Tuesday Teaser

Teaser Tuesday: Steamy in Saint-Tropez by JC Jaye

The final book in the Bad Boys Abroad Series by JC Jaye, STEAMY IN SAINT-TROPEZ, is releasing Sept. 28th!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3Ds8bOX
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/SteamyInSaintTropezTBR
BookBub: https://bit.ly/SteamyInSaintTropezBB

They don’t come moodier than this muscly brute straining his chef’s whites…

Sébastien Devaux enjoys a rep as one of the finest chefs on the Côte d’Azur. Too bad his prowess behind the burners doesn’t extend to his people skills. Taciturn and hot-tempered, the loner lords over his staff, hiding his past as an American punk with a rap sheet as long as his tatted arm. Yeah, this man of mystery has long fooled everyone into believing he’s all-Français, just without the charm. His world’s just the way he wants it until a luscious lady in shorty-shorts struts onto the scene and into his head—the tormentress hellbent on uncovering his secrets and making him human again.

She’s all about going for the good times. But a hunky grump might be her Waterloo…

Leaving loads of angst and family drama back in NYC, Danica ‘Danny’ Randolph trades the gloom of Gotham for the mesmerizing Med and an extended French residency, happily creating floral masterpieces and making new friends. A laughably nonexistent love life is the only bummer in her new normal until she spies a sumptuous chef she wants to gobble like a five course meal. Crappy thing is, the man in the jacket’s not making it easy, not even sorta. No matter—this minx has plenty of tricks up her sleeve, and her gal pals don’t call her persistent AF for nothing!

Flames flare between a human thundercloud and a gorgeous optimist. C’est impossible?

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3Ds8bOX
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/SteamyInSaintTropezTBR
BookBub: https://bit.ly/SteamyInSaintTropezBB

Start the Bad Boys Abroad Series by JC Jaye before the final book comes out!!

READ Book 1: Ravenous on the Riviera
Available on Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3rKt0Cw
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/RavenousTBR
BookBub: https://bit.ly/RavenousBB

READ Book 2: Naughty In Nice
Available on Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/452ten0
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/NaughtyInNiceTBR
BookBub: https://bit.ly/NaughtyInNiceBB

Releasing Sept. 28th

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3Ds8bOX
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/SteamyInSaintTropezTBR
BookBub: https://bit.ly/SteamyInSaintTropezBB


It’s all Rhett and Scarlett’s fault.
(Talkin’ the grand staircase scene, people.)

Stung by the literary lovebug at a tender young age, JC has been devouring steamy romantic fiction ever since. Seriously… What could possibly be more delectable at the end of a rough day than a big, bad, moody male brought to his alphalicious knees by a gorgeous, sassy-talking heroine? Well, besides Tom Hardy showing up shirtless on your doorstep with car trouble.

Penning “I wish” fantasies while slogging through the woefully Rhett-scarce world, JC invites readers to indulge in decadent escape through her foul-mouthed and passion-saturated tales.

Uh. You did hear foul-mouthed, right?

Join JC Jaye’s Newsletter: https://www.subscribepage.com/jcjaye
Connect with JC Jaye: https://jcjaye.com

Tuesday Teaser

Stitches Teaser Tuesday


Devil’s Fury MC, Book 13

A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance


Motorcycle Club, Age Gap, Dark romance, Action & Suspense

Date Published: September 22

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

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Marci — My sister and her boyfriend had been my entire world, until I lost them both. Laura died, and Stitches walked away. I’ve lived in hell for the past seven years thanks to a brother who should have protected me. Instead, he used me to further his career, not caring whether I lived or died. Now Stitches is back, right in front of me. I always thought of him as an older brother, so why does he suddenly seem so sexy? What would Laura think if she knew I was falling for the man she loved?

Stitches – When I lost my woman and daughter, I walked away. I should have taken her little sister, Marci, with me. Instead I trusted her family. My mistake. If I’d checked on Marci, kept in touch, I’d have known she was in trouble. Now she’s back in my life, battered and broken. The men who dared to hurt her will pay with their lives. Especially her older brother. I failed her before, but this time I’ll get vengeance for all she’s suffered. It never occurred to me I’d end up falling for her along the way. I only hope if Laura is watching over us, she’d approve, because I don’t think I can hold myself back.


