TEASER TUESDAY: March (Underland MC) by Harley Wylde

 

(Underland MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: September 13, 2024

 

 

Sometimes the most forbidden love can be the most
irresistible…

 

Violet — My life has never been a bed of roses, especially after I lost my
brother. He gave his life for his country, and without him, I lived in pure
hell. My family was the type you read about in horror books or bad news
stories, but I was doing my best to survive. It wasn’t going so bad. I
went away to college, thought everything would be better… Until I
went to a frat party that went horribly wrong. Now I’m pregnant, lost,
and so very alone. So I did the one thing I told myself I’d never do.
I used my computer skills in a not very legal way to look up my
brother’s best friend — Marcus Blevins. He’s the only person I
can think of who might be able to help me, to keep me from drowning, or
doing something stupid. Never once did I think he’d find me
suspicious. But once he let me in, I knew I’d do anything to
stay.

March – I ran like hell from my old neighborhood by joining the
military, and even after I was discharged, I never looked back. My friend
and brother in arms lost his life. I watched the life fade from his eyes.
There’s no going back after that. How could I ever face his little
sister, Violet? I never once thought she’d track me down — or that
she could — but when she shows up on the clubhouse doorstep, I can’t
help but be suspicious. I have enough on my plate without adding her
problems to it, but once I know what happened to her, I can’t look the
other way. I’ll make them all pay for what they did. The more time I
spend with Violet, the more I realize she’s all grown up… and
the more I fall under her spell. If her brother knew the sorts of thoughts
I’m having, he’d come back from the dead to kick my ass. But
just maybe I need Vi as much as she needs me.

 

Suspense, passion, and second chances — are you ready to dive into this
captivating tale?

 

WARNING: Intended for readers 18+ due to adult situations, language, and
violence. March has a guaranteed HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

 

EXCERPT

“March, Ben knew,” Hatter stated, firm and resolute. “He
knew.”

“Knew what?” I asked, even though I feared the answer.

“That we’re brothers. All of us,” Hatter replied. I knew
what he meant. Sometimes family went beyond blood.

“Brothers ‘til the end,” Cheshire echoed quietly, and we
drank to that unspoken truth.

The silence lingered like a thick fog, heavy enough to choke on. Cheshire
broke it first, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “We’ve
all got ghosts, brother. Some just scream louder than others. You and
Ben… Well, you had a longer history than the rest of us had with him.
And you were right there when it happened.”

No shit. Some nights, I still felt the spray of his blood coating my skin.
The warmth of it searing me like hot coals.

“Damn right,” Hatter added. “Lost too many to count. Each
one leaves a mark, but you keep going. Because that’s what warriors
do.”

My fists unclenched slowly, the white of my knuckles fading back to flesh.
Their words, raw and honest, chiseled away at the walls I’d
built.

“Remember Rico?” Cheshire asked, tipping his chair back, his
blue eyes clouding over. “Took three bullets meant for me. I hear his
laugh sometimes, in the wind. It’s like he’s still here, riding
with us.”

“Rico was a good man.” Hatter nodded solemnly. “Died a
warrior’s death.”

“And Ben… he died a hero’s death,” I murmured,
finally finding the strength to lift my gaze.

“Heroes, every last one,” Hatter agreed. His piercing eyes held
mine, not letting me sink back into the dark. “And we carry them with
us, every mile of the road.”

“Every damn mile,” I echoed, feeling the truth in his words
weave through the pain.

“Look around, March,” Cheshire said, gesturing to the crowded
room. “This is family. We’re your brothers, through thick and
thin. We may not have all made it out of there alive, but our fallen
brothers will live on in our memories. As long as we remember them,
they’ll never truly die.”

I scanned the clubhouse, the familiar scents of oil and leather wrapping
around me like a balm. Laughter bounced off the walls, and the warmth soaked
into me. This place, these men, they were my sanctuary in a world laced with
chaos.

“Family,” I whispered, allowing the word to settle in my
chest.

“Always,” Hatter affirmed, reaching across the table to clasp
my shoulder.

“Let’s drink to that,” Cheshire said, an edge of his grin
returning. He raised his beer, and Hatter and I followed suit, our bottles
clinking.

The tension drained from my body, seeping into the floorboards below. In
its place, something warm unfurled, a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in
a long time. It never lasted. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. I took what
little bits of solace I could find here and there. It was the only way to
remain even somewhat sane.

“Brothers,” I said, meeting their eyes. The bond between us,
forged in blood and fire, was unbreakable.

“Until the end,” they replied in unison.

For the first time in what felt like forever, laughter bubbled up from deep
within me, genuine and freeing. I was home, surrounded by my brothers, and
for now, that was all I needed. And when the nightmares returned, I’d
have to remind myself of this moment, and all the ones like it we’d
shared since we became civilians again.

The room hushed as I stood, beer in hand, eyes scanning the faces of my
brothers. Each one carried scars, tales etched in flesh and soul. The air
was thick with unspoken understanding, an electric current of shared loss
that hummed beneath our skin. I knew they could tell by the look in my eyes
that I’d been fighting my demons before I came in here. Each man had
done the same, countless times.

“Tonight,” I started, “we remember those who aren’t
here to raise a glass. Ben. Rico. Tate.” My throat tightened, a noose
of grief tugging with every name.

“Vick,” Rabbit said, lifting his beer.

“Jarret,” Tweedle said.

“To our fallen brothers, may the road they ride be smooth and
endless,” I said.

“Ride free,” the chorus echoed back, a haunting melody of
respect and remembrance.

I drank, the bitter brew sliding down my throat. Swallowed past the lump
that never quite faded. With each sip, a silent oath to never forget.

I lowered my bottle, the weight of brotherhood heavy in my chest. A
patchwork family bound tighter than blood could ever dictate. It gave
purpose to the pain, a beacon in the tempest that was my mind.

They didn’t know how much they kept me anchored, these men who shared
my demons. How the roar of engines and their gruff voices were the only
lullabies capable of quieting the cacophony of war that still played on a
loop in my head.

“March,” Hatter’s voice cut through my reflection.
“They’d be damn proud of you.”

“Damn right,” Cheshire added, his smirk betraying the moisture
in his eyes.

Pride mingled with the sorrow, a bittersweet cocktail that warmed from
within. This club, this duty I bore, it was more than a title or a role. It
was a lifeline — a reason to keep pushing when darkness clawed at my
edges.

