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PREORDER BLITZ: Bear (Grim Road MC) by Marteeka Karland

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A Bones MC Romance

Grim Road MC, Book 5

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: July 12, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press


 

Olivia: I’ve been sent to infiltrate Grim Road — specifically
looking for any information to do with the man they call Bear. I
didn’t expect to jump into the man’s arms on the first try. I
also didn’t expect to feel an illogical sense of belonging and safety
when he whispered in my ear, “You’re safe.” My deception
will probably get me killed. I’m not a damsel in distress, at least
not how they think. But I think Bear knows I’m lying. He just
doesn’t seem to care.

Bear: Yeah, I know the girl’s lyin’. I also happen to believe
she has a good reason. If I can get her to trust me, then I can make her
demons disappear. But trust is hard-earned. Even if I earn hers, can I trust
her after she started out with lies? Do I really care if she’s lying
as long as she’s mine? Trouble’s following this girl. And
it’s headed straight to Grim Road.

 

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

 

EXCERPT

 

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2024 Marteeka Karland

 

Bear

I hated venturing out into the city. Always made me feel like there was a
target on my fucking back. My true identity was buried so deep even facial
recognition software couldn’t find me, but since I’d been in my
twenties, I’d spent my life running. The government saw to that.

What I thought was a service to help my country turned into a killing spree
on the order of genocide. I’d disobeyed my orders but ended up on a
Terminate with Extreme Prejudice list. Rocket, the closest person I had to a
friend, had brought me to Riviera Beach, Florida, where I’d taken up
with the motorcycle club, Grim Road. The club’s history was long and
distinguished in hiding men like me. I’d been here ever since.

It was nearly midnight on a Saturday. The streets weren’t exactly
teaming, but several bars were open, which was where most people were this
time of night. Some headed home. Others milled about enjoying the evening
air. It wasn’t cool by any means, but the night brought in a breeze
from the ocean that wasn’t stifled by the heat of the sun during the
day. This was my favorite part of the night.

“You lookin’ for somethin’ in particular or just
wishin’ you could go back and change your life choices?” Ringo,
our enforcer, sidled up next to me, handing me a beer.

“Thanks,” I said as I popped the top and took a long swig.
“Just thinkin’. Ain’t much for bein’ out of the
compound.”

“Oh, I know. Which is why I followed.” The other man gave me a
half smirk, half smile.

“Right. That, and Lemon probably told you to have my
back.”

He chuckled. “Little witch is certainly big on that kinda shit. But
no. You’ll be happy to know I did this all on my own.”

I gave him a side eye. “Really. You tryin’ to keep me honest?
Afraid I’m out to betray the club?”

Instantly, Ringo’s whole demeanor changed. “Hey, now. Jumping
to conclusions there, Bear?” Ringo raised an eyebrow. “Of all
the men in this club, you’d be the last one I’d accuse of
betraying the club or anyone in it. Fully expected Rocket to make you his
VP. I’d have supported that.”

I snorted. “No way in fuckin’ hell I want that job. Besides,
Lemon is much better suited.”

“Ain’t sayin’ she’s not. Just sayin’ I was
surprised when Rocket didn’t put your name in the hat for the job long
before Lemon came on the scene.”

The two of us headed down the sidewalk. Kind of felt like we were
patrolling the area. There were several bars and clubs here, and some of
them weren’t altogether safe. A couple times a week, I’d taken
to walking up and down the strip. I wouldn’t say I was looking for
trouble, but I wasn’t opposed to stopping trouble if it found me. The
self-imposed job got me out of the compound as well as extended some measure
of protection to the community which pleased the VP to no end. I
wouldn’t exactly call the city our community, but I got the impression
that’s what Lemon wanted it to be. Crush and Byte worked continually
to strengthen all our identity covers. Rocket wasn’t opposed, so I
took this as my due diligence. I was doing my part, however quietly, to set
an example to the other members. It’s how I did things.

“He offered.” I shrugged. “Not my thing.”

“Oh, really.” The bastard smirked and I wanted to beat the shit
outta him, but restrained myself. Barely. “Was that before or after
you corralled us all and put the idea of voting Lemon in as VP, or
after?”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna do it. Someone had to, and she was the
best choice. You look me in the eye and tell me who else in Grim would be
doing a better job than Lemon, and I’ll volunteer that
bastard.”

Ringo chuckled. “Right. I’ll get on that. But you have to
promise you’ll be the one to break the news to Lemon.”

I snorted. “Not on your fuckin’ life. Girl might be small and
young, but she’s vicious like no man I’ve ever met. You tell her
your own Goddamn self.”

We stared at each other a moment before Ringo’s lips twitched. Once
that happened, we both broke down into chuckles. Neither of us would be
suggesting a replacement for Lemon.

The conversation eased something inside me. Like I knew Ringo had my back
or something where always before I’d kind of felt like I was on my own
in the middle of a crowd. Yeah, I knew if I were really in trouble, outside
of a mission, I could count on my brothers. Always had. But it was different
now.

“Thanks, man. I think I needed that.”

“For what? The reminder that a little five-foot-nothing girl is
making a better vice president than you?”

I snorted. “No, dumbass. The laugh.”

Ringo grinned. “Wait till I tell Lemon you were wanting to replace
her.”

“Whoa. Not cool, bro. Besides, it was you who brought it up. And I
will totally throw you under the bus if you start that
bullshit.”

God, it felt good to banter with Ringo. I’d had that kind of
atmosphere a couple of times on jobs for the CIA, but it was never as
relaxed as it was now.

I took a deep breath and rolled my head on my shoulders, easing some of the
tension that always seemed to be there when I ventured too far from the
compound. It wasn’t that I was scared. It was more like I felt like
someone was watching. Just waiting to make a move.

I could handle myself in an ambush. Fuck knew I’d been in that
situation before and had come out on the other side. Worse for wear maybe,
but the other guys fared far, far worse. Always.

Ringo snorted. “Glad to be of service, brother.”

We continued down the street. The sound of people partying or generally
having a good time filled the night. Each time we passed a bar, the scent of
alcohol hit us. Occasionally someone would be smoking a joint or a cigarette
and those scents would blend in as well. Passing a strip joint brought the
cheap perfume into the mix.

I was about to suggest we go inside one of the strip clubs, just to pass
the time with something different when I spotted a woman making her way down
the sidewalk. Something about the way she moved was just that little bit
off. She glanced behind her, then straight ahead. She hesitated, then
continued moving.

“What’s goin’ on there?” I asked the question more
to myself than to Ringo, but the other man zeroed in on the woman
immediately.

“Not sure. Could be she’s just lost.”

“Right,” I agreed, though I wasn’t so sure. Something
about her posture wasn’t right. “Could be.”

“Uh-huh.”

We both continued forward but at a slower pace. Grim Road MC wasn’t a
secret club, per se. The club was known to the locals, just not where the
clubhouse was or who any of us were beyond our road names. To everyone
around us, we were simply another motorcycle club in the area around Palm
Beach. As such, we wore our colors proudly. So, when the girl got closer to
us, and we slowed down, we wanted her to know what we were.

I stopped while Ringo turned slowly around in a circle with his hands out,
letting her see the emblem on the back of his vest proclaiming him a member
of Grim Road.

She let loose a little sob and ran the rest of the way to us. To my
complete and utter shock, instead of stopping when she reached us, the girl
threw herself into my arms, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck.

And I’ll be Goddamned if my whole body didn’t come alive. Lust
I’d never even dreamed about punched me in the dick before sucking me
into its mouth and making me hard as a fucking pole. The scent of her was
like something out of a dream. Fresh spring flowers and a dash of cinnamon.
She was slender, but I could feel every single one of her slight curves
against my big body. She was so small I could easily wrap my arms all the
way around her with room to spare. Unfortunately, instead of moaning and
finding my mouth with hers, she trembled in my arms. I didn’t think it
was from desire. Her mouth at my ear was a sinful promise. Until she
spoke.

“Angela,” she whimpered. “I need Angela.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said loudly. “Missed you,
too.” I chuckled, swinging her around happily. What I was really doing
was putting my body between her and the two men I now saw following
her.

I didn’t acknowledge the men. Instead, I strode down the sidewalk
with her still in my arms. Ringo had my back. If he couldn’t
discourage the guys, I could get her far enough away she could get inside to
the relative safety of a bar or club. Then, I’d help Ringo help these
motherfuckers have themselves an accident.

When I rounded the corner with her, I set her on her feet, but kept hold of
her hand. Everything inside me rebelled at the separation. I wanted to pull
her solidly against me again but needed to make sure I had one hand free if
Ringo needed me. Stepping from behind the wall, I eyed Ringo. He stood where
I’d left him, but the men were already gone. Ringo took slow looks
around the area as he backed toward me. I gave a low whistle, and Ringo
turned and hurried in my direction.

