RELEASE BLITZ: The Axe by Linda Griffin #suspense


Suspense Novella

Date Published: September 27, 2023

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

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Sweethearts Eric Leidheldt and Desiree Chauveau are spending a weekend at
his uncle’s cabin when they encounter two strangers cutting wood. Eric is
knocked unconscious, and Desi is viciously attacked. The following day two
police officers come to their apartment to arrest Desi. Her assailants are
dead, murdered with an axe, and her fingerprints are on it. She
confesses—but is she really guilty? Eric is determined to stand by
her, but the physical and emotional effects of the attack severely challenge
their relationship.



The pickup was a very old, battered Dodge. Beyond it were two bearded men
in plaid flannel shirts. The one with the axe was about forty,
broad-shouldered, and dark-haired. The other one was tall, scruffy, a little
younger, and had red hair. They both turned toward the approaching couple.
The red-haired one stared at Desi in a way Eric didn’t like, but the
other man smiled genially and said, “Howdy, folks. Pretty day,
ain’t it?”

And then he swung the axe.

About the Author

Linda Griffin knew she wanted to be a “book maker” as soon as
she learned to read and wrote her first story, “Judy and the
Fairies,” at the age of six. She retired as fiction librarian for the
San Diego Public Library to spend more time on her writing. She has had
stories of every length from short shorts to novellas published in numerous
literary journals, and The Axe is her seventh book from the Wild Rose


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TEASER: Through My Heart by KateHill #romantichorror

Romantic Moments 3

Romantic Horror, Vampire Romance

Date Published: October 01, 2023

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Adrian – I am a vampire whose physical ugliness intensified with my
immortality. For centuries I hunted alone, disguising myself from prey,
preferring illusions to brutal attacks. Others of my kind spurned me. Some
tried to destroy me, and on them I unleashed my wrath. I suffered the agony
of eternal loneliness, and then I met Anna.

Anna – My life was almost unbearable until a tall, black-haired
stranger with fiery eyes and needle sharp teeth drank my blood and swept me
into an unimaginable world. From the night we met, I gave Adrian my heart,
but a lie spun by a jealous enemy drove us apart. I swore I would never give
him the chance to hurt me again, but denying my love for him was harder than
I thought.

Note: Through My Heart is a very short horror romance featuring vampiric
love. It has a spicy heat level, violence, and a HEA. This Romantic Moments
story is the perfect length for a lunch break, before bed, or any time you
want a quick, romantic read.



I found her on the streets of Pompeii just days before the fateful eruption
of Vesuvius. Many centuries earlier, I had been thrust into the life of a
blood drinker, changed on the field of battle.

To this day, I don’t know why the blood drinker changed me. Beauty is
prized among our kind, and I was known as the Brutal Beast—a warrior
with the strength of a dragon and the face of one.

I suppose it doesn’t matter why. It might have been a gift, or a curse, or
perhaps it was just her sense of humor. I can still feel her teeth tearing
into my neck. I can taste her blood, as sweet and thick as wine.

I digress. Where was I?

Ah, yes, Pompeii. I had arrived on my merchant ship from Constanta, and
while my servants unloaded cargo, I sought nourishment in the brothels that
were plentiful in the city. Even then, I caught the scent of death emanating
from the distant mountain. I had planned to stay for a while, but just one
night might be too long. Still, I needed to drink before moving on.

A delicious scent teased my nose. It was musky, sweet, and sad. The aroma
of despair. My gaze riveted to a beautiful woman—hair as black as my
own, dark eyes with flecks of gold that my keen vision detected even from
across the street. She was slim and her skin kissed golden by the sun.
Despite the warmth of the air, she shivered and rubbed her bare arms that
were imprinted with bruises from an earlier customer.

I approached, still wearing a hood—blood drinkers are rarely affected
by warmth or cold, unless it’s extreme. The hood, combined with my powers of
the mind, would create the illusion of handsome looks. I didn’t spin the
dream quite yet, though. Sometimes, I indulged in the self-torture of seeing
how they reacted to me.