“Thanks,” I managed, my voice raw. “Couldn’t do it
without you bastards.”

Laughter erupted, a salve to the open wounds. In their company, even the
deepest cuts seemed to heal, if just for a moment.

Once a Marine, always a Marine. But here, in the Underland MC, we were
more. We were guardians of each other’s sanity, keepers of stories too
grim for the light of day. And protectors of this town.

I looked around at my brothers, their faces as hard as the lives we led,
yet there was warmth there too. They were the pillars in the chaos, the
constant in a life that had offered little else.

In the safety of shadows, where the world couldn’t reach us, we were
invincible. And in that moment, I allowed myself to believe it. We’d
already battled several times in this place we now called home, and
we’d been lucky enough to not lose anyone.

Outside these walls, danger prowled, hungry and relentless. It clawed at
the edges of our sanctuary, waiting for a crack to slip through, a weakness
to exploit.

“Tomorrow’s ride is going to be dicey,” I said.
“But we ride together, through whatever shitstorm comes our
way.”

 

About the Author

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

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

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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

 

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TEASER TUESDAY: Dread (Scorned Devils MC) by J. Halie Steele

 

Scorned Devils MC, Book 1

 

Contemporary LGBTQ MC Romance

Date Published: 9/6/2024

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC


 

Dread: Nicholas “Dread” Derickson is all about his MC, Scorned
Devils — until he spies a young man who sets his rebel blood on fire. Sexy
bastard might be his undoing if Dread can’t get the president to turn a
blind eye to his entanglement, which is cutting into club business just as a
splinter group from another club moves into the area. One rider of the
wayward gang rubs Dread the wrong way — particularly when he discovers the
biker had a prior relationship with the man Dread wants to make his.

Marvin: Marvin Branch hadn’t planned on attending an outlaw biker club
party with a woman he’d met at his new job, but now he can’t stop eyeing the
handsome older guy who’s definitely a member. Marv’s last liaison ended
because the biker he hooked up with refused to be open about their
relationship. Vowing not to go down that road again, Marv can’t help being
enthralled by Nicholas. Soon Marvin struggles with his new lover’s actions,
and his fear of what will happen when he walks away gets the better of him.
The man is not only possessive, he’s hell-bent on keeping Marv until he’s
had his fill.

 

Excerpt

 

Dread

“Nicholas, about the two prospects.”

Dread hated these damn open-air parties. The park was jammed with bodies.
Giving back to the community was necessary now and again. They deserved
something, because unless things really got out of hand, the two small local
police forces turned a blind eye to most of the Scorned Devils motorcycle
club’s bullshit.

More importantly, he hated being called Nicholas. Nicholas Derickson had
ceased to exist a long time ago. His death had occurred the first time Dread
killed a man. The culprit had missed being on the Scorned Devils MC’s
radar, but he should have been. That body had never been found. Never will
be, either.

There had been two others. Members who’d become disruptive and had to
be dealt with outside the law. Dread felt no guilt, as they understood the
rules when they prospected. There had been one more. Club president Barton
“Battle” Graves hadn’t been sure of the last death. Even
after finding the man’s cut in the clubhouse chest only he and Dread
had access to, Battle left it alone at first, ignoring the incident for a
time because Dread was Scorned Devils inside out, and Bat knew beyond a
doubt he intended to protect his club and anyone they vowed allegiance until
Dread took his last breath.

Hell, the man had screwed around with Bat’s older and only sister,
Glory Graves. Treated her like shit. She’d been abused, then abandoned
after the bastard fathered the pres’ niece, Belinda. He’d
occasionally turn up when he was down on his luck, to demand money, or a
room for a few days. If it was easier for Bat to believe the man walked away
for good, so be it.

Bat had asked about the disappearance once. Dread never responded. And that
skull never got painted on Dread’s bikes. However, if he delayed
answering Battle now, the jackass would never shut up.

“Nicholas, you hear me?”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Dread had not taken his
gaze off the stranger who’d arrived accompanied by Bat’s niece,
Belinda. Jesus, he’s hot! The thought surprised Dread. The man was
lean, clean shaven and, fuck, downright pretty — and those types never
excited him. Something about the way the man carried himself, how he
returned Dread’s scrutiny without blinking, excited him, though.
Bastard exuded confidence.

Nodding in their direction, Dread asked, “Who’s that with
Belinda?” Dread had no interest in diving back into the same pond he
swam in for the last six months. His sex life had drifted into no
man’s land, but the youngster he eyed was a bright spot on the
horizon. I will fuck him until he can’t walk.

“How the hell would I know? Ask Belinda. No matter how much I bitch,
she cozies up to some man. Shit, she calls you uncle more often than
me.” Attempting to imitate his niece, Bat mocked, “Why
can’t you call me Bell, like Uncle Dread?”

“What’s the big deal?”

“My sister’s crap’s the big deal. She’s biting my
ass. Doesn’t like her daughter anywhere near me. Hell, I don’t
either.”

“Barton, grab your balls and tell your sister to fuck off.”
Dread’s attention remained on the newcomer.

“Kiss my ass. Anyway, he likely works with Belinda at one of your
establishments.” Kicking the dirt, Bat added, “All the strangers
here, you’re concerned by my niece’s latest
conquest?”

Holding eye contact, Dread smiled at the fucker. He knew the sexy young man
slinking behind Belinda wasn’t a lady’s man. “He’s
not her type.” There would be no complaint from Dread about her
dragging this one along, yet Dread made note to talk with his managers, keep
better tabs on who they hired. “You asked me to give her a job,
Battle. It was Cutters or Hell’s Lair.”

“She’s not to be in any part of the Lair, Dread. Bar,
clubhouse, nothing. I mean it.”

Dread observed Bell’s friend laughing at something a member’s
old lady had said. He is not Hell’s Lair material, either. Dread owned
both Cutters, a nice restaurant featuring live music on weekends, and
Hell’s Lair, a straight up hole-in-the-wall biker’s bar. He
received nice compensation monthly from the Scorned Devils MC treasury for
renting them the large, wide-open storage area behind the bar. It doubled as
the clubhouse.

The spot had had another name before Dread changed it to Hell’s Lair.
Paid pennies on the dollar when he violently wrestled ownership from a man
who didn’t deserve it. Jackass mistreated his employees and fired
anyone he discovered was gay. For a moment Dread wondered where that bastard
had ended up after being beaten to within an inch of his life and chased out
the city. One thing Dread was sure of, the son of a bitch would never open
his mouth about what had occurred.