WARNING: Guaranteed happily ever after, no cliffhanger, no cheating. Recommended for readers 18+ due to adult situations, language, and violence.





Present Day


I couldn’t believe Ram had returned to the Devil’s Fury. Although, the biggest surprise had been the women and teens he’d brought with him. Each had suffered horribly, and I’d given them some space the first week. Badger had agreed they would be too skittish for me to attempt giving them an exam. It wasn’t the first time I’d used my medical knowledge for the sake of my brothers or their women. Now I was on the last woman, and nothing could have prepared me to come face-to-face with Marci again. Now all grown up and looking more haunted than any woman should. It had been ten years since I’d last seen her, which meant she was in her early twenties now. My stomach twisted. How the hell had she gotten mixed up in all this? And why hadn’t I known? I had so many questions.


She wouldn’t look at me. Couldn’t say I blamed her. If it weren’t for me knocking up her sister, Laura might have still been alive. I might not have liked their brother, Richard, but I’d thought he would at least make sure Marci had a decent life. I hadn’t seen a single poster around town about her being missing. Not a peep on the local news or radio. How long ago had she been kidnapped?


“Marci, do you remember me?” I asked, keeping my voice low and even, not wanting to startle her.


She still wouldn’t acknowledge me. She rocked slightly as she stared at the floor. I wasn’t sure if she needed a medical exam right now. A psychiatrist would probably be better for her. I knew some of the women in the club had spoken to one before. And Ram might not have a degree or license but did well with that sort of thing. Would he be able to coax something from her? Even a few words would help. I didn’t know if she was in pain, hungry, or what the hell she needed right now.


Why the fuck did they have me walk in here while Marci was alone? The fact a man came into the apartment probably scared the shit out of her. Then again, if the others were like her, I doubted they’d have been much comfort right now. I wished one of the old ladies had joined me for this. But if they had, and Marci acknowledged me, then I’d have to explain how I knew her. No one knew about Laura or our daughter, Rose, and I intended to keep it that way if at all possible. Some things weren’t meant to be shared, and that was a pain that was mine alone to bear.


“The last time I saw you, you were starting high school. Even though we live in a small town, not once have I run into you or your brother, Richard.” Marci flinched when I said her brother’s name. My nape prickled and I inched a little closer. Did that asshole Richard have something to do with her being here now? Was he to blame for what happened to Marci? If so, I’d bury the fucker! “You know, I couldn’t face you when Laura died. I called Richard…”


She flinched again and whimpered. Her rocking increased. I didn’t need a verbal response from her. Her actions alone spoke volumes. I’d have to ask Outlaw to find him for me, which meant I’d have to tell at least one person I knew Marci and how we were connected. I took the risk of moving even closer to her and went down on one knee in front of her. She froze, her eyes slowly focusing on me. Once she seemed to come back to herself a little, her eyes filled with tears, and she flung herself into my arms.


“I’ve got you, Marci. Everything will be fine now.” I rubbed her back and held her tight, letting her soak my cut and tee with her tears. When her cries quieted, I stood and lifted her into my arms. I hesitated to take her to the bedroom she’d been using. I felt like I needed to get her out of the apartment. The more she cried, the more urgent it felt to get her somewhere I could make her feel safe. Clearly, this wasn’t it.


Instead, I found myself carrying her outside and walking to my house. Thank goodness I didn’t live at the back of the compound. I managed to let myself in without setting her down or dropping her, then took her straight to the living room. Easing her down onto the couch, I smoothed her hair back from her face.


“This is my house. You’ll be safe here, all right?”


She gave me a slight nod, then curled into the corner of the couch. I went back to close and lock the door. As I twisted the bolt into place, I stared at it. In all the years I’d lived here, not once had I locked my door. For the first time in ten years, I had someone to protect, and this time I’d do a better job of it.