“Get to the bikes.” Ringo’s order was delivered in a
crisp voice. “They didn’t keep following after you picked her
up. You spoke and they backed off. Still don’t want to take a
chance.”

“To Knox’s place?” I knew we couldn’t take her to
the compound. Not without precautions. If the guys had truly backed off, she
wasn’t in immediate danger. If they hadn’t, we’d
reevaluate when we spotted them.

Ringo nodded. “I’ll be on your six. Just gonna let Rocket know
what’s goin’ on and that we’ll call him when we know
more.”

I grunted, but tugged her with me and hurried to my bike.

 

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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SPOTLIGHT: Kraken’s Release by Darlene Tallman

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Children should be seen and not heard

Moira

Growing up the way I did, in a fundamentalist religion, I learned early on to speak only when spoken to. Otherwise, I paid the penalty with harsh punishments all under the guise of ‘discipline’ so that I would grow up to be a proper lady.

Meeting Belle in college was the best thing I ever did; she was outgoing, outspoken, and vivacious, and I was finally able to come into my own without my past dragging me down.

Until… we were kidnapped and held for more months than I care to remember. All because I found us a job as camp counselors. Since I no longer held my tongue, I was punished harshly in all ways. By the time Belle’s brother’s club found us, I no longer spoke at all. Why bother when all it would earn me was another beating?

Still… if only I didn’t feel like dirt beneath a snake’s belly, I’d enjoy the constant attention from one of the men, Kracken. However, he deserves so much more than I’ll ever be able to be now.

Kracken

I grew up under RiffRaff’s reign as the president of the former Roanoke Raiders MC. Now, however, we’re Royal Bastards, with a brotherhood that spans multiple continents. So when I go with Jingles to find his woman, I have absolutely no expectations beyond having my brother’s back.

Except… despite her horrific injuries and muteness, which the doctors have all stated is her choice, I’m drawn to the petite brunette. She calls to a place in my soul I never realized was empty, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make her mine. I don’t care what they did to her; the past is just that for a reason.

Only… she slips away one night and ends up in the clutches of the very men we rescued her and Belle from many months ago.

This time, however, she’s mine and my fury will be unleashed.

*Suitable for ages 18+ due to adult content, situations, and language*

Link: https://mybook.to/RBMCKrackensRelease

Prologue

Moira, age 5

“Mommy, Mommy, look at my picture!” I exclaimed as I ran into the kitchen after school. I was so excited I missed the look of fear that briefly crossed her face, and I also didn’t see that we weren’t alone.

“Moira.”

One word spoken in that tone had me stopping in my tracks. Fear slithered through me as I faced my father who sat at the kitchen table, his face screwed up in a scowl that let me know I was in serious trouble.

I didn’t say anything. Not because I was suddenly mute, but because he firmly believed in the mantra that ‘Children should be seen and not heard’. I seldom spoke when he was around; the punishments I had endured in my short life had drilled into me the fact that it was better if I kept my mouth shut.

He stood from his seated position and stalked toward me, his face icy and menacing. I could feel my knees knocking as they tried to buckle beneath the long skirt I was forced to wear, but I stood there because to do anything else, like try to escape my unfortunate predicament, would bring forth a harsher response.

“What have I told you before?” he asked, his face scornful as he raised his hand, arcing down to slam it across my cheekbone.

A burst of pain bloomed across the entirety of my face and tears filled my eyes, but I dutifully answered. To refuse to do so would be tantamount to waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. “That children are to be seen and not heard,” I replied, tears steadily falling down my tender face. Silent ones, of course; no wailing or sobs were permitted in his house.

“Yet, here you are, hollering down the house,” he sneered, his teeth gritted as he glared at me in unmistakable anger.

I know better than to say anything further. Unless he specifically asks me a question that he deems answerable, I won’t utter another word. From the corner of my eye, I can see my mother slowly shaking her head as if to remind me not to speak. Except… I already know. My body bears testament to my father’s brutal punishments; scars run up and down my back, buttocks, and upper thighs. All areas that can be hidden by clothing. It wouldn’t do for a man of his prestigious position to leave visible marks where people might talk and gossip about what goes on underneath his roof.

“Go to your room, Moira. Perhaps while we’re eating dinner, your hunger will remind you that you disobeyed me, once again.” His voice was cold and unyielding, devoid of any emotion outside of irrepressible rage. I was used to it by now, but it still hurt because I saw how other parents treated their children during various school activities. Other kids’ daddies hugged and kissed them. Praised them. They smiled and treated them as though they were precious, wanted, loved.

Maybe someday, my mind whispered.

I picked up my backpack which had fallen to the floor when he struck me, and without another glance in either of their directions, I headed to my room, my shoulders slumped as I fought back my ripening tears. My face was damp with them, but it was time to push them away as I had homework to get done. It wasn’t much, just two coloring pages, but I knew if I didn’t do it correctly and receive a gold star, I’d be further punished.

I just wished I knew why he hated me so much. 

And why my mother allowed him to treat me so horribly.

Moira, age 10

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to me,” I whispered as the hot water sluiced down my freshly beaten and battered body.

The water stung when it hit the open wounds, but I focused on getting myself clean before my ten-minute shower was finished. I didn’t think my body could handle being hit again so soon after my latest punishment.

I still didn’t know what I’d done to earn my father’s wrath this time, but at this point, I didn’t think it really mattered. He never had a kind word to say to me; sometimes, he even struck my mother whenever she tried to intervene and keep the peace.

“Moira! Five more minutes,” he yelled through the closed bathroom door. It wasn’t locked and I knew from prior experience he would burst through when my time was up. 

Since I didn’t like how he stared at me if I was caught without my towel wrapped around me, I hurriedly rinsed the rest of the soap from my delicate skin, quietly hissing with the pain, then shut the shower off.

I had just wrapped my towel around my body when he flung the door open. “Get your teeth brushed and get to bed,” he growled out. He sounded disappointed that he hadn’t caught me without the towel, but I’d learned. I nodded my head, knowing that if I didn’t hurry, I’d be punished further for not completing the task he’d given me.

As I quickly brushed my teeth, before I slipped my nightgown over my head, I thought, At least Mama remembered.

She’d cut up five strawberries and had them arranged on my breakfast pancakes. Still, it was a poor substitute for what I knew other kids got; parties, cake, presents. But my life was a living hell for some reason unbeknownst to me. 

I just hoped I survived until I was old enough to break free from the prison I currently lived in.

Moira, age 17

“One of our students has received a full-ride scholarship that covers her dorm, tuition, and books for the next four years, due to her stellar academics,” the principal said to the graduating class.

I kept my outward expression the same solemn one I always wore, but inside, I was jumping up and down with giddiness. Because he was talking about me, and while my father was furious that I was going off to college, he decided that it would be acceptable while he found me a suitable husband.

A husband to continue with the congregation’s plan to keep building. A husband to keep me tied to the house, pregnant, while he did whatever he wanted. A husband to subjugate me, keep me down, force me into a life of servitude.

That might have been how I was raised to be, but deep inside my soul, where my crushed dreams and hopes resided, was a rebellious spirit that knew there was more to life, and I wanted it and all it promised. I wanted to be happy, free, loved. Perhaps it was merely a pipe dream, but I was going to go for it while I was away at school. In my mind, nothing could hold me back from pursuing those dreams.

I hated to break it to him but I planned to never go home. Ever. College was going to be my gateway out of the hell I’d endured for the past seventeen years. Never a kind word; never any affection or words of positivity. It was a miracle, at least to me, that I was relatively normal and not some kind of psychopath.

I managed to sedately walk across the stage to receive my diploma and the thick envelope the principal handed to me that had all the information for my scholarship. I was sure my father would choose my major for me, but I figured I’d be compliant until I turned eighteen, then all bets were off.

Once the ceremony was complete, I made my way over to my parents. My father snatched the envelope away from me then sneered, “If the school wasn’t paying for everything, there’s no way you’d be going to college.”

I didn’t answer, conditioned by years of his abuse to remain silent. He wasn’t telling me anything I wasn’t already well aware of since he had made it clear that he thought further education for a ‘lowly female’ was a waste of good resources.

Shaking his head in disgust, he states, “Let’s get out of here. I have a deacon’s meeting tonight.”

A deacon’s meeting. Somehow, I suspected that the God he had forced down my throat all these years wasn’t like what I had been taught by my peers and reading material. Because one of the things I had known from my own readings was that God was supposed to be about love, light, forgiveness, and goodness. Not abuse. Not torment. Not detestation.

I followed behind him and my mother, my mind whirling on what my future was going to hold while I tried to keep the excitement from showing on my face. No sense in piquing my father’s interest. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

***

“Hi, I’m Belle, and you must be Moira,” the girl stated, grinning at me. “I’m so excited for this, aren’t you?”