Subsequently, the bar made enough for Dread to snatch Cutters up when it
came on the market. Only a handful of his crew were aware who owned Cutters,
and none ever set foot inside. Too fancy for their liking. Even he
couldn’t buy respectability, but Dread liked having one thing in his
life that felt decent.

“Too much talk in the Lair’s bar area. That shit must be
addressed and I don’t trust Belinda to follow my rule about visiting
the club.”

“I’ll handle the loose lips. Anyway, our guys know not to
permit your niece inside. If she sneaks in, you or I will get a call. If
they ever touch a hair on her head, they’ll see me sooner than
later.” Angling toward Battle, Dread slapped the pres’ shoulder.
“That’s what you have me for.”

“And sometimes you worry me.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dread was the only one who dared speak to
the club president like that. “What were you saying about
prospects?”

“A vote on patching is necessary. They’ve both proved
themselves.” Bat’s sigh filled the air. “We got to watch
those five hellions out of Philadelphia. Shit, been too long since I had a
sit-down with the pres of Bayside Specters. Sons of bitches didn’t
even have the courage or respect to announce themselves. Still, I’d
like to avoid trouble. Devils have grown. We established ourselves in the
county and Coatesville is home. It’s a small city and trouble of any
sort marring our MC’s reputation will not be tolerated.”

Growth was important. Thirty-four members strong, Scorned Devils had become
a club to be reckoned with in Pennsylvania but Bat was right.
“We’ll take it up at the next meeting. This isn’t the time
or place.”

Over the last couple months, several instances had developed that Dread
wished the president had allowed him to handle. He understood Bat’s
caution, yet appearing weak wasn’t suitable. Dread had turned down
running the Devils, or becoming vice president as Battle had hoped, as they
moved up through club ranks. Dread liked his position of sergeant at arms.
Trusting anyone else to ensure club rules would be followed and appropriate
punishment doled out when necessary didn’t suit Dread, either.

“Don’t know how you can tell, but you’re probably right
about that young man. Anyway, I know I’m not getting anything useful
out of you until you make yourself known to him.” Turning serious, Bat
added, “Be careful.”

“Careful?” Bat knew who Dread was and he also understood some
things would never change. “That shit flew out the window twenty years
ago when I screwed the fourth prospect who patched for the Devils. I can
handle members who scoff at what I am.” A few hard cases, kept under
Dread’s scrutiny, disdained gay activity, but not one of the Devils
would dare say a word about his or any other member’s sexual
inclination. “Terror’s not here to protect the fuckers, and they
like having their teeth.”

The Scorned Devils vice president was near the end of a three-year sentence
for assault. Nineteen years younger than Dread, Terror was fucking nuts, and
Dread didn’t relish the time he would return. Made him wish,
sometimes, he had accepted vice president under Battle. Luckily, Bat had
succeeded in keeping them from tearing each other apart. At least for now.
But the day would come.

“You know what the fuck I mean. He’s not one of us. He’s
too clean cut for the likes of us, and he reeks of decency. Hell, the kid
isn’t even your usual hairy type.” Bat’s eyes shuttered.
“Not as if… Look, Dread, club culture doesn’t favor
settling down.”

“What? Fuck that, man, I’m not looking for anything permanent.
Scorned Devils requires my attention, I’m here, Battle. That shit will
never change.” Jerking away, Dread made his way through the crowd to
lay claim to his next conquest.

About the Author

Growl and roar — it’s okay to let the beast out. — J. Hali Steele

J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings, or fangs, so she can stay
warm, fly, or just plain bite the crap out of… Well, she can’t
do those things but she wishes she could!

J. Hali’s a multi-published Amazon bestselling author of Romance in
Paranormal, Fantasy, and Contemporary worlds which include ReligErotica and
LGBTQ stories where humans, vampyres, shapeshifters and angels collide —
and they collide a lot! When J. Hali’s not writing or reading, she can
be found snuggled in front of the TV with a cat in her lap, and a cup of
coffee.

 

Author on Instagram/Facebook: @jhalisteele

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

 

 

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TEASER: Ringo (Grim Road MC) by Marteeka Karland

 

(Grim Road MC)

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: August 23, 2024

 

 

Calista – When my stepfather decides the best way to get himself out
of trouble is to trade me to the man who owns his gambling debts, I know
it’s time to get the hell outta Dodge. Before she died, my mother told
me my real dad was a hero, but what he’d done in the military was so
secret, he had to disappear. She gave me a name and a bunch of numbers to
memorize. Made me repeat them every night for as long as I could remember.
Just before she died, she told me the words Dominic and Grim Road — my
father’s name and the group he belonged to. The numbers were
coordinates for the group’s headquarters — a motorcycle club where I
could find my father. I can’t think of anyone else I can go to for
help. But once I find Grim Road’s compound, I realize there are far
more dangerous things waiting for me there — like a man who could steal my
heart.

Ringo: When a little spitfire walks up to the gates of Grim Road demanding
to see our sergeant at arms, Dominic, I know I’m in trouble. She looks
vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place her. Something inside me
warns me I need to figure it out fast, though. Preferably before the
prospect manning the gate does something to get himself killed. When she
refuses to leave, he gives her a good, hard shove. The expression on her
face of shock and fear triggers a memory. A little girl — this girl —
falling backwards off the front porch steps into the flower bed. Calista.
Dom’s daughter. Only she’s not a little girl anymore.
She’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’m
gonna make her mine. I just need to figure out how to keep her father from
killing me.

 

EXCERPT

When I finally approached the edge of the city, I gave up all pretense of
trying to blend in. I took off at nearly a sprint. The longer I was out in
the open, the greater the chances Sam or one of Borris’s other men
would spot me. I had to make it through a few more city blocks, then across
the highway — another risk since not many people crossed on foot — and
into the woods. Once I had the cover of the trees, I’d find a place to
settle down for the night and hopefully make it to the compound tomorrow. I
didn’t want to get lost, so I had to take the chance they
wouldn’t come this way looking for me. Or, if they did, that
they’d wait until daylight, so they had a better chance of tracking me
accurately.

All I had was an old compass my mother had given me with a tiny map folded
inside tucked into my bra, and the flashlight I’d stolen. No food. No
water. No protection from the elements. Just the compass and map, and a
flashlight. And stories about a place my mother told me about, but I’d
never seen. This was all kinds of crazy, but it was my choice. No one
else’s.