Marci was no longer the teenager who’d brightly smiled at me and asked a million questions about what it was like to be part of a motorcycle club. She’d grown into a beautiful woman. The thought of her being abused made me grind my teeth. She should have had a loving home, a ton of friends, and been away at college right now. Instead, she’d been tossed into hell, most likely by her brother.


When I got back to the living room, she’d closed her eyes but wasn’t quite asleep. She peeked at me, letting me know she was aware of her surroundings. It was an improvement over how I’d found her.


“How old are you now, Marci? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?” I asked.


“I don’t know. I lost track of time.”


I tried to hold in my anger over the situation so I wouldn’t scare her. For her to make such a statement meant she’d been with Vega’s men for a while. Or possibly someone before them.


“Then can you tell me what happened? Last I heard, your brother was going to take you in until you were old enough to make it on your own.” Her lower lip trembled, and she picked at her fingernails. I reached over to place my hand over hers. “No one here will hurt you, Marci. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”


Again, I silently added, because I damn sure felt responsible right now. If I’d kept in touch or checked up on her, would this have happened?



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 Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok: @harleywylde

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


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Tuesday Teaser

The Ladder Larceny Teaser Tuesday


A Kids’ Court Whodunit #6


Middle-Grade / Mystery

Date Published: 09-29-2023


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A missing ladder. A relentless bully. Can the junior lawyer uncover the truth before chaos erupts?

Luana Porcello has discovered a new love: volunteering at the community dog pound. Still, as much as she enjoys working with animals, law remains her true passion. So, when the local bully accuses his neighbor of theft, she happily resumes her attorney role, confident of her client’s innocence.

But as Luana gets to work, a formidable wall of evidence stands against her client, from physical proof linking him to the alleged crime scene to an eyewitness who insists he saw the accused commit the deed. Undeterred by the odds stacked against her, Luana is relentless in her quest to vindicate her client. Will her determination be enough to tip the scales of justice in their favor?






Bully for You!


“I’m Only going to say this once. Gimme back my ladder, or you’ll be sorry.” Billy Green hardened his jaw as he glowered at the small boy.

“But I don’t have it!” Adam Garcia rubbed his sweaty palms on his green t-shirt.

“You’re lying.” Billy clenched his fists and fought against the urge to hit the boy.

Adam’s eyes darted around the park, searching for an escape. But there was none. Billy and his companions had him trapped in a deserted area. “I didn’t take your ladder, Billy. Honest, I didn’t!”

“I didn’t take your ladder, Billy. Honest,” one of Billy’s friends parroted mockingly.

A fourth boy laughed, and Billy twisted his lips. He would have found Evan’s mocking impression of Adam hilarious at any other time, but not now. Now, Billy was angry. Someone had taken his ladder—he was sure that someone was Adam—and was determined to get it back.

The four boys were in the playground at Oakdale Park, a vast compound on the outskirts of downtown Oakdale with tennis courts, basketball courts, a swimming pool, and more.

Adam gulped and tugged at the neck of his t-shirt. He wasn’t sure how he would get out of this mess. He didn’t know Billy well but knew he and his friends were troublemakers. Adam’s eyes continued scanning the area, desperately looking for a miracle. He noticed the grass was still damp from the night’s heavy rainfall and the deep shadows surrounding them where they were in the shade of the climbing wall. What Adam didn’t see was another person. That was no surprise, as when he’d arrived at the park earlier, he’d purposely chosen this area because of the isolation. Adam had wanted to be alone. That decision had been a mistake. Adam bit the inside of his cheek and peeked at his tormentor.

“I’ll give you till the count of five.” Billy towered over Adam. “If you don’t tell me where my ladder is by the time I finish, you’ll pay. One. Two. Three.” He counted off each number on the fingers of his right hand.

Adam hunched over, squeezed his eyes shut, and awaited his fate. A fleeting urge to run overcame him, but he couldn’t outrun Billy. Despite being overweight, Billy was fast, and running away would only make him angrier. Adam knew he’d pay once Billy caught up to him. No, it was better to stay put and accept his doom. Besides, he and Billy were neighbors, so it wasn’t like Adam could hide from the boy.