Since she asked a direct question, I replied, “Definitely.”

“Do you need me to help you get your stuff put up?” she asked, looking around me.

True to his normal behavior, my father dropped me and my belongings off at the dorm I was staying in, and left me without a backward glance to my own devices.

“I’d like that,” I said. 

The girl sends me a scorching smile before saying, “Cool! My brother and some of his friends helped me out earlier. Oh! They got us a decent-sized mini fridge we can share, and a microwave.”

“I didn’t think we could have those in our dorms,” I replied, as I began hanging up my clothes.

Shaking her head, she corrects my assumption. “No, we can’t have those electric plate things, but Tony, that’s my brother, said he checked about the microwave.”

“That will be handy on those nights when we have to study late,” I stated, pulling out the plain sheets I’d been allowed to get so I could make my bed up.

“Oh, we’ve got to get you some color over here,” Belle said as she saw my matching comforter. “And some jeans for you.”

I glanced down at my long, drab skirt. I was so used to dressing this way, I wasn’t sure I could handle wearing jeans nor bright colored tops. But I was determined to fit in and not stand out, so that meant I’d do it, even if I was uncomfortable.

Moira, age 21

“We’re the perfect age to be camp counselors, Belle,” I whined, flopping back on my bed.

She giggled but didn’t stop putting her clothes away. “So, you want to oversee a bunch of snotty, prepubescent boys and girls all summer long? Yeah, sounds like no fun to me, Mo.” 

“Hot guys, kayaking on the river, swimming in the heated pool they have on the premises for the kids, suntans, adventures,” I retorted, remembering the brochure I saw, as well as the website I had perused for hours. “Did I mention the hot guys, Belle? You know what we’ve met so far at school, and you won’t introduce me to any of your brother’s friends.”

“Okay, first of all, ewww, my brother’s like ten or fifteen years older than me, at least,” she replied, shuddering. “I mean, he’s over thirty now, Moira!”

“Just means he and his friends know what to do is all,” I teased, rolling away from the brush she tossed in my direction. 

To say I had embraced my freedom after leaving home and going to college would be an understatement. Belle was my saving grace; she did what she called an extreme makeover on me and I had stylish clothes, a haircut that flattered my face, and the ability to drink most of the frat boys under the table if I wanted to. I was still a virgin, but it wasn’t because I had any hang ups about being one, I simply hadn’t found anyone I wanted to be intimate with yet. I was confident it would happen, especially if Belle would introduce me to some of her brother’s friends. They were totally awesome; always stopping by to drop off money for Belle, or take us to dinner, although that was usually just her brother. Still, I knew as cool as he was, his friends, or brothers as he called them, were probably the same.

“They want to meet us today?” she asked. I could tell she’s caving a little bit from the thoughtful tone in her voice and I wanted to cheer. 

We graduate after this last semester once summer’s over, so this was kind of our last gasp of freedom before the ‘real world’ intruded and took over our lives. I was hoping I would be able to get her to ask her brother to help me disappear so I didn’t have to go home and face my family, especially my father, as well as the life they’ve chosen for me.

“Yeah, I told them we could meet at the burger shop. We’d kill two birds with one stone since we needed to eat anyhow. Um, one thing, though.” 

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Well, the camp’s down in the mountains of Virginia, not too far from someplace called Roanoke.”

“But they were willing to come here to meet us?” she skeptically asks.

“They live locally, Bella-boo,” I replied. “And before you go all spidey-senses on me, I checked out the website online and everything looked legit.”

Shrugging, she said, “Okay, let me grab my purse and we can go. We wanted to have some fun this summer anyhow, so maybe, just maybe, we’ll add something to our resume that’ll help us with our jobs.” 

“You mean the jobs we’re hoping to get when we graduate?” I asked as we headed out the front door. I got it locked up while she headed to her car. It’s a sweet ride that her brother gave to her after she finally got her driver’s license. 

“Let’s go and get this shit over with,” she grumbled as we climbed into her car. I knew from her tone she’d prefer to stay home and take a nap, but there’d be time enough for that later today once we’ve landed this summer job.

***

“I got a creepy vibe from them that kind of skeeves me out,” Belle admitted to me as we headed back home from meeting our interviewers. The two young men were maybe a few years older than we were, and both were clean-cut, with neatly pressed clothes, including their jeans. Maybe that’s what was bugging her; the men in her brother’s club would label Harold and Roger, the two guys who came to meet us from the camp, as straight up pussies if they saw them. I can’t swear to it, but it also looked like the T-shirts they had on underneath their short-sleeve button down shirts were ironed as well. A tad bit overkill in my opinion. I stopped ironing wrinkles from my clothing when I left home. All of my clothes were wash and wear, for the most part.

“Eh, they said the camp is heavily religious, so maybe that’s part of their thing? Modesty or something?” I questioned. 

Because of my background, I was used to dressing in a more conservative way that didn’t expose a lot of skin. Even now with an updated wardrobe, my tank tops didn’t have spaghetti straps like Belle’s did; they had wider straps that covered up my bra straps. My shorts were more Bermuda style, and I didn’t wear capris, I wore jeans.

“Considering our shorts have to be no shorter than an inch above our knees, and any tank tops we bring have to be the thick straps, plus our bathing suits must be one piece? I’d say so,” Belle grumbled. “We’re going to have to go shopping, because for sure, I think the only thing I own that I can actually pack and take with us would be my underwear, bras, and socks. Hell, we even have to wear close-toed sneakers! How on God’s green earth are toes going to turn someone on, for fuck’s sake?” she asked, her voice growing louder even though she’s sitting right next to me in the car. “Hell, I will need new underthings, because mine are all lacy and sheer. Ugh. This is going to be more of a problem than it’s worth.”

“Okay, so the wardrobe is less than stellar, Belle, but what they’re going to pay us weekly will definitely help us out financially next semester,” I replied. Since I’m now living off-campus with Belle in a bungalow that her brother rented for her, I have to work in order to have spending money.

She grumbled before she stated, “I know, and I’ll do it, but right now, I reserve the right to bitch about it.”

“Fair enough,” I teased.

***

“We’re so fucked,” Belle muttered beneath her breath as the nondescript white van we were thrown into moves sedately and steadily through town so as not to cause any outward suspicion. 

“What are we going to do?” I asked, my eyes trained on the two men sitting in the front seats.

“Whatever they ask, within reason, until my brother figures out something happened, and rescues us,” she advised.

“How long do you think that’s going to take?” I questioned, my lips quivering. I’ve faced the wrath of my father, but it’s easier to face the devil you know than the one you’ve never met.

“No clue, especially since all the trackers I know Sleeper had on me are currently either in my car, or on the ground from where they ripped everything away from me and tossed them. But he and his club are resourceful. It may not be next week, Mo, but hang tough and we’ll get out of this.”

“I should’ve listened to you when you said you had a bad vibe,” I whispered, tears coursing down my face. “Maybe we should’ve had  your brother check into them.”

“Well, no use crying over spilled milk, we’ll work on getting out of this,” she promised.

I wish I had known then how broken I’d be by the time her brother’s club found us; I’d have probably killed myself. Because no one wants a piece of garbage like I’ve become.

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BOOK BLITZ: Crow’s Revenge by Nikki Landis

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Title: Crow’s Revenge
Series: Devil’s Murder MC #5
Author: Nikki Landis
Genre: MC Paranormal Romantic Suspense
Tropes: Forced Proximity/Revenge/Kidnapping
Found Family/One Bed/Fated Mates
Release Date: June 26, 2024
BLURB
For six months, Crow has been consumed with vengeance.
It’s become the driving force for nearly every decision in the club ever since his father, the former president Rook, was murdered.
But when the woman he loves is kidnapped, and a vicious, unpredictable enemy takes Bella, he’ll have to join forces with unlikely allies.
Nothing will prevent him from rescuing her, even if he must travel into the heart of his enemy’s territory and face the beast head-on.
Revenge is served in ways he could never imagine.
What happens when your enemy isn’t your enemy?
What if everything Crow believed to be true was a distortion of the facts, twisted to manipulate his father in a game of lies?
The past exposes painful truths when he receives an unexpected visitor. Can he forgive the wrongs that destroyed his parents and nearly ripped his club apart?
Now all the cards are on the table, the hand has been dealt, and Crow will have to win the game before he loses Bella, his club, and his sanity.
 
Crow must be read before Crow’s Revenge. It’s also highly recommended to read Talon first. For best enjoyment, the series should be read in order.
 