By the time I was deep in the woods and far enough away from the road as I
could safely get, it was full dark. I didn’t want to use the light yet
as it was still early enough Sam might still make a try on the chance I
hadn’t gone far, and Sam might still make a try if he could figure out
where I’d gone into the woods. Plus, I had no idea how long the
battery would last. Hopefully a while. Though I’d thought I was
prepared mentally for a couple of days out in the wild on my own, I
hadn’t thought about how dark it would actually be. And I wasn’t
even thinking about the possibility of snakes.

Or alligators.

The air was thick with humidity, and every leaf seemed to whisper nefarious
secrets as I pushed farther into the undergrowth. My limbs ached, my heart
pounded in my ears, and fear clung to me like the dense fog that began to
roll in from the nearby swamp. The noises of the night grew louder, a
cacophony of insects and distant howls that did nothing to ease my
nerves.

I tried to keep my breathing steady, reminding myself that panic would only
make things worse. The darkness was absolute – even the faint glow of
moonlight struggled to penetrate the thick canopy above. Every rustle in the
bushes sent a spike of adrenaline through my system. Was the noise from a
predator stalking me? Was it Sam? More of my stepfather’s goons? I
wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of giant snakes or my stepfather.
Borris Illivitch was a cold-hearted bastard. When he found out I’d
blazed…  If he caught me, I’d be in a world of pain. Death
would be a release.

I pressed on, trying to use what little moonlight filtered through the tree
canopy to guide my steps. Which… yeah. Occasionally, I’d see a
sliver of moon, but that was it. The air grew cooler as the damp night
deepened, and an occasional breeze should have felt good in the Florida
humidity but only seemed to grate on my nerves instead of soothing me.
Despite the risks, knowing it was a bad idea to stumble around in the dark,
I felt this urgent need to press on. Keep moving. Stay ahead of the thugs I
knew would be after me.

I continued on for as long as I could. When I finally reached the point
where exhaustion overrode the adrenaline, I leaned against a tree. Not the
smartest move, but I was beyond caring at this point. My lungs burned, as
did my leg muscles. I was scraped all over, my clothes even ripped in a
couple places. The only thing I’d risked in standing out with regard
to my appearance was the combat boots I wore. Not uncommon, but also
noticeable. Thankfully my suit pants had been flared at the bottom and had
hidden them. The boots were the only things allowing me to travel as far as
I had.

I knew the general direction I needed to go. My mom had also taught me
landmarks in the area to look for by using child’s nursery rhyme. All
of which she told me about just days before she died. I’d long ago
used virtual maps to find the landmarks she taught me. I was as prepared as
I could be.

I finally stopped and took stock of my body. I had some stinging scrapes
and at some point I’d twisted my ankle, but it wasn’t anything I
couldn’t power through. As the silvery moon moved across the sky, the
light filtered through the trees lessened. I could barely see my hand in
front of my face, let alone anything around me. Or my compass.

I was on solid ground but had no idea what was above or around me. With the
adrenaline falling off, I was trembling. Which was creating more panic. I
was basically defenseless in unfamiliar territory. Yeah. It was time where
the benefits of using the flashlight outweighed the risks.

I switched on the light, shining it around the area. A pair of eyes glowed
back at me and I jumped back, sucking in a breath, but the little varmint
ran off. At least, I hoped it was little.

“OK. OK.” I was talking out loud, but really, I had to do
something other than freak myself out by listening to all the noises around
me. Or look for glowing predator eyes. “I got this. Mom said this
place was miles and miles of swamp, trees, and forest, but if I was careful,
I could make my way through all that to the place my dad lived.

It took a couple of hours, but I finally found a small, rundown shack.
Looked like, at one time, it might have been a hunting cabin, or some kind
of game-watch post. It wasn’t much bigger than a small storage
building but wasn’t completely enclosed. About halfway up the walls,
all around, the enclosure was open, at one time covered with a screen. Kept
out insects but allowed the occupant to see out in all directions. This was
a landmark on my map, and I’d basically stumbled on it.

I went inside the little shack, noting there was nothing inside except a
bench fashioned all around the inside perimeter and dirt and leaves. The
screens had long ago been torn or had fallen apart leaving only ragged
remnants to sway in the slight breeze.

It was ridiculous, but with a roof over my head, even with little
protection from anything, I felt a little safer. Not safe, by any means, but
more… secure.

I set the light beside me when I sank down onto one of the benches.
Carefully, I pulled out my compass and opened it, taking care with the
delicate piece of paper folded inside it. Opening it up, I confirmed what I
already knew. I needed to head straight northeast. Like, this place had been
put in this exact position to use as a landmark. My mother had given me
three at various points around the center structure I was trying to get to.
Each landmark pointed in a precise direction, so I had no doubt these spots
were carefully thought out and deliberately placed as guides. If you knew
the coordinates. And had a map. Which I did. A treasure map, if you
will.

From my current position, I estimated it would take me about six hours to
walk. It wasn’t that far, per se, but walking in the woods and swamp
was tricky going. The accepted estimate was to allow thirty minutes for
every mile walked. I guess I’d find out how far off that estimate was
when I found the place I was looking for.

And my dad. Unfortunately, I had no idea if he knew I existed. If he did,
there was every possibility he wouldn’t accept me or even want me in
his life. Which was fine. I just needed his protection long enough to make
sure Borris Illivitch gave up looking for me.

Turned out, I made better time than I thought I would. Even in the dark. I
literally stumbled into a big guy with a full beard. He scowled down at me
even as his hands went to my shoulders to steady me. I expected his fingers
to bite into my flesh, but he was surprisingly gentle.

“Who the fuck goes there at four-thirty in the fuckin’
mornin’?”

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

Author on Facebook


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

Pre-Order Today

RABT Book Tours & PR

TEASER: Cheshire (Underland MC) by Harley Wylde

(Underland MC)

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: August 16, 2024

 

 

Cheshire is perfect for fans of suspense and forbidden love stories.

Eliza — Being the daughter of the sheriff might sound nice to most people.
But they don’t know what my father is truly like. All they see is the
mask he wears. The congenial smile, the good deeds, and the way he puts
others before himself. It’s all an act. Behind closed doors,
he’s a monster. One I can’t seem to escape. Until I’ve
finally had enough… my daring attempt to leave home lands me in the
arms of the VP of the Underland MC… and something tells me
there’s no safer place to be.