Meanwhile, Luana Porcello and her best friend, Phoebe Chen, rode along one of the many bike paths that wove throughout the park grounds. The girls were on their way home after spending the morning at the Oakdale Animal Shelter orientation for new volunteers. Their friend, Carmen Diaz, a long-time volunteer at the shelter, had been showing them the ropes.

Phoebe noticed the four boys in the distance as they turned a corner, and the playground appeared. She recognized Billy and his cronies and slowed her bike. “I wonder what’s going on over there?” 

Luana’s brow creased as she followed Phoebe’s gaze with her eyes. “Hmm. I doubt it’s anything good.”

“That’s for sure. Billy Green and those two he hangs with are bad news, and they have that poor kid outnumbered.” She glanced at Luana. “Maybe we should go find out what’s going on. He might need help. What do you think?” Without waiting for an answer, Phoebe changed directions and pedaled toward the playground.

“Phoebe! Wait!” Luana increased her speed, trying to catch up to her friend. Sometimes, she wished Phoebe would think before she acted.

About the Author

Caron Pescatore was born in the United Kingdom. She spent most of her childhood in Jamaica before migrating to the United States. After practicing as a registered nurse for many years, Caron decided to enter law school, obtaining her J.D. in 2001. She worked as an attorney for several years before leaving the profession to become a stay-at-home mom—her most challenging career to date. She recently resumed working as an attorney at Legal Aid, representing people from marginalized communities. Ms. Pescatore is passionate about justice and fairness for all, a sentiment that led, in part, to her decision to write the Kids’ Court Whodunit series. Her favorite pastimes are reading, writing, and watching true-crime shows. She also recently discovered a love of painting using stencils. At present, Ms. Pescatore lives in Florida with her husband and two children.

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Tuesday Teaser

Antler and Bone Teaser Tuesday


(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 art.

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 paints.

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 trees.

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 flame.


About the Author

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


Author’s Facebook

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

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Tuesday Teaser

The Damned Teaser Tuesday


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 noises.

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


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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 horrors.


Follow C. L. Hart

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Tuesday Teaser

Cyrus Teaser Tuesday


Iron Tzars MC, Book 8


MC Club Romance

Date Published: September 8, 2023

Publisher: Changeling Press

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Odette — My life has gone down the toilet. I accidentally got myself involved with a married man and had an… accident. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love the cheating bastard, but I hate that I got played. Naturally I did what any self-respecting eighteen year old would do. I went to a karaoke bar and got wasted. Not my finest moment. So, when I land in the arms of a man I’ve fantasized over for the past two years, I’m not even surprised. My luck is just that bad.

Cyrus — The first time I met Odette she was only sixteen and already more trouble than I knew what to do with. She’d been about to make a mistake with a prospect from her brother’s club when I intervened. The next time I see her, two years later, she’s singing like an angel, drunk off her ass. I have to get her out of that bar. Taking her home with me to our club doctor feels like the right thing to do. Deciding she’s mine to care for and protect might make me a possessive bastard, but I don’t like the word no so I’m not giving her the chance to object.


WARNING: Graphic violence and adult situations that may be triggers for some readers. Features a protective hero and a determined heroine. Eventual happy ending and NO cheating, as always.





All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2023 Marteeka Karland


Odette Muse was trouble with a capital T-R-O-U-B-L-E. She was also the much younger half-sister of a man I knew when we were in the Air Force together. Last I heard, he still lived in Palm Beach, Florida, and rode with a club called Salvation’s Bane. I’d met Odette there where she was trying to sneak into the compound with a prospect she was way too good for. At sixteen she’d been a free spirit. In love with life and all the pleasures of the flesh, so to speak. That had only been two years ago, but it was a memory that was clear as fucking crystal. I’d stopped her from fucking that prospect by dragging her back to her brother, but I had no doubt she’d found someone else. Hopefully a man more worthy of her beauty and passion. As well as closer to her own fucking age. Though now, at eighteen, I suppose it didn’t matter as much.