Crow’s Revenge is a full-length, dark romance with a paranormal twist, violence, biker slang, forced proximity, revenge, torture, and a possessive, protective outlaw president willing to risk everything to protect his club, his sister, and the woman he loves.
PURCHASE LINKS
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
ALSO AVAILABLE
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited
AUTHOR BIO
Nikki Landis is the USA Today & International Bestselling, Multi-Award-Winning Author of over 50 romance novels in the MC, reverse harem, paranormal, dystopian, and science fiction genres. Her books feature deadly reapers, dark alpha heroes, protective shifters, and seductive vampires along with the feisty, independent women they love. There’s heart-throbbing action on every page as well as fated mates and soul bonds deep enough to fulfill every desire.
AUTHOR LINKS

NEW RELEASE: Morgue by Marteeka Karland

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Book Title: Morgue

Author Name: Marteeka Karland

Date Published: June 14, 2024

Genre: Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

About the Book:

Dorothy: Spring Break turned into my worst nightmare. Drugged and held against my will, the brutality I witness seems too horrible to be real. Unable to escape, unable to do anything other than await my fate, I nearly gave up hope. Then he burst through the door like an avenging angel. My very own angel of death.

Morgue: I’m a straight-up killer. It’s what I’ve trained for my entire adult life. I got my road name because I’ve put more men in the morgue than all my brothers combined. So when we rescue a group of women being held by human traffickers, I did what I do best. I killed. But not for all the women we rescued. For her. Dorothy. My very own angel of mercy. Now that I have her, I’ll do anything to keep her. I just hope she can accept what I am and not condemn my soul to hell.

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

Retailers:

https://books2read.com/MorgueBonesMC

Changeling Press:

https://www.changelingpress.com/morgue-iron-tzars-mc-11-b-3638

READ AN EXCERPT

Dorothy

Moans of the other women in the shitty little shack filled the air. I knew the feeling. My head throbbed and every muscle in my body ached. The rooms were paper thin so we all could hear the screams of the others around us. The cruel laughter of men. The frightened whimpers of the women. And girls. I had absolutely no idea where I was or how long I’d been there, but I knew it wasn’t Kansas.

“Levántate, perra. Afuera.”

“I don’t understand.” It wasn’t a new thing. And I’d paid for not knowing Spanish more than once since I’d been taken.

“¡Ahora!” The guy knew I didn’t understand. It felt like he took pleasure in the fact I didn’t understand so he could single me out. I shrank back, trying to make myself smaller in the face of the brutality I knew was about to happen. He lunged forward and backhanded me before grabbing my arm and shoving me out of the tiny room I shared with five other girls.

I hit the floor, my knees slamming onto the hard dirt. Pain shot from my knees up my thighs, and I cried out. When I tried to get up, the guy kicked me in the side. My head spun with all the sudden movements. I thought it was also some kind of lingering effect of the drugs they kept shooting me full of. They did it to everyone who fought. Unless they wanted us to fight. I got dosed often.

“Perra estúpida,” he muttered. I got the “stupid” part, and I could only assume the other was “bitch,” but it could have been anything. The kick knocked the breath out of me and sent pain exploding through my ribs. I groaned but knew better than to make too much of a fuss. Noise drew attention I didn’t want. Attention meant someone was about to hurt me worse than I already was.

“¡Escuchen!” The big brute swept his hand through the air, obviously wanting everyone’s attention. He spoke in a string of rapid-fire Spanish I didn’t understand. I was pretty sure something horrible was about to happen and I sincerely hoped it didn’t have anything to do with me. I’d been here maybe a week. Seemed like longer. I was surprised this guy or the men and women with him hadn’t done more than terrorize me or the other women. Though I was sure the qualifier “yet” needed to be added. There was no way they’d brought us here for tantalizing conversation. Though I’d been smacked around a lot and was covered in bruises, they hadn’t seriously harmed me. Again, there was that fucking qualifier hanging over my head.

I crawled very slowly to the wall where the other women were, trying not to make sudden moves so he didn’t bring his focus back to me. The one thing I knew for sure — in spite of the language barrier — was that I absolutely did not want any of these men to focus on me for too long.

All the women around me were whimpering and trembling, looking as terrified as I felt. A few looked like they might have checked out and I didn’t blame them. If I knew how, I probably would too. Fighting back didn’t seem like the smart thing to do if I wanted to live. While I knew there were fates worse than death, I wasn’t ready to contemplate them just yet. I was sure, at some point, I’d have to face that decision, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

More rapid-fire Spanish followed as one of the other men dragged a young woman down the hall and tossed her to the ground so she skidded several feet before rolling to her knees with a whimper. She’d been beaten, one side of her face swollen. I hadn’t seen her before, but, given the track marks on her arms and how badly she’d been beaten, I was certain she’d attempted to escape. They’d likely dosed her as much as they’d dosed the rest of us when we got out of line. Only, this time, I got the impression this guy was done taking shit.

“Esto es lo que les pasa a las perras que no me obedecen. Si no me obedeces, esto te pasará.”

I didn’t understand. But I didn’t have to. The next thing I knew, he’d drawn out a machete. The girl screamed and tried to scramble back only to be held in place by two more men. A third helped them wrestle her to the ground onto her back. Once they had her down, the third guy held her legs at the ankles. There was a whoosh as the blade cut through the air and came down on her right thigh.

Blood arced when he raised the machete and brought it down again on the same leg. It took three more tries before he hacked her leg off and started on the other one. Everyone screamed, myself included. When anyone turned away, there were men to force them to turn back. And watch.

Before he got her second leg hacked off, the woman was unconscious. There was blood splatter everywhere, but once a limb was completely severed, the bleeding slowed dramatically. Still, the men tied tourniquets above the stumps.

I’m sure I was one of the women screaming. If I was, though, I had no memory of it. All I could process was a young woman getting her legs chopped off.

“Esto es lo que sucede cuando intentas escapar.” He spat on her. “Una puta sin piernas es más fácil de follar. ¿Sí?”

I stared at the unconscious woman. Though he hadn’t killed her outright, I was sure she wouldn’t last long. One of the men grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of the room, leaving a trail of blood as he went.

As I watched, one of the men approached me with an evil smirk on his face. “In case you’re wondering,” he said in thickly accented Spanish, “He said this is what happens when you try to escape, Americana.” He grinned. “And a whore without legs is easier to fuck.” He snorted a laugh. “I happen to agree. So, I’m really hoping you try to escape too.”

I barely held back a sob of despair. I knew he was trying to elicit a response from me, likely to give him a reason to hit me. There were some of us who tried to fight back when they came for us, but we were always overpowered. So far, all they’d done was beat me, but most of the others had been brutally raped and I knew that’s what they were building up to. This was a whorehouse of sorts. Only, the women didn’t get paid. The men who “owned” us did. A place where we were all used and trafficked.

The guy backhanded me when I didn’t respond to him. I fell back with a cry, covering my head with my arms and whimpering.

“Don’t worry, bitch. You won’t suffer long. I doubt you make it a month once we start breaking you in.” He gave a bark of laughter before kicking me.

My head swam from both the blow to my face and the remaining drugs in my system. More men crowded us in the tiny corridor only to shove us into various rooms. There were five more women in the room I landed in. Three filthy mattresses lay on the floor and a bucket sat in one corner for us to relieve ourselves. That’s the way it had been since I’d been here.

The next thing was the men coming to shoot us full of whatever drug they were using. I suspected it was heroin. A couple of the girls screamed while the other three complied easily. Probably because they were addicted or figured it was better to endure whatever happened next while blissfully numb than stone-cold sober. I understood. While I couldn’t put up much of a fight this time, I wanted to. Desperately. I hadn’t given up hope of getting out of here alive. Not really. Not yet. But I wasn’t too ashamed to admit I was fucking close.

A man held my arm while another jabbed a needle into my arm at the bend of my elbow and pressed the plunger. The pain of the dull needle sinking into my arm was soon replaced by a sickening euphoria. My eyes glazed over and my body went limp. I was still conscious, but… detached.

That was when one of the men shoved me onto a mattress and pulled at my clothes. He was breathing heavily and talking in Spanish, but I got the gist of what he was saying. He was going to fuck me. I caught the word “Americana” and figured he was taking bragging rights by fucking the American woman. They all looked at my blonde hair and blue eyes, going so far as to pry my eyes open and touch my eyeball, like a child testing if something was real. Maybe they thought I had contacts or something. Many of them felt my hair, fisting it and mimicked wrapping it around their cocks. I imagined far worse was going to happen shortly.

I whimpered but couldn’t even form words to tell the guy to stop. Not that it would have done any good. I batted at him weakly, but he didn’t seem to notice much less even acknowledge I was trying to fight him off.

Once he had me naked from the waist down, the guy crawled on top of me, pressing me into the filthy mattress. He reached between us and freed his cock. I could feel the head of it touching me. I shuddered, gagging as I pushed at him weakly.