Cheshire — As the VP of the Underland MC, and former military, I’m
no stranger to dangerous situations. When my club discovers the local
sheriff is corrupting the town of Warren, I know we need to step in. Human
trafficking and abuse are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the
sheriff and his henchmen. But the one thing I never expected to find was
love — especially with the sheriff’s innocent daughter. I’ll
make sure to take the bastard down, not only for the town of Warren, but for
Eliza. I never want to see fear in her eyes again.

Are you ready for this gripping tale of danger and desire?

 

 

EXCERPT

 

Eliza

The room swam in a haze of fear and broken glass. Sheriff Holmes’
face twisted into an ugly snarl, eyes burning with rage. He clenched his
fists, knuckles turning white. This wasn’t anything new for my father.
Just another day in my miserable life.

“Stand up,” he barked, voice like ice. I forced myself to my
feet, trembling like a leaf, tears streaming down my face.

“Please don’t,” I whispered, but my words fell on deaf
ears.

“Shut up!” His fist collided with my cheekbone, the force
sending me sprawling back to the floor. The air rushed from my lungs as if
I’d been sucker punched. Pain exploded through my skull.

This is it. This is how I die.

“Get up,” he spat again, reveling in the torment he inflicted.
The darkness in his eyes chilled me to the core. I scrambled to my feet,
legs shaking, praying for some kind of reprieve.

“Look at you,” he sneered, grabbing a fistful of my hair and
yanking me closer. “Pathetic.”

“Please, stop,” I whimpered, too weak to resist his iron grip.
In that moment, I knew I was nothing to him — just another thing to control
and bend to his will. He’d never think of me as a daughter, as family.
I wasn’t sure a monster like him was capable of such a thing.

“Did you think I’d let you get away with it? That I
wouldn’t find out?” He punctuated his words with a vicious blow
to my stomach, causing bile to rise in my throat.

Can’t breathe. Can’t fight back. Just need to survive. I curled
up to protect my already battered body.

“Learn your place,” he hissed as he landed one final punch,
then turned to leave, his heavy footsteps echoing in my ears.

I didn’t know what I’d done to make him so angry this time. It
could have been anything. Maybe I’d put something in the wrong place.
I didn’t think I’d ruined any of his clothes when I’d done
the laundry. No matter how hard I thought about it, I had no idea what
I’d done.

Blood dripped down my face, each droplet a painful reminder of the violent
flurry that had just unfolded. I stared at the cracked mirror on the wall,
catching glimpses of my battered reflection between the jagged lines. The
pain was unbearable, but what hurt more was the feeling of utter
helplessness.

“Is this it?” I whispered to myself, choking back tears.
“Is this all my life will ever be?”

My eyes scanned the room, taking in the shattered glass and twisted
remnants of what had once been my sanctuary. How could I ever feel safe
again, knowing that he’d violated every inch of this space?

I pressed my hand against my bruised ribs, wincing at the sharp stab of
pain. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a world where the torture
ceased, where I could finally be free from his sadistic grip.

“Maybe death would be better,” I admitted, my voice barely
audible. “At least then, I wouldn’t have to live in
fear.”

The thought sent shivers down my spine, but also brought an odd sense of
comfort. In death, there would be peace. No more beatings, no more
humiliation, no more heart-pounding terror that gripped me every time he
approached. Even if there was nothing but a sea of darkness on the other
side, it would be preferable to this.

“Eliza,” my father’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I
realized he was standing in my doorway again. “Don’t think
I’m done with you. If you ever try to defy me again, I won’t
hesitate to end your miserable existence.”

Fear slithered its way into my throat, choking me as I struggled to find my
voice. “Yes, sir,” I managed to whisper, quivering under the
weight of his gaze. I couldn’t ask how I’d defied him. Doing so
would only spark his anger again.

“Remember that.” With one last chilling glare, he slammed the
door behind him, leaving me to wallow in my own despair.

Trembling, I realized that even the thought of death couldn’t save
me. The fear of my father, of Sheriff Holmes, held me captive in a prison
more terrifying than any physical cage.

“Death or life,” I whispered into the void. “Either way,
I’m trapped.”

My heart pounded, and my hands shook. I didn’t even remember my
mother anymore. She’d died so long ago. I thought we were happier
then, but I didn’t know for sure. Had my father always been a
monster?

“No escape.” If I tried… I dragged myself up, wincing.
Bruised, battered, weak. That’s what I saw when I looked in the
mirror. At times like this, I hated myself. If I were strong, would I be
able to stand up to him? Or if I were more cunning, could I escape?

“Damn him,” I muttered, the words barely escaping my swollen
lips.

The sound of motorcycles roared in the distance. I knew they’d belong
to the local motorcycle club. I’d seen them at a distance many
times.

A light tap on my window drew me over to it. “Who’s
there?”

I kept my voice low, not wanting to draw my father’s attention again.
“It’s Maria from next door.”

“Maria,” I breathed, relief washing over me for a brief moment.
We weren’t exactly close, but she’d noticed my wounds before and
done her best to help. Although she too feared my father.

“Open the window,” she urged.

“Can’t be seen together,” I reminded her, my gaze darting
around the room in panic. “He’ll hurt us both. If he thinks
you’re helping me…”

“Eliza, listen,” she said urgently. “I’ve found
help. The Underland MC. I think if you can get to them, they’ll
protect you.”

“Protect me?” I scoffed, disbelief coloring my tone.
“From Sheriff Holmes? No one can do that. It would be different if my
father were anyone else.”

“They can,” Maria insisted. “Those men aren’t
scared of anyone. I don’t have proof, but I think they’re
responsible for something big that went down a few weeks ago.”

“Help from bikers?” I questioned, my mind racing. “How
can I trust them?”

“They look big and scary, but they do a lot of good around town. And
from what I’ve heard, they’re all ex-military,” she said.
“They’re your only shot, Eliza.”

“All right, but how?” I asked.

“Tonight. If you can get away, I can take you to them. I was behind
one of them at the grocery store earlier. Heard him on the phone talking
about meeting everyone at a diner in town.”

“I’ll try.” I didn’t want to think of the
consequences if my father caught me. He might actually kill me.

 

 

About the Author

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

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

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today

RABT Book Tours & PR

RRR EVENT SPOTLIGHT: April D. Berry

What do you get when you mix a woman in an unthinkable situation, a biker who loves hard candy, and an assassination of the club president in the first few chapters?