I clenched my fists as I made my way toward the stage like I was in a trance. Emotions were elusive for me. Things better left in a sealed box inside my mind. Not today. Rage like nothing I’d ever experienced poured through me like molten lava. Hot and viscous. It clung to my insides and seared me from the inside out as I watched other men watching her. Touching her when she danced near them as she sang fucking karaoke. I wasn’t good with emotions. Mine or anyone else’s. So this punch to the gut was as unwelcome as it was unexpected.

Odette was better than this. She should sing her own songs. Be in a famous band. Anything other than being the main entertainment at fucking karaoke night in a backwoods bar. I was torn between jerking her off the stage and taking her out back to spank her delectable ass, or killing any motherfucker who touched her. Maybe I’d do both.

I’d just reached the stage when the song ended. She stood there with a huge smile on her face, holding a microphone while she waved at the cheering crowd. Odette jumped straight up, throwing her arms in the air in joy, laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world. What the fuck was she doing here? And why wouldn’t Blade give us a heads-up if he knew his sister was coming this way?

She stumbled sideways and nearly fell on her ass. Thank God I was there to catch her or she’d have broken her fool neck falling from the stage. Like she hadn’t just fallen off the stage right into a strange man’s arms, Odette laughed and threw her arms around my neck. I could smell the alcohol on her the second she dropped into my arms but also her own faint scent of honeysuckle. That scent had haunted me ever since the first day I met Odette.

The little nymph buried her face in my neck and inhaled. “Ain’t smelled a man like you since I tried to nail me a biker.” God, that sultry voice! The woman had me hard as a fucking rock with just her fucking voice. And her scent. And the softness of her skin. The crowd roared and the people next to us pawed at her. She seemed oblivious as she nuzzled her face against my skin. “So delicious…”

“Snap out of it, Odette!” I growled at her. No clue if she heard me or not, but I doubted she did. Even if it wasn’t so loud I couldn’t hear myself think in there, especially once another song started up and the next singer belted out her song as loud as Odette had, I was pretty sure Odette was completely wasted. Anything I said or did until she sobered up would be a waste of time and breath.


About the Author

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.


Author’s Instagram and Twitter: @MarteekaKarland

Publisher on Facebook, Twitter & Instagram: @changelingpress


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Tuesday Teaser

RAM Teaser Tuesday


Devil’s Fury MC, Book 12

A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance


Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap

Date Published: August 25, 2023

Publisher: Changeling Press

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Talia — Every man in my life, including my father, has betrayed me. My past has made me cynical, twisted my mind, and left bruises that will never fade. Then I’m kidnapped and this big biker swoops in to save the day. I watch as he kills four men, and the blood on his hands should terrify me. Seeing how kind he is when rescuing everyone, how he takes charge and won’t leave anyone behind, makes me wonder if not all men are useless. He says I can trust him, and he wants me to stick around. I’ve always run before, but something about this man makes me want to give him a chance. I only hope I won’t regret it.

Ram — I left my club and never planned to go back. They thought I was dead, and I wanted to keep it that way. But things don’t always go according to plan. I roll up to the gates with six women in tow. One of them I’d love to claim as my own. She’s prickly and defensive, but I find her utterly adorable. I want to keep her, but she pushes me away. When one of the other victims asks to stay with me, I know it’s my one chance to convince Talia to give me a shot. Now I’ve gone from a vigilante with no home to a family man. No matter how many men I have to kill, I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Never again will someone hurt those who are precious to me.


WARNING: Ram (Devil’s Fury MC) is intended for readers 18+ due to adult content and situations, including human trafficking and mentions of abuse. Reader discretion is advised.





Copyright ©2023 Harley Wylde




I’d been too late to save the young girl Vega targeted, but I wouldn’t fail this time. The woman in his grasp looked to be no more than nineteen years old. The way she slumped told me she’d either been drugged or knocked unconscious. I knew Vega would do unspeakable things to her. As much as I wanted to rip her from his arms right here and now, I knew it was better to wait. He likely had other victims and I hoped he would lead me to them. If at all possible, tonight I would save more than one life.