She glanced at me when I paused beside her, so close that my shadow
darkened her face.

“Welcome. Would you like to come inside?” she asked in a soft
monotone. Her voice, like her scent, emanated despair. She didn’t even look
surprised by my appearance.

“Very much.”

With a sigh, she turned and led me past a tattered curtain, into the small,
candlelit room where she lived and entertained customers.

She gestured toward the stone bed.

I remained standing and said, “We should talk first.”

Now she raised an arched black eyebrow. “About what?”

I pulled down my hood, completely exposing my pale, bony face that was
covered in scars, most from my mortal life, but some sustained after my
change, during fights with other blood drinkers, ones who couldn’t keep
their mouths shut and their weapons to themselves. My eyes, deep-set and
black as midnight pools, intimidated just about everyone who dared lock
gazes with me.

She swallowed visibly and audibly, but didn’t look away.

“Will you still take me to your bed, my lovely?”


About the Author

Kate Hill is a vegetarian New Englander who loves writing romantic
fantasies. When she’s not working on her books, Kate enjoys reading, working
out, watching horror movies, and researching vampires and Viking history.
She runs the Compelling Beasts Blog that is dedicated to antagonists,
antiheroes, and paranormal creatures. Kate also writes as Saloni


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TEASER: Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert by Lis Anna-Langston #WomensFiction


New Adult – Literary – Contemporary fiction –
Women’s fiction

Date Published:10-20-2023

Publisher: Mapleton Press

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This novel about friendship, nostalgia, and finding oneself is funny and
tender, moving and poetic, while standing firmly in hope and love. The
characters are thinkers, overthinkers really, who are trying to find their
way by asking the deep questions of life with wide-eyed wonder and talking
through life’s uncertainties. They fearlessly confront the choices they’ve
made, examining their desires and their mistakes. The result is a smart,
engaging novel depicting a young woman’s search for the people and place she
will call home.

A RECOMMENDED read by the US Review





The inside of the White Tavern was dark and smelled like stale cigarettes
and grease. A server came over, wearing tight black skinny jeans and an old
Van Halen concert tee.

Dylan turned sideways in the booth to stretch his legs out. “Tell me
about this beer that’s cheaper than gas.”

“Dollar eighty-four,” the server said, which was, in fact,
cheaper than gas.

“Do you have any fries to go with those competitive beer

It had been a long time since I’d had my favorite sandwich. Pimiento
cheese. Pickles. Ham. I sunk my teeth into a yummy bite of teenage years and
moaned out loud.

Dylan looked up from his double order of fries and raised an eyebrow.
“Do you and that sandwich need to be alone?”

I ignored his comment. “Was there anything else in that car? Anything
that might indicate a drug deal gone bad?”

“Nope. Just the cooler and the rock.”


Dylan locked eyes with me. “That rock means something,

The dining area was empty except for us, and one other table near the back
with kitchen staff. Still, Dylan leaned across the table and whispered
urgently, “It’s like that scene in Pulp Fiction with the
briefcase in the diner.”

I furrowed my brow and gagged on a sesame seed. “With Honey

“And Pumpkin.”


Dylan leaned back and shrugged. “The guy’s name was Pumpkin.
Honey Bunny and…”

“I know. I’ve seen it thirteen times. I’m just wondering
why we’re out here in the middle of the desert with you drawing
comparisons of your life to a film that came out when you were seven years

“You—you, you mock me, Skye, but there’s a

“Between a film and that glowing rock?”

“Yes.” He clasped his hands together firmly and laid them on
the table.

“There’s no rock in Pulp Fiction.”

“It’s implied.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s in the briefcase.”

“We never see what’s in the briefcase.”

Dylan squirmed in an exaggerated way and said, “God, use your
imagination, Skye. It’s a glowing rock.”