Get ready to find out in Falcon: Destiny’s Enforcers MC Atlanta Chapter Book 1

Now available on Kindle, KU, and Paperback!
https://books2read.com/Falcon-DestinysEnforcersBook1

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

April Berry is a romance author born and raised in Georgia. She has a big, bearded man as a husband, two kids, and a job that keeps her busy. She’s also a band mom which is like another FT job!

She loves puns and clichés and didn’t get the memo about writing to market! She writes stories of the characters that invade her mind palace and won’t shut up until she tells their story, their way.

She is not responsible for any malarkey, shenanigans, or tears, at the doing of her characters while they fall for each other.

Also, her niche is no niche. You’ve heard of mood readers, but she’s a mood writer! She will, however, guarantee some heart tugs, laughs, zings, and a HFN or HEA!

Find April online:

https://linktr.ee/aprildberry

www.aprildberry.com

RRR EVENT SPOTLIGHT: Harley Wylde

For those of you who aren’t familiar with my books, I write a mix of things… Under the name Harley Wylde, I write Motorcycle Club, Mafia, Rockstar, and Bad Boys. As Jessica Coulter Smith, I write shifters, aliens, and a handful of fantasy YA and adult historical romances. And as Dulce Dennison I write gay romances.

Come see me at Rockin’ Romance Readers on August 3rd for free swag, a chance to win a box of naughty items, and I’ll even have a handful of free audio codes with me! I’ll be at table #73… Can’t wait to see you!

Until tonight, Beast (Reckless Kings MC) is on sale for only $0.99!

Sneak Peek…

Beast

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

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

“Kid looks cute.”

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

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

“How’s what’s-his-face?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ready for tomorrow?” Brick asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Check out my MC Romance series…

Want more?

I also write the Reckless Kings MC, Savage Raptors MC, Underland MC, Wicked Mayhem MC, Devoted Guardians MC, and Devil’s Fury MC…

Where to find Harley’s Books…

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo Plus | Apple Books | Smashwords | Everand

Follow Harley…

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/HarleyWylde
Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/harleywylde
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/harley-wylde
Join her Newsletter: https://harleywylde-author.eo.page/mp5b7

RRR EVENT SPOTLIGHT: Marteeka Karland

Rocket is ON SALE now through Friday. Want the paperback with Rocket and Lemon’s story? Come by my table at Rockin’ Romance Readers to get your AUTOGRAPHED COPY and so much more.

DEALS AT THE TABLE!

All books (other than marked titles) are $15. Each purchase receives a special tote (while they last) as well as some exclusive stickers not available anywhere else.

Want a BUNDLE DEAL? Check these out!

3 books for $40
5 books for $65
10 books for $130

In the mean time, check out this EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT of Rocket…

Rockjet (Grim Road MC 1)
Marteeka Karland
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2024 Marteeka Karland

I was hard as a motherfucker. Lemon… That woman… That fucking woman…

Fuck!

I’d known for a long fucking time I was going to hell, but here was the proof. Lemon had gone toe to toe with Falcon, one of the fiercest men I knew, and hadn’t backed down one fucking inch. Maybe she didn’t know what a badass he was, but I honestly don’t think she really cared. This was Lemon. Unfiltered and in your face. Had I not started feeling every single injury these assholes had dealt out to me, I’d have taken her over my knee and spanked her in front of God and everyone. Just to show she was mine. Then again, it might get my balls removed. Didn’t matter. I loved living dangerously.

“Get on outta here, Rocket.” Ringo, my enforcer, stepped into the house, looking the small space up and down, eyeballing the damage as he did. “I’ll get a cleaning crew out here to take care of everything.”

“I don’t want so much as a fuckin’ pebble that doesn’t belong still here when this place is cleaned. Get Scrubb.”

“On it, Prez.” Ringo left to get started as I kicked the front tire of Falcon’s downed bike.

“Should be fine.”

Falcon glared at me, his face hard and a very unflattering shade of red under his beard. Lemon mumbled, but I still had my hand clamped over her mouth. When she stuck her tongue out and licked my hand, my first instinct was to pull away and wipe my hand down my jeans, but that was exactly what she wanted. Instead, I gave her a hard stare.

So she bit me.

“Goddamnit, Lemon!” I did jerk my hand away that time.

She stepped away from me, then turned and shoved me backward.

Falcon snorted. “Who the fuck cut her loose, anyway? She’ll probably wreck the whole fuckin’ club before she’s done.”

Lemon just shrugged, looking about as concerned as the cartoon kitten sitting on the bulldog’s back. “I mean, it’s possible. Seems like you guys need a good swift kick in the balls. What better way to do that than through your bikes.”

Falcon actually growled and took a step forward, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You’re about two seconds from gettin’ an ass whuppin’, woman. Rocket won’t do it, I got no fuckin’ problem. Figure you owe me my pound of flesh for demolishing my bike.”

“Sweet Baby Jesus in the manger,” Lemon muttered. “I didn’t demolish your fuckin’ bike. It’s fine. Might need a new wheel on the front or something’s all. This club needs whippin’ into shape, Rocket. Is it full of pussies or is it just this clown?”

“Lemon –”

“No, Rocket.” She turned to face me, stabbing a finger in my chest none too gently. “They weren’t coming after you. They were going back to their clubhouse to talk about it.” She made air quotes. She looked back at Falcon and gave him a derisive snort. “So, yeah. I can see some changes need to be made.”

“Go to the fuckin’ truck, Lemon.” I made a step, then barely suppressed a wince. I did clamp a hand over my side. Which is when my shoulder screamed at me. ‘Cause, you know, I’d been shot. I still tried to ignore it because the only way Lemon would have me was if I was a strong man. Right now, she probably didn’t see me as strong. At least, not in body.

“You go to the truck. You’re the one who’s shot!”

I saw it then. That vulnerability Lemon never showed anyone. The fact that I’d been shot bothered her more than she was willing to admit. Or, likely, than she wanted me to know.

“And you got kidnapped. And beaten,” I countered.

“How about you both go to the fuckin’ truck and let me get started on this fuckin’ cleanup before the turn of the next fuckin’ century.”“Wow. Someone woke up cranky. Did you not get your full nap in?” I really thought Falcon was going to turn her over his knee. He actually took a threatening step forward, but Lemon didn’t back down. Instead, she met his gaze with her own steely one and took her own step forward, tilting her head to the side. “Come on, then. Give it your best shot. You get one.”

