have time to grow up. Fall in love with someone her own age. Someone better.
Then my enemies went after Apple. When Lemon tells me she’s been shot,
her call pushes me over the edge. Now, I’m going to unleash hell.
Maybe then, Apple will forgive me for pushing her away.

 

EXCERPT

“I don’t want to wait, Deacon,” I whispered. “Not
anymore.”

“Me neither, baby. But I’ve gotta give you your property patch
in front of the club. You also gotta get inked.”

“But –” He silenced me with a kiss before laying me down on
the bed and covering me with his heavy body. His actions belied his words. I
found the ridge of his cock and rubbed myself against him.

“No, Apple.” His tone was stern, but he continued to kiss me,
nipping at my jaw and neck before placing a lingering kiss to the swell of
my breast. He stood, reaching for me and pulling me to my feet. “Not
until I give you the vest.” He grinned. “And not in the
clubhouse. We’re goin’ home.” He cupped my face and kissed
me once more before unlocking the door and pulling me after him back to the
common room.

Deacon grinned, draping an arm over my shoulders possessively. He looked
proud to have me with him. Several of the guys clapped him on the shoulder
good-naturedly and gave me respectful nods. The Iron Tzars might be as wild
as any other MC, but they were respectful of their women. Besides, everyone
knew Lemon would have their balls if they weren’t. Also, Wylde would
likely have done his worst. Which, he might be the tech guy, but Wylde was
more than what he showed on the surface.

“Deacon!” Roman called to him from across the room. The party
had started, though the place was more sedate than I’d seen in the
past. Especially since me and Lemon were the guests of honor, so to speak. I
was sure that was why there were only a couple of club girls in the area,
and they were there strictly to keep the food coming when Iris told
them.

Deacon raised his hand to the enforcer. Instead of a welcoming smile,
however, Roman looked serious. Like he was displeased in the extreme.

“Deacon? What’s wrong?” I gripped Deacon’s hand in
both of mine, looking up at him. There was a look of dread briefly before
his expression closed off. I glanced back at Roman who was giving Deacon a
hard look in return.

“Nothin’, Applejack,” he murmured, leaning close to my
ear. “I’ll be right back.” Deacon kissed my temple as he
wrapped his arms around me in a fierce hug. He strode to Roman, who took him
into Sting’s office and shut the door. It was over an hour before the
three of them exited the room. Roman said something to Deacon, who nodded.
Sting gripped Deacon’s shoulder, before slapping it in a show of
solidarity and encouragement. Whatever had happened couldn’t be too
bad. Right?

Deacon scanned the room until he found me. He flashed a tight smile before
heading in my direction. Once he reached me, he pulled me back into his arms
and hugged me tightly for several long seconds.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain in a minute. Let’s go home
first.”

“Right now? The party’s just started.” I grinned up at
him. Unease had settled in my belly. I knew something was wrong and
wasn’t sure I wanted to go with him right now. The longer I put off
leaving, the longer I had this one night with him. Because I knew something
was about to happen I wouldn’t like.

“I’m sorry, honey. This can’t wait.” He gave me a
sad, gentle look, but I could see the truth in his eyes.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to, Deacon.”

He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Gripping my hand firmly, he
tugged me after him. When we got to the parking lot, he led me to his bike
and climbed on. “Ride with me, Applejack.” He held out his hand
for me to grip for balance if I wanted to climb on. He almost willed me to
take his hand.

As if I could deny him anything. I loved Deacon.

He rode me around the property for a while. I always loved the feeling of
the wind in my hair as he sped over the hard paths. It felt like I was
flying. The one time I’d been on the open road with Deacon especially.
Even with a helmet, I’d never felt more free in my life.

All too soon the ride ended and Deacon pulled up outside the little house
we’d been given. I should have been excited. This was the moment
I’d been waiting for. To be at the house with the intention of having
sex with Deacon. Only, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. He
hadn’t given me his property cut. So, whatever was about to happen
wasn’t going to be welcomed.

He helped me remove my helmet and lashed it to the back of his bike. Then
he took my hand and we went inside. Deacon locked the door but stood with
his hands on the door, his forehead against the wood.

Carefully, I placed a hand on his back. “What’s about to
happen, Deacon?” My voice was so soft I wasn’t sure if
he’d heard me, but after letting out a deep breath, Deacon turned to
face me.

“You know I love you, right, Apple?”

I nodded. “Yes. I know.”

“Then I need you to trust me. I’m going to have to wait to give
you your property cut.”

“Why?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I was very near
tears. “This was the plan. We were going to be together.”

“We will be, Apple. I just need a year. One year. Use it to spend
time with your sister doing stuff young women your age normally
do.”

“What is this, Deacon? I don’t want to go on trips or to
parties unless it’s with you.”

“Honey, there is something I have to take care of. It’s going
to require I be gone a lot over the next several months. I don’t think
it’s fair to ask you to wait for me.”

“Wait… “ Dread washed through me and I shook my head.
“Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

“One year, Apple. Give me a year. If you haven’t found someone
you want more than me, I’ll be home and I’ll beg you to take me
back.”

“Are you going to be with other women?”

“Honey, I swear to you, I’ve not been with another woman since
I made a commitment to you. Not in the whole three years since I’ve
known you. That’s not going to change. Not as long as you’re not
in a relationship.”

I watched him for a long time, studying his expression. His eyes. Looking
for anything that might give me some hint as to what was going on. I found
nothing.

With a sigh, I nodded. “I’ll be waiting on you when you come
home. I don’t want this to be the end.”

He gave me a gentle smile. “It won’t. I promise.”

“Why did you want us to come here? If you’re not giving me your
cut yet, are we still, uh, are we going to sleep together?”

“We’re not going to have sex tonight, honey. But I want to
spend the night with you. I want to hold you all night while you
sleep.”

“We can still make love, Deacon. I want you.”

“I want you too, honey. But I have to leave in the morning. I’m
not sure when I’ll be back, and even when I am, I might not be able to
stay long. I’m not using this as an excuse to take what I want without
committing to you.” He cupped my face in both his hands, leaning over
to brush a tender kiss over my lips. “I’m going to hold you
while you sleep. You’re going to give me this one night. After I
leave, we’ll revisit us in a year.”

“I’ll wait, Deacon. Just… try to talk to me as much as
you can? Make sure to see me whenever possible?”

He smiled reassuringly at me. “I promise to do everything possible to
stay in contact with you, Applejack.”

I took him at his word. He held me all night long. With Deacon wrapped
around me, I’d never slept so well as I did that night. Sure, I woke
occasionally, but only to shift my position. Always, Deacon whispered softly
to me until I dozed back off. It was paradise.

* * *

The next few months, Deacon called me at least once a week. Then it backed
off to once every other week. By the time our year was up, I hadn’t
talked to him the entire last two months before he’d promised
he’d be home.

It was another two months before he finally came back to Iron Tzars MC.
When he did, Deacon wasn’t the same person he’d been when
he’d left.

 

 

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double
life as an erotic romance author 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

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

 

 

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