“Okay. Say it is a glowing rock. What does that have to do with

“It’s our time to finally make sense of our lives.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“No, you haven’t.”

I grabbed the ketchup bottle and whacked the bottom. “How do you

“Because you’re here. Right back where you started. Look,
don’t get me wrong, I love sitting out in the desert drinking Miller
High Life, listening to the coyotes howl, playing charades in the firelight
with your sister, but I’m glad you’re home.”

“You played charades with my sister?”

“Sure. Isn’t that what you were doing back east? Playing
charades? Sounds like? Feels like? Rhymes with?

“You saying those six years were nothing more than a

“We were all playing a game. It’s okay to admit the truth, even
if it’s hard.”

His answer was so simple and earnest, I didn’t know whether to kill
him or cry. I looked down at my plate with a strange mixture of surrender
and hunger. “What do you think I was doing on the East

Dylan inhaled and shrugged, “Trying to escape this place and burn
Trevor out of your mind with hot yoga and gluten-free buns.” He
touched my greasy hand and said, “It’s not a judgment. Look, I
don’t know what you were doing out there. You didn’t exactly
call. But you’re here now, and so am I, and I believe this is some
kind of strange gift.”

“If the rock is so important, why haven’t you moved

“It’s really heavy. I’m going to have to dig it out.
That’s where you come in.”

Dylan was always a crazy trailblazer adjusting his tinfoil hat, but
he’d leveled up the weird while I was gone.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

If I stood perfectly still in the stall, I could hear the sound of the end
coming. A sharp chapter break pushing forward. Tracks winding into a new
future. One I couldn’t see, because I was still stuck in the backseat
of my past life. I sat on the toilet and thought about escape. The problem
was I’d been escaping my entire life. Running from everything.
Destiny. Relationships. Myself. I looked down at my jeans bunched up around
my knees. I’d already managed to get stuck in a hole, might as well
grab a shovel and dig.

About the Author

Lis Anna-Langston was raised along the winding current of the Mississippi
River on a steady diet of dog-eared books. She attended a Creative and
Performing Arts School from middle school until graduation and went on to
study Literature at Webster University. Her novels have won the
Parents’ Choice Gold, Moonbeam Book Award, Independent Press Award,
Benjamin Franklin Book Award and NYC Big Book Awards. A three-time Pushcart
award nominee and Finalist in the Brighthorse Book Prize, William Faulkner
Fiction Contest, George Garrett Fiction Prize and Thomas Wolfe Fiction
Award, her work has been published in The Literary Review, Emerson Review,
The Merrimack Review, Emrys Journal, The MacGuffin, Sand Hill Review and
dozens of other literary journals.

Hailed as “an author with a genuine flair for originality” by
Midwest Book Review and “a loveable, engaging, original
voice…” by Publishers Weekly, you can find her in the wilds of
South Carolina plucking stories out of thin air.

Contact Links


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BOOK BLITZ: Heart of the Storm by Valerie Storm #YAfantasy

 Demon Storm, Book 4


YA Fantasy

Date Published: 09-13-2023

Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing

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More than night terrors keep Kari awake at night. Ari languishes beside
her, broken by the horrors Raven bestowed upon him.

She hopes he heals, and soon.

When a familiar presence and an unexplainable human with magic happen upon
their doorstep, Kari and Ari make a decision: leave Raziac Village in search
of answers and a new home.

But the heart eater waits for them.


About the Author

Valerie Storm was raised in Tucson, Arizona. Growing up, she fell in love
with everything fantasy. When she wasn’t playing video games, she was
writing. By age ten, she began to write her own stories as a way to escape
reality. When these stories became a full-length series, she considered the
path to sharing with other children & children-at/heart looking for a
place to call home.


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TEASER TUESDAY: The Damned (Anthology) #horror


Anthology Stories Include:


The Drain, The Enforcers, The Fog, On a Spring Day, and The Trial.