Get your copy here: https://books2read.com/RocketFB

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as a 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. They set aside the late summer season 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.

Follow Marteeka:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B004FZT1IS
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/experiencethemagicmk

RRR EVENT SPOTLIGHT: Elyse Kelly

SENTINEL

Book 1 of the Satan’s Disciples MC is Available now! 
https://geni.us/Sentinel_SDMC
Get it on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited!

Bad girls don’t get what they want, Emma. Bad girls get punished…

I thought coming to this unknown town in the middle of nowhere would keep me out of trouble, that it would be the perfect place to hide and start a new life. Instead, I found myself a different kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that makes good girls like me want to be all kinds of bad.

SENTINEL is Book 1 in the SATAN’S DISCIPLES MC SERIES. This obsessed hero is dark and dirty and willing to unleash all kinds of evil to protect the woman he loves. Hold on tight while he takes you on a fast and sexy ride in this stand-alone motorcycle club romance with no cheating, minimal angst, and a guaranteed HEA.

Faithful. Loyal. Ruthless. 

The men of SATAN’S DISCIPLES MOTORCYCLE CLUB live a dangerous lifestyle with deadly consequences. And that’s just the way these possessive alphas like it. Get ready for a long, hard ride with the bad boys of Carnage, Nevada, in these sexy, sinful HEAs that are guaranteed to leave you satisfied and breathless. 

Check out the series: https://geni.us/Satansdisciplesmc

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Just a true southern girl, reading and writing books, asking you to love me! My books are extra steamy, contemporary romances, all with HEAs and no cliffhangers!

If you love over-protective, sexy, alpha book boyfriends who make you swoon and reach for your favorite… bookmark, then you’ve come to the right place.

When I’m not writing books or doing bookish things, I’m probably listening to music, designing smutty stickers, adding to my spectacular band t-shirt collection, or learning how to do something new like arm-knitting because I’m neurodivergent AF! And yes, I really do know how to knit with my arms.

Find Elyse on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorElyseKelly

NEW RELEASE BLAST: SIN (Death Riders MC) by Beth D. Carter

Death Riders MC

MC Romance

Date Published: 07-23-1124

Publisher: Evernight Publishing


 

Adira Dobias thought she had the perfect life along with a perfect
fiancé. When she discovers her supposedly pious parents aren’t
the God-fearing people she thought them to be, it sends her running. She
arrives in Cardinal, at the home of a childhood friend, in order to figure
out where to go next.

When she applies for a job at a strip club, owned by the Death Riders, Ares
hires her on the spot. He thinks she is the woman he and Hunter have been
searching for. The perfect woman to belong to both of them.

It was only supposed to be fun, but somewhere along the way, Adira’s
heart got entangled. When a misunderstanding leads to disaster, the two men
have to work fast so they don’t lose the woman they’ve fallen
for.

 

 

Dedication

For everyone who has enjoyed the Death Riders stories. This one may not
have a paranormal twist, but I hope you like it anyway.

 

Teaser

As he cleaned up the interview table the door opened and a young woman
entered, hovering in the doorway. Long blonde hair cascaded down her back.
Big blue eyes looked around, wide-eyed and innocent. She wore jeans and a
t-shirt, and had no make-up on her face. And she didn’t need it
because she was fucking gorgeous. His dick also noticed, very interested in
what she was doing here.

          “Can I help
you?” he asked.

          “I…um, well,
I was here to apply for the job.”

Her voice was soft. Melodic. He bet she’d scream beautifully with
pleasure, and he wanted to be the one who gave it to her. Wanted her to cry
out his name when she came. She looked like a fucking angel with a body made
to sin. Narrow waist, long legs. Tits more than a handful. He really wanted
to get her naked and under him.

          “Certainly,”
he said, smiling. Hoping to relax her. “I’m Ares. I own The
Pussy Willow.”

She gave a self-conscious wave. “Nice to meet you. I’m Adira.
Am I too late for an interview?”

          He shook his head.
“Not at all. How did you hear about the job?”

Her fair complexion flushed red. He didn’t remember ever seeing a
woman blush before and it fascinated him.

          “I was in a coffee
shop and I eavesdropped on two women talking.”

          That amused him.
“All right.”

He strode closer, and the scent of warm spice hit him, making his mouth
water, and he realized it was her. He licked his lips, wondering if she
tasted like sugar, spice and everything nice. “Do you have any
experience being a hostess?”

Disappointment dulled her eyes. “No. I don’t have a lot of work
experience. I-I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

She turned to leave and he hurried to push the door closed, preventing her
from disappearing. By doing that, however, brought him flush against her
body, her back to his chest. The contact had his heart galloping and his
cock going rock hard in an instant.

“Don’t go,” he murmured softly. A little tremor rolled
through her body and he hoped to fucking God it was because she felt what he
was feeling. “I don’t care if you don’t know how to greet
customers. I can teach you everything you need to know.”

About the Author

I write about the very ordinary woman thrust into an extraordinary
circumstance, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or
corporate high rollers.  I try to write characters who aren’t cookie
cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea
how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I strive to create
characters who are complex and full of flaws. Heroes and heroines who find
redemption through love.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

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TikTok

 

Purchase Links

Amazon

B&N

Kobo

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway 

RABT Book Tours & PR

PREORDER BLITZ: Mama & Pops by Marteeka Karland

 

Bones MC Legends, Book One

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: 7/26/24

Publisher: Changeling Press


 

Somerset, Kentucky. My home. Or it was. Coming back from Nam was a
friggin’ shock. No one wanted us there, but no one really wants us
back here, either. In their eyes, we’re all guilty. Guess I feel the
same way about them. I don’t belong anywhere. Maybe I never really
did.

Except with Mama. For me, meeting Mama was like a dime novel. Fell for her
almost the moment I laid eyes on her. Knew she’d be mine after our
first kiss. Of course, convincing her took a little time. But it’s
because of Mama I have a home and people I care about now. I may be a badass
soldier, but she’s the hardest, coldest warrior I ever met. Yet she
has more compassion in her than any ten people I know.

This is the story of how Bones MC was born, and why Mama and me keep to the
shadows. Since we met, we’ve always had each other’s backs. No
one knows all our secrets, not even those closest to us. Other people have
come and gone in our lives, but it’s always been me and Mama. This is
our story.