“No!” I tried to shout the word at him, but it was a whisper at best. Just as he was about to penetrate me, there was a huge bang and the door splintered, throwing pieces of wood all around the room. I was sure some were embedded in my skin, but I still couldn’t do more than try to roll away from the man on top of me.

He shouted, pushing himself to his feet. Once his weight was off me, I crawled as best I could to the corner of the room and tucked myself into a ball. It was all I was capable of. I couldn’t even cry. Oh, tears poured freely from my eyes, but I didn’t have the strength to sob out my fear and frustration.

I thought there were screams all around me, not only in this room but in others nearby, but it was hard to tell. The more I tried to move, the more the room spun. Somewhere in the background of all that, and the ringing in my ears, I knew a fight raged. Was it more men coming to chop off the legs of someone else? Oh, God!

Then someone grabbed at my arms. I was helpless to stop them. I thought I was even more groggy than I had been when I was about to be raped. Whatever drug they’d given me had started to take hold. It was only the adrenaline coursing through my veins that kept me conscious.

“Hold on, honey. We’re gettin’ you outta here.”

Author Info:

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: https://www.facebook.com/experiencethemagicmk

TEASER: Knox (Grim Road MC) by Marteeka Karland

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Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: May 10, 2024

 

 

Evelyn: My life fell apart right before my eyes. The fire and losing
everything we had was bad enough, but when my boyfriend’s father
convinces me to go to the hospital, the one thing me and my kids had left
evaporates like a plume of smoke when I see their father with his…
pregnant wife. Not only do I feel like a complete fool, I’m left to
explain things to my children. Then there’s Knox. He’s my
boyfriend Danny’s older brother. The one everyone thought was dead.
The one who’s an older, bigger, scarier version of Danny. He is so
gentle with me and my children, so protective when he has no reason to be.
He’s also the man I have no hopes of resisting.

Knox: I let my family think I was dead for fifteen years. There were
multiple reasons. Not the least of which was securing a steady income for my
father after Danny blew through everything he had. I tried to keep tabs on
them, especially after Mom died, but I didn’t dig deep enough. As a
result, Danny’s girlfriend, Evelyn, is in the crosshairs of something
very sinister. Once I find out who’s responsible, there will be hell
to pay. No matter who brought death to those I love, I will make them pay.
When I do, I’ll be putting the loyalty of my club to the test. When
it’s all over, I hope Evelyn will be able to forgive me. Because
I’ve fallen in love with my brother’s woman and no one will come
between us. No one.

 

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

 

 

EXCERPT

Evelyn

 

Fire.

Smoke.

I clung to Luke and Aneshya, trying my best to shield them from the chaos
around us. We coughed as we tried to make our way down the hall, but the
smoke was so thick, it was pitch-black inside the cramped space.

“We’ve gotta get out of here!” Mr. Knoxville from across
the hall was the children’s grandfather. The man always looked out for
us, even when his son couldn’t. “Evelyn!”

“We’re over here!” I clutched my children close. We had a
damp bed sheet over the three of us, but it wouldn’t do much for long.
The smoke was getting thicker and there was no way a bed sheet was going to
protect us from fire. “I can’t find Danny! He was just
here!” I coughed and coughed as I sucked in a lungful of smoke with
every breath. Luke tried to push me down, but I resisted. I needed to get my
family to safety and that included Danny.

“Mommy, we need to go!” Aneshya sounded frantic, a round of
coughing taking her as well. Luke stopped shoving at me and blanketed his
sister, taking her to the floor.

“Crawl, Aneshya! Mom! Come on! Now!” Luke was only twelve, but
he was protective of both me and his sister. “Grandpa! Make Mom follow
us!” He tried to take charge and I knew he was right. But my long-term
boyfriend and the kids’ father, Danny, had been beside me only a
moment before. I couldn’t just leave him.

Mr. Knoxville suddenly appeared in front of me. He was in his late
seventies, but the man was fit and strong as an ox. And protective as they
came. I thought it might be where Luke learned it from. If Danny had
inherited the trait from his father, he never showed it to me. Or the kids,
really. As evidenced by the fact that it was his father and son trying to
take care of me and Aneshya instead of Danny.

“Don’t worry about him, Evelyn.” Mr. Knoxville looked
hard and almost dangerous. When he looked like this, it made me want to do
anything he said without question. “He’s a grown man.
You’ve got to get the children out. Now!”

“But Danny –”

“Will be fine. Or he won’t. Your first priority — my first
priority — is you and the children.” I’d never heard Mr.
Knoxville speak so harshly to me. He was always the one to help me when
Danny didn’t come home. Or when Danny got mean. The kids were older,
but I didn’t like leaving them alone. Mr. Knoxville was always so
sweet and kind. But then, this situation didn’t call for sweet and
kind. “Now get them and yourself out of here, Evelyn!
Now!”

Luke and Aneshya were crawling on the floor down the hallway of our
apartment building. Mr. Knoxville pushed me to my belly and urged me to
crawl after the kids. The smoke was more tolerable low to the ground but
still surrounding us. I choked with every breath. The fire was mostly behind
us, but it was spreading. I thought I could hear sirens off in the
distance.

“Keep movin’, girl! Don’t stop!”

“Luke!” I called out to my son, the smoke so thick and dark
I’d lost sight of him and Aneshya as I lagged behind.

“We’re at the stairs!” Luke coughed again, his voice
faint in the distance separating us. I could hear Aneshya coughing too. I
hated that they had trouble breathing but was also grateful they were on the
move. “Hurry, Mom!”

“I’m coming, Luke!” I crawled faster. Mr. Knoxville
touched my ankle, urging me forward each time I hesitated. “Keep
going! Get your sister out!”

“You keep goin’ too, girl. We’re gonna get outta
here!” Mr. Knoxville’s voice was tight, and he coughed several
times as he continually shoved me along.

The roar of the flames was growing louder. Heat billowed in a great rush
from the flames I was certain were ready to bear down on us.

I heard the children cry out. Pain? Were they hurt?

“LUKE! ANESHYA!” When I sucked in another breath to scream
again, I breathed in smoke which started a coughing fit. My lungs burned and
spasmed, making it nearly impossible to take in another breath. I tried to
keep moving, but it was all I could do to breathe. Panic tightened around my
neck. With the smoke suffocating me, it really felt as if someone were
actually strangling me.

I stumbled to my feet, needing to get to my kids as fast as I could and
crawling wasn’t getting it done. I called out to them with every
breath I could suck in. Then strong hands grabbed my shoulders. In the
blackness of the smoke all around me, those hands were the first indication
I had there was someone in front of me.

“Get down.” The gruff voice was muffled, and I realized he had
on a mask. Firefighter? Then he shoved me back to the floor and pushed me to
give me direction. “Keep crawling that way. The stairs are a few yards
in front of you.”

“My children! Did you see –”

“They’re on the way out.”

“Mr. Knoxville’s behind me –”

“I’ll get him.”

“Danny –”

“I said go, woman! We’ll be right behind you.” He urged
me onward, and all I could do was crawl in the direction he said. I hoped,
since he’d sent me in that direction, he knew the way was clear. I
trusted that my children were in that direction.

The farther I went, the heavier the smoke. Right up until I descended half
the flight of stairs on my hands and knees. Coughing, I stood and hurried as
fast as I could. With the receding smoke, it was easier to breathe. To
move.

“Mom!”

“Luke?” I sobbed in relief as I recognized my son’s
voice.

“There she is, Luke!” Aneshya sounded strong. Not like
she’d been hurt or couldn’t breathe.

Then I was in the arms of my son, my daughter clinging tightly to me as
they moved me out of the apartment building. I barely made it out into the
grass before I collapsed, my legs finally giving out. I clutched Aneshya to
me as tightly as I could. Luke had his arms around me but was still trying
to get me to move farther away from the building.

“It’s not safe here, Mom. We need to get farther
back.”

“Mr. Knoxville.” Panic filled me. Did the older man get out?
“He was right behind me. Where is he?”

“The fireman said he’d make sure you both got out.”
Aneshya tugged at me, following her brother’s lead as usual.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s go.”

I sucked in breath after breath of clean air. Each breath seemed to bring
on more coughing, but I managed to get it mostly under control. “Where
are the other firemen?” I looked around, not seeing anyone other than
a few bystanders. I could hear sirens off in the distance getting closer,
but no one was here yet.

“Not sure,” Luke said with a frown. “First responder,
maybe? But he said he would get you and Mr. Knoxville out and for us to go
on.”

“We were waiting for you.” Aneshya’s voice broke and
tears made tracks through the streaks of soot on her face. “I thought
you’d gotten lost.”

It was then Mr. Knoxville stumbled through the same exit we’d managed
to escape through. The fireman was right behind him.