Flash Fiction, Horror

Date To Be Published: September 23, 2023

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Bite-sized horror stories are brought to you by thirteen authors. From
creepy crawlies to the seemingly normal pets. From hideous monsters lurking
in the dark to charismatic people showing their true colors.

Each tale is precisely 100 words and leaves a long-lasting chilling effect.
Some will make you question the security of the world around you, and
what’s more terrifying than that?

Featuring drabbles from Storm Lomax, Jonathan Reddoch, Zari Hunt, Kellee
Kranendonk, Andreas Flögel, Simon Clarke, Jacek Wilkos, Ferenc K.
Zoltán, Vanessa Bane, C.L. Hart, Natascha Eschweiler, Angela
Zimmerman, and J.E. Feldman.



The Drain

Professor Vladimir Reed-Field wished he had never taken the job at
Miskatonic University. He’d never had problems like this when he was
teaching at the University of Hawaii. A volcanic eruption would be  a
welcome change over the sound coming from that damn kitchen sink.

The plumber from Blizzard Pipeworks could find nothing wrong with the
drain. She’d scoped it, snaked it, and performed a full flush. She
said that sometimes the plumbing in Arkham’s old houses just made odd

The problem wasn’t the pipes themselves. It was the thing inside the
pipes that kept whispering the professor’s name.


Purchase Your Copy Today



About the Author

C. L. Hart, the owner and sole employee of Naughty Netherworld Press, is
spoken of in hushed tones. She is described as The Mad Scribe of the
Northeastern Colorado Plains, The Terrible Old Woman, and The Author That
Should Not Be.

When not penning sanity-destroying works of dystopian fiction, Lovecraftian
fantasy, or old-school horror with the occasional sweet romance thrown in to
upset the cosmic apple cart, Ms. Hart enjoys creating baked goods she hopes
will be considered palatable.

Ms. Hart shares a home in a remote rural town of 134 souls with her adult
son and three cats. Her sense of fashion is best described as Early
Twenty-First Century Unmade Bed. This disabled former nurse can usually be
found arguing with herself about subplots or rehabilitating eldritch


Follow C. L. Hart

C. L. Hart Amazon Author Page

Naughty Netherworld Press Blog

Naughty Netherworld Press Books

Naughty Netherworld Press Substack

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TEASER TUESDAY: Antler and Bone by Siondalin O’Craig #PNR #Fantasy


(Celtic Magic 5): Mabon –Autumnal Equinox


Paranormal / Fantasy / Women’s Fiction

Date Published: 09/15/2023

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

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Maine artist Libby McNulty’s dreams are haunted by the terrifying Wild Hunt
of Celtic legend. As if that isn’t bad enough, the landlord threatens her
and her friends with eviction in order to turn their apartments into more
profitable condos.

Tom O’Sylvan is a reclusive combat vet who serves as the building manager.
When Libby discovers Tom is also the Huntsman, legendary leader of the Wild
Hunt, myth and ordinary life begin to collide. Can the two of them face
their demons to save each other from danger?



Copyright ©2023 Siondalin O’Craig


Libby McNulty reached a paint-spattered hand toward the chipped mug on the
counter, not turning her gaze from the six-foot-tall canvas standing on a
low easel. Her brush remained poised in the air. A drop of chartreuse paint
clung to its tip, quivering as if envious of the heavy raindrops splattering
the studio windows.

The image of the woman in the center of the canvas looked a lot like Libby,
or rather what Libby would have looked like if she were a goddess of the
hunt in medieval Ireland. The painted huntress wore a green velvet gown
instead of threadbare Lee jeans rolled up around her calves, and her auburn
ringlets bounced free under the canopy of autumn beech leaves, rather than
tucked haphazardly under a bandanna. In her left hand, the woman on the
canvas held a bow, while her right clenched an arrow rather than a
paintbrush. Their luminous chestnut eyes were exactly the same though;
alert, intent, seeing something beyond the edge of the picture.