 

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Marteeka Karland

 

Sgt. Michael (Mike) Wilbanks

Louisville, Kentucky, 1968

 

“This right here is some happy horseshit.”

I glanced at the woman beside me who spoke in a low, wistful tone.
She’d been on the same plane as I had coming from San Francisco.
Though the bag she carried had an Army medical insignia, she’d dressed
in street clothes. There was a hard look about her that I’d seen many
times during my tours in Vietnam. We hadn’t spoken during the flight,
but she was hard not to notice.

She looked to be in her mid to late twenties, carrying herself with the
confidence of a warrior. My eye had been drawn her way automatically from
the moment she’d stepped on the plane. I’d pegged her as the
most dangerous person on the plane — other than myself. Looking at her now,
I was reevaluating that notion. The woman might be even more dangerous than
I was.

“One’d think those people had jobs to go to.” I
wasn’t sure if that was the “happy horseshit” she was
referring to, but I chose to make it about the protesters. I’d
encountered groups like this in every fucking airport I’d stopped in
on my way back. To say I was spoiling for a fight was the understatement of
the fucking century.

“One would think.” The woman didn’t look my way or seem
interested in conversation. Instead, she was scanning the crowd. Not like
she was looking for someone in particular, though. I’d seen that look
many times. She was looking for a threat. VC on the trail!

I shook my head, shaking away the memory. The war wasn’t over yet,
but it was for me. “You expecting trouble?” Her vigilance — and
my own demons — had my radar pinging.

“Always.”

I had travel plans, but there was something about the woman that made me
walk beside her through the Louisville terminal instead of making my way to
my own gate. She was tall, maybe five-ten, with shoulder-length
strawberry-blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off lean,
muscular arms. Everything about her screamed confidence, strength, and
control. I’d met a few Army nurses who had similar looks about them,
but this woman was different. She carried herself with purpose, her duffle
slung over her shoulder like my own. Like she was on a mission and no one
was going to stop her, even if she had to kill to get them out of her way.
She didn’t speak again or acknowledge me, but she didn’t tell me
to back off, either.

The terminal wasn’t particularly crowded, though there might have
been a hundred people in the area. All I wanted to do was secure the bike
I’d procured the second I’d gotten back to the States and
fucking ride. I’d been offered a chance to join an MC called Iron
Tzars, but I wasn’t sure they were really my thing. Their causes were
noble and any killing they did wasn’t indiscriminate, but I’d
had my fill of death in country. Even for those who needed killing.

Boom!

A shot rang out and all around us people screamed, ducking for cover.

Boom!

A nearby window shattered as the round hit, sending glass shattering to the
floor and the concrete outside. I scanned the crowd for the shooter before
glancing where I knew the woman had stood. Same as me, she was looking
around for the shooter. I saw the exact moment she spotted him. Her features
hardened and she looked angry as fuck as she squatted next to me, behind the
nearby counter. “Fucker’s military.”

“Can’t say I blame him given the reception we got when we
landed. Wouldn’t be my first choice of things to do,
though.”

Her gaze went to mine. “You any good in a fight?”

I shrugged. “Good as any, I guess. Ain’t armed.”

She shook her head. “Me neither.”

“Got a plan?” If she didn’t, I’d come up with one,
but this woman looked like she’d been expecting trouble and knew how
to deal with it. If she knew the soldier in question or had known this was
going to happen, she’d have a plan. I’d follow her lead until
she proved she didn’t know what she was doing. One thing I’d
learned in Nam was that often it wasn’t the most educated man or the
highest-ranking officer who could get you out alive.

“He’s not aiming at anyone in particular. I’ll talk to
him. See if I can get him to surrender peacefully. You position yourself
behind him and be ready.” She gave me a pointed look.
“I’ll be counting on you to take him down before he shoots
me.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Maybe I better try to talk to
him.”

She gave me an exasperated huff. “Do you honestly think I can take
him down myself? I’m strong, but he’s easily twice my
size.”

“You ain’t makin’ this easy, woman.”

“What’s so fuckin’ difficult about it?”

Her scowl was hard enough to trigger my well-trained instincts. I wanted to
snap a salute and bark out, Yes, sir!

“Be ready. Take him down if he looks like he’s gonna shoot me
or anyone else.” She tilted her head, giving me a puzzled stare.
“You ain’t got battle fatigue, do you? You don’t act like
you’ve had all you can take.”

“No. I’m good.” I scrubbed a hand over my face.
“Just don’t like puttin’ a woman out front to use as bait.
I should be the one takin’ the risks.”

“Well, I mean, if you want to risk your life when he’ll
probably be able to shake me off the second I go for him, fine by me. But I
trust you in that regard more than you should trust me. The odds of you
gettin’ killed are way higher than me.”

I stared at her until another boom went off followed almost immediately by
another window shattering. “You’re gonna give me all kinds of
fuckin’ trouble, ain’t you?”

She grinned. “Trouble’s my middle name. Get in position.
I’ll wait until you’re behind him.” She pointed at the
barrier next to the stairs and I saw where she meant.

“Yeah, that’s where I thought I’d wait. I’ll let
you know when I’m ready.”

We stared at each other hard for a moment before she spoke.
“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Sergeant Michael Wilbanks. At least, that was my rank when I was
discharged.”

“Honorable?” She raised an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes and pointed at my Army issue fatigues. “Of course.
Still wearin’ the uniform, ain’t I? Re-upped after my initial
tour. Not this time, though. Had enough of the killin’.”

She nodded. “Dr. Josephine Peyton, Captain, US Army. Or I was. You
can call me Jo. I got a four-six-one discharge for ‘inadequate
personality’ ‘cause I told a general touring our field hospital
to suck my dick when he said the men in my ward were sacrificed for the
greater good, then couldn’t tell me what the fucking greater good
was.”

I couldn’t contain my bark of laughter. “Promise me, when this
is over, you’ll let me take you out on a date.”

Josephine smirked. “Well, I guess that depends on whether
you’re able to take this guy down or not. I won’t go out with a
pussy.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

She shrugged. “If it gets this guy to stop shootin’ the place
up, take it however you like.”

Another boom broke the moment. People screamed all around us, but the only
person I saw was Jo and her pale blue eyes. Before I could think too much
about it, I leaned in and wrapped my hand around the back of her neck,
pulling her in for a hard kiss.

 

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

Author on Facebook

 

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

 

 

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