The ink on my back felt as if it burned, a reminder of the life I’d left behind. I hadn’t worn my club colors in more than a decade. After I’d gone nomad, I’d disappeared, making sure my brothers couldn’t find me. They didn’t know of my failed mission, and I hoped they never did. Because of me, multiple lives had been lost. I knew saving this woman and the others couldn’t make up for what I’d done before, but it was the only way I knew of to ease the burden on my guilty conscience.

I clung to the shadows out-of-sight, a knife gripped in my hand. The woman let out a soft moan and I hoped she wouldn’t wake any time soon. Vega would do whatever it took to keep her quiet, and I wanted her to suffer as little as possible. There was no telling what he had already done to her.

Following silently, I kept him within sight. Vega made his way through the shady neighborhood, fast approaching the warehouses on the opposite end. I held back as he entered the last structure on the right. The few windows I saw were covered in dust and grime, but I knew I needed to at least try to get a glimpse inside the building. If I had my brothers with me, things would have been different. I didn’t know if they’d ever accept me back again, or if they even knew I was still alive. Only Badger had kept in touch. Confronting Vega alone wasn’t a good idea. I knew he had multiple men working under him including extra hired muscle. Many would call this a suicide mission. Perhaps they were right, but I didn’t care if I died today as long as the innocent women and girls inside the building would be safe.

Through the dirt-encrusted glass, I could see Vega and three other men. The woman he’d carried inside was now slumped in a chair, her wrists tied to the arms. A trickle of blood ran from her temple down the side of her face. I wondered how else he’d hurt her. Scanning the room, I saw a row of cages, each filled with at least one teenage girl or young woman. None looked over the age of twenty and the youngest appeared to be near thirteen. I couldn’t stand sick fucks like Vega.

I watched for another twenty minutes, keeping an eye on any changes. So far, it didn’t look like Vega had other men with him. Three didn’t seem like much for someone like him. Which meant they were either on their way or he felt secure with such a small detail. If I had my sniper rifle, it would have been much easier to take them out. Instead, all I had was my nine millimeter and my knife. There was no way to end their miserable lives without getting closer.

Part of me wanted to feel Vega’s blood and watch as the light dimmed from his eyes. The average person might have considered him a monster, but tonight I was the vicious thing lurking in the dark. My heart kept a steady rhythm as I watched and waited. I knew I’d have to move before he harmed the woman anymore, yet I couldn’t be careless and rush into danger. Doing so would only end all our lives.

I backed away from the window as the phone vibrated in my pocket. Pulling it out I checked the screen. A familiar name flashed on the display. Badger. Why the hell would he be calling now?

My curiosity got the better of me and I stepped farther away from the warehouse to answer the call.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked when the call connected.

“Why do you always have to be a dick when you answer the phone? You could at least try not to sound sarcastic.”

“Maybe I just seem like one because we haven’t spoken in so long. It’s not like we talk more than once every two or three years. Is there even anyone else at the club who knows I’m still alive?”

Badger sighed. “I got the feeling you didn’t want anyone to know you were alive. Was I wrong? And don’t think for one second I’m not aware of what you’ve been up to. I’ve left you alone to do your thing, but this is news that couldn’t wait any longer.”

My gut churned. What the hell could have possibly happened to make him say such a thing? “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Grizzly. I don’t know how else to say it so I’ll just spit it out. He’s gone. Died a few months ago. I’d have called sooner but shit hit the fan around here.”

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the loss of my ex-president. I hadn’t seen him in over ten years. It never occurred to me the last time I walked out would be the last chance I ever had to speak with him.

“What happened? How did he die?” I asked.

“Too many years of bad decisions caught up to him. His health began to decline a little while back. Finally, his body just gave out. It hit the entire club hard, especially his daughters.”

The way he said the word daughters made me think there was something more to it, but now wasn’t the time to ask. I could mourn Grizzly later and ask for more details about the club. Right now, I needed to focus on the women and girls who needed my help. Besides, I’d been gone from the club for so long I didn’t even know any of Grizzly’s adopted daughters. I’d heard about them from Badger previously, but it wasn’t the same as meeting them in person.