Libby took a sip of her tea and grimaced. It had gone cold, and the milk
was sour. Its taste spread across her tongue and pulled her mind back inside
the white-washed wooden walls of her studio. She shivered.

The air was cold and damp, colder than it ought to be in September. Soon it
would be Mabon, the autumnal equinox, when the equal length of day and night
brought balance before the long winter slide, through the pumpkins and
trick-or-treating of Samhain, into the darkness of Yule on the longest night
of the year. Usually, the Mabon season meant sunny T-shirt days and warm
sweater nights, but the persistent rain this year had Libby shivering in her
plaid flannel shirt.

She set the mug back down on top of a folded letter pocked with tea stains.
The letter was signed by Dave Wolf, Vice President and Senior Partner of
James Carbill Real Property LLC. In other words, her landlord. It said
something about selling the building.

Despite the fact that she had a five-year lease with a renewal clause, the
letter made Libby uneasy. That lease had so much fine print, so many pages
she hadn’t read. Her anxiousness to sign something that said
she’d have a home and a place for her art for five years had her
putting blinders on, made her impatient.

She ran a chipped fingernail over the thick paper. It was signed in real
blue-black ink from an expensive fountain pen. Libby knew ink and pigments
better than leases; she made most of her own from bits of trees, flowers,
mushrooms, and stones that she gathered from the forest and rocky shore
surrounding this little town of Lisna, Maine. She was able to make ink and
paints from the plants and barks and stuff she found walking through the
woods — materials that were free to anyone who could read the land. Yet
that blessing was so easily used for evil rather than beauty. She pondered
how many people’s lives around the world had been changed, even
eliminated, by the stroke of ink on paper, wielded for power rather than

But I have my lease, Libby reminded herself again. They can’t kick me
out, at least not for another five years.
Over the drum of rain, Libby could
hear the creaking floorboards that rested overtop of her studio’s tin
ceiling, footsteps of her little band of apartment neighbors. Straight
overhead was the apartment of dear little KatieMor. Next to that, retired
lobsterman Jim Johnson lived with Mario Perkins. Jim with his cane and Mario
with his walker both relied on the Limerick Block elevator as the only way
they could stay living out their end days in their own hometown. Donna
Constantine, the librarian. The Halls, who had a business training
nonprofits how to organize. And Tom O’Sylvan — Tomayo — the building
manager. Libby often heard his distinctive footsteps heading down the stairs
and out the door late in the evening, his big black Irish wolfhound padding
by his side.

Fingering the triskele medallion she wore around her neck, Libby stepped
back and took another look at the painting. Behind the Libby-as-Huntress
stood a cloaked and hooded figure, its face obscured. They stood at the
edge-line between a harvested field and a late-autumn beech forest. The
Libby-Huntress looked off-canvas, toward where, in the real forest just
north of town that it was painted to resemble, a mysterious standing stone
jutted out of the ground in a mossy clearing. The stone — a foot taller
than Libby, and covered with a patchwork of pale green and orange lichens —
had become a grounding point for Libby in her many hours of wandering
through the woods, gathering fiddleheads, ramps, and nettles to eat, along
with oak galls and dyer’s polypore mushrooms to make ink and

That man whose face lay hidden below the dark hood haunted Libby’s
restless dreams. She could feel him now, pulling her out of her studio
again, out past the brick walls of the Limerick Block, beyond the small
bounds of the village of Lisna, back into the painting, back into the

The bright green drop of paint let go and landed with an audible plop on
one of Libby’s black canvas sneakers. Libby looked down.

I just need a good long walk, she thought. If only this rain would let up.
A few hours in the forest would set her back to rights, let her get some
sleep, some real sleep, a night without fractured bits of nightmare shocking
her awake. Visions of the stone, the hooded man, a hunt, and all-consuming


About the Author

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


Author’s Facebook

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter:

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TEASER: This is How He Collects Them by Eric Woods #horror



Date Published:10-13-2023

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A series of haunting nightmares draws five former residents of a New York
City high-rise back to their one-time home. But this is not a reunion. These
five strangers have never met. But they are connected.