“Mr. Knoxville! Oh, my God! Are you all right?” I hurried in
his direction, trying to put the man’s arm around my shoulders so he
could lean on me if necessary. I should have known better. My knees were
weak already. There was no way I could hold the older man’s weight.
Instead, I found him holding me up with an arm around my waist as he urged
us farther away from the building which was more and more engulfed in
flames.

The guy coming up behind Mr. Knoxville was huge. He towered over all of us
and was solidly built. He still had on a full-face mask with SCBA gear but I
could see his face through the clear plate. The man looked familiar, but I
couldn’t quite place him.

“Please! My boyfriend, Danny! He’s still in there
somewhere!”

Instead of going back inside immediately, he turned to Mr. Knoxville.

“Up to you.” Mr. Knoxville had leaned over with his hands
braced on his knees while he coughed, same as the rest of us.
“Fuckin’ prick left his children in a burnin’
fuckin’ buildin’.”

“What?” I gasped in surprise, looking up at Mr. Knoxville. Not
only had I never heard the other man swear like that, but he was accusing
Danny — his own son — of deserting us in a crisis. “No! Danny and I
have had our problems, but he’d never leave his kids. We got
separated. He’s still in there. Probably looking for us! You have to
find him!”

The firefighter took off the mask, and it was like I was looking at a
slightly older, bigger, much scarier version of Danny. I sucked in a
breath…

… then immediately started coughing. Luke was at my side when I
collapsed on the ground on my knees. I fell forward onto my hands in the
grass, coughing uncontrollably.

“We need to get Mom to the hospital.” Luke handed me a bottle
of water. I had no idea where that came from, but I took a gulp before
promptly coughing again. I glanced over at Aneshya. She had a worried
expression on her face but wasn’t coughing anymore. Luke looked like
he wasn’t hurt either, but I had to be sure. Both of them were
streaked with soot.

“Are… you…” I gasped. “Are you…
hurt?”

“No, Mom.” Luke was quick to reassure me.
“Aneshya’s fine too. Drink some more.”

The next thing I knew an oxygen mask was placed over my face and the Danny
look-alike was in front of me, holding my gaze with a steady one of his
own.

“Take deep breaths, honey.” He put what looked like an inhaler
in the hole at the side of the mask and squeezed it. I felt the mist from
the spray enter my lungs as I inhaled. I still coughed, but after a few
seconds, the pressure in my chest relaxed a little. After another lungful of
air and more coughing, he did it again. After that, it wasn’t long
until the pressure in my chest eased almost entirely. I still coughed, but
it felt different. Like the coughing was actually helping to clear my lungs
instead of being a futile effort.

“Mom?” Aneshya looked up at me with worry in her expression.
She’d wiped her face with something, washing some of the soot off, but
smearing it over her face.

“I’m okay, sweetie.”

“Fire and EMS are on the way.” The man kneeling in front of me
moved the mask long enough to urge me to drink some more water before
replacing the mask. “Just take some slow, deep breaths. I gave you an
inhaler. Got something to help with the spasms in your lungs. Might make
your heart race a bit, but nothing too bad.”

“Who are you?”

He glanced over at Mr. Knoxville who was looking at him with a combination
of pride and relief. If there were tears in the gruff old man’s eyes,
I was sure it was from the smoke. “Denver. Boy…”

“It’s Knox.” He stood before his face split into a grin.
“It’s good to see you, Pop.”

 

 

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 Contact Links

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today


RABT Book Tours & PR

AUTHOR INTERVIEW: AK Nevermore – featuring Maw of Mayhem MC series

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Today, we have author AK Nevermore joining us at Books+Coffee=Happiness. She’s going to share a little about her book, Grimdarke, and answer some interview questions… Are you ready to learn more about Ms. Nevermore?

Let’s dive in, shall we?

Q: How long have you been writing, and how long did it take before your first book was published?
AK: I’ve been writing quote unquote “Seriously” for about seven years… and it took me a little over six of those to publish my first book.

Q: What is the most challenging part of writing a book?
AK: I think each book has its own unique set of challenges. For my Mayhem books, it’s fitting everything I want into a novella length format. For my Price of Talent series, it’s juggling points of view. And for the Dae Diaries, that’s working with a single point of view. Anthologies are a whole ‘nother can of worms.

Q: When you’re writing, what comes first for you – the plot or the characters?
AK: Neither. It’s usually just a scene or a concept and I build off of that. My most recent manuscript was born from a visual of a woman taking a smoke break in an alley. The next Mayhem book is going to be built around my main character chucking a manhole cover into Fae.

Q: What inspired the idea for your book – Grimdarke?
AK: It had been a concept that was kicking around in the back of my brain that I hadn’t really given too much attention to, I was busy with other projects. But then I got the opportunity to write for a digital publisher and they asked me if I had any ideas. I was like, um… yes? So my motorcycle club of cat shifters was more born out of necessity than inspiration.

Readers love getting to know more about authors, so we’re going to take a slightly more personal detour…

Q: If you could pick your top 3 favorite books of all time, what would they be?
AK: I read really eclectically, so bear with me, but my top three are probably The Mists of Avalon, A Clockwork Orange, and The Big Sleep.

Q: Do you have any hobbies? If so, can you tell us about them?
AK: Yeah, I love rehabbing antiques, I’m a certified chef and I was really into beekeeping at one point. That is definitely something I’d love to start up again. It got super crazy, and we were at the point we needed to seriously consider putting in a bee yard. Bears are nuts around here so it’s not like we can just have boxes.

Q: What’s your favorite movie genre? Do you have an all-time favorite movie?
AK: I love fantasy, sci-fi, and dumb comedy. I don’t know if I have a favorite, but it probably has Christopher Walken in it if I do.

Q: If there was one thing you could say to your readers, what would it be?
AK: Thank you. There are so many great books out there, I’m really honored that you’ve chosen to read mine. I hope they made you laugh or let you escape for a little while!

Thanks for joining us at Books+Coffee=Happiness! It was a pleasure to have you on the blog today!

Readers… want to know more about Ms. Nevermore’s book, Grimdarke? Keep reading…

Title: Grimdarke

Series: The Maw of Mayhem MC

Genre(s): Paranormal Motorcycle Club Romantic Erotica

Release Date: Feb 2, 2024

Book Description:

Out of options and on the run after her psychotic father’s released from prison, Kit Parson heads to the only place she might be safe from him, the Maw of Mayhem MC. The unexpected move buys her time, but also puts her at risk. Surrounded by shifters, her inner cat begs to be released, and after witnessing a brutal attack on her mother as a child, she refuses to let the monster out. Totally doable, provided no bodily fluids are ever exchanged.

That takes the MC’s hot-as-hell VP, Grimdarke James, officially off the table. Mourning the recent murder of the club’s alpha and struggling to control his inner cat, the tattooed Viking god is on thin ice. If he goes feral again, he’ll be put down. Which makes his cat’s insistence that Kit belongs to him problematic, upsetting the delicate balance of the MC’s internal politics, and the woman blackmailing Grim.

But when Kit’s father catches up with her, Grim has no choice but to trust his cat, and Kit can’t deny their chemistry. Can they hold on to each other when everything is trying to tear them apart? After a gruesome triple murder propels them deeper into the paranormal world, they find themselves with unlikely allies, even as their enemies threaten to destroy everything they hold dear.

Excerpt:

“Mind if I join?”

She glanced over, then away, all dismissive.

Yeah, she remembered him. Challenge accepted, baby.

A scarf held back hair so dark it shone blue where the light hit it, and those almond eyes — Okay, those were pretty much telling him to fuck off, but he could smell the lie. She was into him. He grinned, fingering the memory of her fist hitting his jaw, and she flipped a long ebony lock over her shoulder.

— want —

Yes, we do… Damn, what the fuck did MK have the heat set at in here? Grim pushed up the sleeves of his Henley, and she snuck another peek at him. Her gaze trailed the tattoos spiraling from his knuckles to his forearms, then jumped to the ink at his open collar, following it up his throat —

Eyes whiskey-dark caught his, her pupils blowing wide just like that night. He palmed across the growing wet spot on his thigh, nostrils flaring at the punch of her arousal in the air. Mmm. Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about… Grim stretched a leg behind her stool, juddering it closer.

“Hey! You mind?” She pulled away, wobbling. He shot out a hand to steady her, and she bit back a gasp at his touch. Fuck, she was just a little thing under that damned hoodie.

”.Careful“ He grinned, releasing her to pour another. “I’m Grim. Didn’t expect you to follow me home. You stalking me, baby?”

Her eyes widened comically. “What? I — no… No! God, are you serious?” She shook her head, clearly flustered and pissed off about it, those lush lips of hers flattening to match her glare. “What kind of a name is Grim?”

A shitty one. He shrugged. “I’d ask my mama, but she’s thirty-two years dead. And you are?”

Color bloomed over cheeks and she winced. “Kit — I mean, Katherine. And my stool was fine where it was.”

Goddamn, she was fucking adorable on top of gorgeous. “Mmm. I like you close. Wouldn’t want you to cut out on me again.”

She snorted like she was daring him to stop her if she tried.

Oh baby, please try…

Buy Links: https://books2read.com/u/mV2qKr

ABOUT AK NEVERMORE:

AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.

Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.

AK pays the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She belongs to the Authors Guild, is an RWA chapter board member, volunteers for far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.

Author Links:

CHECK OUT THESE FREEBIES FROM AK NEVERMORE!

Free prequel download: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/am476oiskk

Free bites of Mayhem:  https://aknevermore.com/books/grimdarke/bites-of-mayhem/

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

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Hounds of Hell MC, Book 3

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense

Date Published: April 19, 2024

 

 

Sadie — I finally found the courage to escape my abusive boyfriend, but I
didn’t make it far. I’m holed up in a small Virginia town called
Mercy. There will be no mercy for me if my ex finds me. Thanks to Axel, the
gorgeous biker who towed my car to his garage, I have a place to stay and a
job at the town’s greenhouse. I also have the hope that I might have a
second chance at love one day, with Axel.

Axel — When I got called to tow a broken-down car to my garage, I found
the beaten and battered angel who owns it on the run from the devil. Here in
Mercy, with me, she’s healing and learning to live again. When her ex
figures out Sadie’s here, even his mafia ties can’t protect him
from me. His entire mafia family can’t take back what’s mine and
there’s going to be hell to pay when they try.

EXCERPT

Axel

 

It was a cold February morning. Alexander Harper had just sat down with his
first cup of coffee when his phone hummed in his pocket. When he pulled it
out and looked at the screen, he saw the call was from Cowboy Pete’s,
a local gas station just off the interstate.

“This is Axel,” he said, using the road name he’d been
given by Razor when he’d been a prospect.

“Hey, hon. How are you?” He recognized Elsie Damron’s
voice. She’d worked at the gas station since he was a kid.

“Cold,” he said. “What can I do for you
today?”

“A young lady stopped for gas a little while ago,” Elsie
explained. “She filled it up but now her car won’t
start.”

“You give her bad gas?” Axel asked, grinning.

“No,” Elsie said. “Well, I hope not. There’s smoke
rolling out from under the hood. Looks like it’s overheating to me.
Can you come take a look at it?”

“Yeah.” Axel knew the quiet morning was too good to be true.
Putting the call on speaker, he placed his phone on his desk, grabbing a tie
from his desk drawer to pull his hair back from his face. “Did you
already call Tyler? I appreciate the business, but it would be a lot closer,
and cheaper, to tow it to his place.”

“Yeah, I know,” Elsie said, her voice dropping to a loud stage
whisper. “But I think you would be better for this particular
situation.”

“Okay, I’ll head that way,” he told her.
“What’s she driving?”

“He’s going to come get you,” Elsie said to someone there
with her. To Axel, she said, “Yeah, it’s an older sedan. A
Lincoln, I think. What model year is your car?”

Axel couldn’t make out what the other person said.

“It’s a 2002 model,” Elsie told him.

“Give me thirty minutes,” Axel said, ending the call.

Taking his coffee with him, Axel headed back into the shop. His twin
brother Ryder was working on an SUV brought in yesterday. Ryder looked up
when he saw Axel approach.

“Where you off to?” Ryder asked.

“Got to tow someone in,” Axel told him. “I’ll be
back.”

When Axel reached Cowboy Pete’s with the tow truck, there were
several cars there. They had a halfway decent grill inside the station, and
it was a popular breakfast stop for town regulars and travelers alike. He
pulled into the lot and parked, heading in to have Elsie point out the lady
and her car.

Elsie grinned when she saw him at the counter. “Thanks for coming,
hon. She’s a couple of spaces down from where you parked. The black
Lincoln.”

“You bet,” he told her, seeing it in the window behind the
counter where the older lady stood.

“Axel?” Elsie called as he headed for the door.

“Yeah?”

“If I can do anything for her, you let me know, okay?” And the
kind older woman meant it.

“Will do,” he told her, curious now about what he was walking
into.

Axel returned to the tow truck, spotting the black Lincoln that was just
three spaces to the right of him with no cars parked in between. It looked
like someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. Walking up to the car,
Axel tapped on the driver’s window. The lady jumped in the seat,
startled. Axel saw a flash of red curls before she peered up at him through
the window.

Now Elsie’s words made sense. The young woman’s left eye was
black and almost swollen shut. Her nose was swollen and bruised, her lip
split. Someone had beat the fuck out of this little lady. Slowly, she opened
the door and got out of her car. Her careful movements told him her face
wasn’t the only thing that hurt her this morning. Axel stepped back to
give her room as she closed the door and leaned back against it.

The way she wrapped her arms protectively around herself and the fear in
her green-eyed gaze had him pausing. Now he knew why Elsie called their
garage. Tyler wasn’t a bad guy, but he was gruff and lacking in most
social niceties.

This young woman before him looked like she’d been through hell and
was expecting more.

“Hi there,” Axel said. “Elsie called me to come look at
your car. What’s going on?”

“It overheated I think,” she said quietly. “I was okay
for a couple of hours. But then it would heat up and it would start smoking.
I would stop and let it cool off. I stopped here to get gas and let it cool
off again. When I tried to restart it this time, it
wouldn’t.”

“Would you pop the hood for me?” Axel asked.

She scrambled back into the driver’s seat, searching for the lever to
do that. Just when he was about to offer to do it for her, she found
it.

Axel lifted the hood and removed the radiator cap. Walking back around to
where she sat behind the wheel with the driver-side door open, he said,
“Try starting it.”

It did start but looking into the radiator, he saw the coolant start to
bubble up like a milkshake. Walking back toward her, he saw white smoke
coming out of the tailpipe in the rear. Well, that wasn’t good
news.

“Turn it off,” he told her.

She did as he said, climbing back out of the car.

“Yeah, that’s a blown head gasket,” Axel explained.
“The smoke coming out of the back is coolant getting into your exhaust
system. It’s not supposed to do that.”

“Can you fix it?” she asked. “H-how long will it
take?”

“I can fix it,” he said. “How long it will take depends
on a couple of things. I need to find a replacement for the head gasket and
if there’s any damage to the engine, we might need parts for that too.
Once we have the parts we need, I can have it fixed in two or three
days.”

Axel could tell that wasn’t the answer she was hoping to get. It was
probably a good idea to get all the bad news out at once.

“It’s also going to be expensive,” Axel told her.
“You’re probably looking at two to three thousand dollars to fix
it.”

Those big green eyes were getting shiny with tears and Axel felt a tiny bit
of panic creeping in. He was no damn good with tears. Never had been. He had
to find some way to make the situation the little lady was in less
terrible.

“Where are you headed?” he asked. “Do you have any
friends or family we can call that will come help you out?”

Dropping her gaze, she shook her head.

“Where are you heading?” Axel tried again.

She shrugged for an answer.

“Do you know if your insurance covers towing?” he asked. If
nothing else, it looked like he was going to be towing her back to his
garage.

She shook her head. Pretty red curls swung with her movements.

“Do you have your insurance information in the car? We could
call,” he offered.

“I don’t have it,” she told him.

Didn’t have a destination. Didn’t have insurance information?
What the hell was the situation here? When he gave her the cost of towing
the car, she reached into the pocket of her coat, pulled out a credit card,
and handed it to him. It was brand-new and shiny. Axel doubted it had ever
been used.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to run this, and
we’ll be on our way.”

She scrambled back into her car like a scared mouse. Axel shook his head as
he headed back to his tow truck, reaching in to get the card reader they
used for payments. The name on the card was Sadie Downing.

What the hell happened to Sadie?

He ran the card. The transaction went through which surprised him. He
walked back to her car, tapping on the window to return her card. Again, she
scrambled out of her car, looking around nervously.

Axel just had to ask. “Are you okay? The local hospital is on the way
back to the garage.”

“I’m fine,” she said a little too quickly.

“Okay.” He would leave it at that. “Why don’t you
go ahead and climb in the tow truck? I’ll get your car hooked up and
we’ll get going.”

“Thank you,” she said quickly before making a beeline for the
truck, hastily climbing into the cab.

It didn’t take Axel long to hook up her car and get them on the road.
Sadie, if that was her name, huddled quietly in the far corner of the cabin
with her head leaning on the window. While he normally appreciated the
silence, just now it was awkward. He really wanted to ask her what happened.
Who did that to her face?

One thing was pretty certain. She was on the run, and she was afraid.
Looking at her, he understood why.

 

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.