The depressed photographer with telekinetic abilities … the
paralegal who reads evil thoughts of strangers … the struggling
author who can predict dark futures … the malicious hypnotist
… the witch’s daughter …

They have met in their dreams, and they have observed the shadows who
follow them until they awaken. Now they want answers. And when the five
board the same elevator at the same time, an ominous reality surfaces. They
did not return on their own. They were drawn back. Drawn by their
nightmares. Drawn by darkness.

Drawn … to be collected.




        The darkness descends, and the witch recoils. She senses it nearby but
cannot visually establish its location. But it is close. It remains trapped
inside The Amalgam high rise, one of New York City’s premiere
structures for the past one hundred years. The witch’s home. Her
powers existed for years under its nose. She fooled it for decades. Made it
believe she was but a mere charlatan taking advantage of the weak

          But the witch is no
fraud. Her powers are real. Her powers are formidable. And she’s been
here the whole time. Planning. Plotting. Over the past couple days, she has
been leaving with her bags full. She is trying to escape before they can
capture her. Escape like the few over the years who fled before the darkness
could consume them. They were among the most powerful ones to cross into its
space. But they have also been located, and like the witch, their powers
amassed together will bring forth a darkness never seen in human

          Now the witch
understands that she has been exposed and is trying to flee to a safer
place. Because even she knows that she cannot stop it no matter how much
information she gathers on it. No matter how many of his minions she

          You no longer fool
me, Witch. It is time to set my gatherers in motion. And your book of spells
will not save you.

          Or your

          Or the others.

          In its century of
existence, The Amalgam has brought forth an abundant supply of those with
gifts the holders never quite understood. Most have been a mere pittance to
that of a true witch – a descendent of one of the most powerful ever

          As it continues to
observe, the witch lingers through the lobby looking from left to right. She
knows it’s watching, and she sprints to the elevator. Other tenants
wait alongside, so the darkness dissipates back. But it’s now clear.
The witch must be top priority before she can escape.

          But once she is
collected, the others will return.

          The plan for a world
of darkness will reach its zenith.

          It’s time to
call them home. It’s time to collect.


About the Author

A writer since grade school, Eric Woods resides in Springfield, Illinois
and finally published his first novel in 2018. Today he has five novels, two
novellas, and one book of stage plays. Most recently, his short story
“The Taurus Bull” was featured in HorrorScope: A Zodiac

If you want to be spooked in person, Eric hosts the Lincoln Ghost Walk in
Springfield (through October). Come take the tour and learn some creepy
tales about the 16th President of the United States!

Eric earned a Bachelor’s Degree in English and a Master’s
Degree in Communication from the University of Illinois Springfield. He
served as a collegiate speech and debate coach for seven years, and has been
a local freelance writer since 2005.


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BOOK BLITZ: The Bucket of Blood by Paul Malott #GraphicNovel #Dystopian


Dystopian & Post-Apocalyptic Graphic Novels, Dystopian Graphic Novels,
Humorous Graphic Novels

Date Published: June 2023

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“The Bucket of Blood” by Paul Malott is a darkly-funny comedy
that takes readers on a thrilling and immersive journey into a dystopian
Detroit ruled by the enigmatic Granny Schmif. This sassy splatterpunk
graphic novel combines elements of humor, action, and horror to create a
unique blend of genres that keeps readers engaged from beginning to

Fans of stoner, darkly-funny comedies will enjoy this adventure epic about
freelance spies meandering in the streets of Detroit.

About the Author

Paul Malott is a writer, procurement leader, and organizational management
expert who’s also a self-proclaimed lover of all things comics, 3D printing,
history, and human inventiveness and perseverance. He’s a big believer in
the power of laughter and has made it his mission to help people trust in
the adage that ‘laughter is the best medicine’.