 

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

NEW RELEASE: Jeepers Creepers (Royal Bastards MC) by Nikki Landis

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The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Balen “Creature” Hobbs doesn’t call anywhere home.
He’s been a nomad since the day he finished active duty.
Fate has other plans when he bumps into a girl beaten outside a local bar.
Being a good Samaritan didn’t cross his mind—only justice.

Getting involved pulls him into a dark world where the strong prey on the weak.
Riding with the Royal Bastards MC offers him a chance he can’t refuse.
When he stops a cutthroat criminal from hurting more innocents, everything seems to fall into place.
Creature has finally found a place where he belongs, and his unique talents are appreciated.
Meeting Blair Connelly and falling in love is almost too good to be true.
For the first time since the war ended, he feels peace.

But when a familiar enemy threatens the club, he doesn’t hesitate to protect the RBMC.
Even if it means he has to risk everything to ensure justice is served.
A Shadow Rider and a scarred veteran are the only chance Blair has to survive.
It’s not a choice of his club or his woman. He’s saving both.
Creature is ridin’ full throttle and ready for war.

A twist on the classic Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Universal link: https://books2read.com/JeepersCreepersRBMC

About the Author:

Nikki Landis is a romance enthusiast, tea addict, and book hoarder. She’s the USA Today Bestselling Author of over fifty novels, including her widely popular Tonopah, NV RBMC series. She writes wickedly fierce, spicy romances featuring dirty talkin’ bikers, deadly, possessive reapers, wild bad boys, and the feisty, independent women they love. She’s a mom to six sons, two of them Marines. Books are her favorite escape.

Find Nikki Online:

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TEASER TUESDAY: Prophet by Harley Wylde

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A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance

 

Dixie Reapers MC, Book 20

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: March 29, 2024

 

 

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

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

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

 

EXCERPT

Ares

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You smell like horses and dirt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Cleo,” I said.

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

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

“Counting down the minutes,” she said.

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

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

“Thanks,” she murmured.

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

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

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

“Everything all right?” Isabella asked.

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

“Ah, can’t forget that,” Ridley said.

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

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

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

“Your move, Cleo,” Ridley prompted.

“Right,” she mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

“Junie, Judd, Marnie!” I shouted.

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

 

About the Author

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

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

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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

 

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RABT Book Tours & PR

TEASER: Darker by A.K. Nevermore

Posted on by

Maw of Mayhem MC, Book 2

Paranormal, Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: March 15, 2024

So much for sanctuary. Kit Parson doesn’t feel any safer than she was
before she first stepped into the Maw of Mayhem, and things are going from
bad to worse. Something big is definitely going down in the paranormal
community… and inside Kit. Now that her inner beast has awoken, all
it wants is out. The only thing Kit wants is Grim, but he’s got issues
of his own.

Fingered for a crime he didn’t commit and injured by the
witch’s spell, his cat Darke has control of their form. He
doesn’t play well with others, and tensions with the crew are at an
all-time high.

With the witches’ elite assassins on their trail, can Darke and the
crew put aside their differences to keep Kit safe and get back to the MC?
And as the clock ticks toward the vote with Grim’s reputation in
shambles, will there be an MC to go back to?


EXCERPT

Shades of the past tore through the consciousness Darke shared with his
man, threatening to swallow Grim whole. He fought against their poisoned
bite, but the witch’s spell had weakened the big cat’s
skin-brother and freed the memories from their fetters. They lashed at Grim
with inky black tentacles of torment. His agonized screams rose within the
crescendoing squall, raging through their split psyche. A growl welled in
Darke’s chest, ruff bristling at their assault.

— Mine! — he snarled, lunging into the fray. Sharp claws and teeth rent
the shadowed memories of the bad time from his man, scattering them back
into the depths of their mind. Grim was his. Him. A self separate, yet one.
His skin-brother. Darke nuzzled him close, tongue rasping over Grim’s
flickering light.

— heal —

Kit… his man whimpered, curling into a ball. His light dimmed,
giving up control of their form to the big cat.

— ours — Darke rumbled, shifting their body and sending Grim what
strength he could. Fur sprouted, limbs cracking and reforming. Two legs
became four, and a tawny gray mountain lion lay sprawled on the bed where
the others had lain his man to recover.

Within, his skin-brother’s light strengthened, its low glow holding
steady.

Darke ran a paw over his face, licking at his pad. He sneezed at the scent
of old blood, the room thick with the patina of its tang and the decaying
musk of the undead. A low growl rumbled in his chest, his pupils dilating to
take in the room’s blend of muted color.

Heavy furniture dominated the space, its angles stark amidst the gloom.
Tendrils of scent threaded through the room, age and linseed seeping from
the wood to twine with the rest of the civilized rot assaulting his nose. He
pushed off the bed, padding across the thick carpet. His shadow grayed the
fingers of scant moonlight streaming in from long, amber-tinted
windows.

Darke paused, his lip curling over his canines, disdainfully eyeing the
city spread out below him before turning his face to the bulbous moon.

Had Grim’s female changed and released her animal?

Clay’s cat had promised Darke a mate. Teased him with her scent,
captured within the weft of the afghan on Grim’s bed. The desperate
longing it evoked proved the connection. The tip of Darke’s tail
twitched. He’d trusted it would be so. Waited for so long. Too long.
Kit’s scent matched the afghan’s. That meant the beast within
her was his.

Darke chuffed his frustration. Sensing his mate without being able to claim
her was torture. He paced the breadth of the room, eyes narrowed at the
heavy oaken door leading out. Beyond it, faint voices pricked at his ears.
Part of his skin-brother’s pride was near. His crew. Darke growled at
the snippets of the MC’s inner cats’ near-unintelligible
murmuring punctuating the two-legged babble. That he could understand the
crew’s stupid yapping better than his own brethren’s yowls
irked.

A pang of loneliness shot through Darke’s chest. He missed Clay. When
his father’s inner lion had spoken, his deep rumble was clarion. The
lynxes out there? Yowls and hissing. Darke could pick out maybe one hard-won
word in six, and they couldn’t understand him at all. It had been the
same with his littermates, Grapple and Shiv, leaving Darke to rely on
instinct when forced to interact.

It got him into trouble. Lynxes were shady and the two-leggers lied. Said
things they didn’t mean, then hurt you. Clay had been different, but
he was dead while his murderer walked free.

Reaper.

Darke shivered, ears flicking back, remembering the bad time. The man who
called himself their uncle needed to die, and Grapple and Shiv with
him.

Darke’s temper spiked, his tail swishing. Keenly feeling the loss
locked within his mind again, in this stinking place of undead. His
skin-brother shared his sorrow at their father’s murder, but not
Darke’s isolation.

And now Grim had left him, too.

Darke shouldered through another door into a smaller room lined with tile.
It smelled faintly of excrement and strongly of fabricated pine, the water
in the bowl stale and chemical-laced. Darke shook droplets from his maw and
chuffed his distaste, returning to the window.

Soft footfalls approached from the beyond the oaken door.

Darke slunk into the deep shadow of an armoire as the heavy slab canted
open, then closed. Kit limped to the center of the room, favoring a leg. Her
arm was splinted, the opposite hand bandaged in gauze. A ruddy stain marred
its whiteness. She wrapped her damaged limbs around herself with a low sob,
the scent of fresh blood perfuming the air as she moved. Darke’s
nostrils flared at that thread of wrongness twining within the delicate
tendrils of citrus, cinnamon, and female musk.

His mate was presenting as wounded prey.

Darke bit back the growl building in his chest, fury pounding through his
temples. His claws extended and retracted from the carpet’s thick
pile. Healthy, she’d be a tempting prize for any predator.
Injured… He was going to kill —

No. Darke’s ears flattened against his skull. His man would think
before spilling blood.

But Grim thought too much.

Kit scanned the room, then dashed a hand across her face, stumbling to the
bed. Her feet froze at its foot, head snapping toward the bathroom, then
away. Another low sob eked from her throat, and Darke’s ruff stood on
end. He would destroy them. Destroy them all. Starting with those who had
failed to protect —

— Hey! Boy Vengeance! You really just gonna let her think her think
he’s gone? —

Darke jumped, fur bristling at the syrupy censure. He backed deeper into
the shadows, eyes wide and pulse pounding.

— Aww. Here puss, puss, puss… I don’t bite —

His lip curled over a canine, and a female’s mocking laughter flitted
through his mind as clearly as the gravelly chuckle of Clay’s beast
had. Darke’s heart leaped, his ears pricking forward, saliva pooling
in his maw.

He could understand her.

The beast inside Kit, his promised mate — when she spoke, her words were
clear, and she wanted to play.

 

About the Author

AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives
up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a
certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when
she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up
camo Chucks. Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to
become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time. AK pays
the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She
belongs to the Authors Guild, is an RWA chapter board member, volunteers for
far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion,
sleeps.

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