In his graphic novel “The Bucket of Blood” Paul offers a
facetious and humorous perspective on today’s struggles through the
lens of some unique characters such as Granny Schmif. Paul believes that the
ability to balance seriousness with humor leads to success in all areas of
life, from relationships to career, and his graphic novel provides readers a
witty narrative providing substance to his lifestyle.

But, Paul’s not just a one-trick pony. He’s held various leadership
positions in fortune 500 companies throughout his career and has honed his
skills in leadership, problem-solving, procurement, and strategic planning.
When he’s not writing or working, Paul can be found indulging his family and
getting lost in his other passions, which include playing the drums,
watching sci-fi movies, and trying to master the art of cooking. He also has
a knack for making people laugh ..he’s told his sense of humor shines
through in his writing, and readers can expect to be entertained as well as

In short, Paul Malott is a multi-talented writer and expert who’s
passionate about communication, laughter, and helping people achieve their
goals. His unique blend of expertise, humor, and satire makes him an
invaluable writer and resource.


Contact Links

Author Website







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RELEASE BLITZ: Spooning my Chuchunya by Marilyn Barr #MonsterRomance

Snuggling Under Snowdrifts,  Book 2

Monster Romance

Date Published: 8/8/2023


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I found the most elusive spot to hide from my parent’s cult but in
claiming my cave, I accidentally allowed a snow monster to claim


Dr. Sydney Decker

Six months ago, Dr. Vera Thompson disappeared into the wilderness to settle
with a mysterious “survivalist colony” without a known location.
She may have bought their lies, but I was born into an isolated group of
religious fanatics and can’t believe Vera would fall into the same
trap. Her weak “find my phone app” signal is the lifeline
between us, and I won’t stop searching the frigid tundra for her. My
best friend helped me escape but now, it’s my turn to save her.



Loneliness threatens my sanity with each rejection at the annual mating
chase. Females fear my hot temper and need for control, instead of
appreciating that I am the biggest and fiercest male chuchunya. I had lost
hope I would discover my dushevnayasvyaz or soulmate, but then she found us.
This season I find myself breaking the ancient rules and deliberately
damaging the rituals I hold dear…at her request. I meant what I said
when I promised to rearrange the world to make my dushevnayasvyaz happy, but
when will I be pushed too far?

Caught between the regimented conditioning of the clan and the willful
spirit of his dushevnayasvyaz, Sergei must choose the order which keeps him
stable or his chance at fated love. Will they escape punishment for their
deeds or face shunning in a desolate place where community means survival?
Will Sydney recognize he’s betraying his kin to win her heart or
ignore their bond in fear of losing her independence?

About the Author

Marilyn Barr lives in the wilds of Kentucky with her husband, son, and
rescue cats. She has nine books with The Wild Rose Press in multiple romance
subgenres from sweet, new adult romance to erotic, fantasy romance. She
loves to place monstrous characters with hearts of gold in historical
romances and her historical, paranormal romances have won the Crowned Heart
Award, 2nd place in National Excellence in Story Telling (NEST) Contest,
Imadjinn Award for Best Paranormal Romance, and Grand Finalist for the
InD’Tale Magazine’s RONE Award. When engaging in the real world,
you can find her with the Kentuckiana Romance Writers, volunteering with her
son’s Special Olympics teams, or dancing around her kitchen. She is a
sucker (haha) for cheesy horror movies, Italian food, punk music, black
cats, bad puns, and all things witchy.

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TEASER: Taken by the Gorgon by Megan Slayer #ParanormalWomensFiction

Taken, Book 4


Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Date Published: August 11, 2023


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

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

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

As long as she doesn’t kill him…




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

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

He looked up at the sign again.



The best little town around.


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

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

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

He had no choice.

He forced himself forward because he needed those answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


About the Author

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

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


Megan on social media…





Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress


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