“I appreciate the call, but now isn’t a good time. Sorry, Badger. I’ve got to go.” I hung up before he could say another word.

Creeping back over to the warehouse, I looked into the window again. While I’d been on the phone, Vega had been having a bit of fun. The poor woman tied to the chair now had multiple wounds. I could see the rise and fall of her chest and said a silent thanks she was still alive. But I worried she wouldn’t be for much longer. Whatever it took, I needed to get her and the others out of there as quickly as possible.

One of Vega’s men pulled out a pack of cigarettes and headed for the door. I knew this was my chance to take out at least one of them. When he didn’t return, Vega would suspect something was up. It was a risk I’d have to take.

I heard the warehouse door open and shut. Gripping my knife tightly, I crept around the corner. I saw the flicker of the flame from his lighter, then the soft glow from the end of a cigarette. While he remained preoccupied, I moved swiftly on silent feet. Before the asshole had a chance to even realize I was there, I placed my hand over his mouth and slit his throat.

The coppery scent of his blood filled the air, and I knew it would attract other predators, both human and animal. The clock was ticking. I leaned against the building, melding with the shadows, and waited for my next victim. It wasn’t long before another of Vega’s men came outside.

“Joe, where the fuck are you? Vega is starting to get pissed. Stop screwing around and come back inside.”

I had bad news for him. Joe wouldn’t be going back inside. He had a one-way ticket to hell…

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’s Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook: @harleywylde

Author on Twitter: @HarleyW_Writer


Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress


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Tuesday Teaser

The Big Blue Teaser Tuesday


(Protect & Serve)

Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Shifters, Suspense

Date Published: August 18, 2023


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Tundra’s a polar bear shifter with a hankering for some Big Blue.

Polar bear shifters are rare these days, and most of them keep a low profile. Tundra knows the rules, but tonight she needs to get laid, and it will take a strong man to satisfy her.

Alex’s buddies call him Big Blue, and they’re closer to the truth than most of them know, but he does his best to hide his true nature — trolls have a nasty reputation in this brave new world.

The very first time Tundra sees Blue, she knows she had to have him. What she doesn’t realize is that she’ll never want to let him go. So when Alex goes to confront the head of a vicious cabal, Tundra follows to make sure he doesn’t get hurt. After all, even a troll’s hide isn’t as thick as a polar bear’s.


Copyright ©2023 Anne Kane

I stalked across the bar and hauled myself up onto one of the few empty barstools. It looked like the entire neighborhood had decided to drown their sorrows at the same time. At least that meant there was a good selection of men available. Good thing, because right now I was feeling hornier than a werewolf during the full moon, and pissed enough not to be too picky about whom I chose to spend the night with. Talks with my self-appointed guardian Tyrone always had this effect on me. Make that monologues. I don’t think I’d managed to get in more than two words during the entire fiasco.

I waved my hand to catch Sam’s attention, and motioned him to bring me a drink. Sam had been bartending at Joe’s Bar long enough to know what I wanted. I swiveled the chair and surveyed the room, considering my options. The three guys at the pool table weren’t bad looking, and there were a few likely candidates at a table in the far corner, but they all looked just a tad too civilized for my taste tonight. I was in the mood for something wild.

A gust of wind drew my attention to the door. The man who entered sent heat curling deep in my gut. Civilized was the last word that came to mind. Hard. Wild. Uncivilized. Yeah, those described him to a T.

A riot of dark hair curled all the way to the blue uniform stretched tight across his huge shoulders. He reminded me of the football players at the inner city stadiums, wide and covered with thick ropes of muscle. A tingle of anticipation raced through me. His dark eyes swept the room with cynical disinterest as he shouldered his way through the noisy crowd, and I found myself holding my breath as I waited for him to notice me.

“He’s trouble, Tundra. Don’t even think about it.” Sam slapped the beer down in front of me, breaking the spell.

“You know him?” I ignored the bartender’s frown. I was way past needing someone to vet my dates. “I don’t remember seeing him in here before.”

Sam nodded. “Alex is a loner, a beat cop down at the precinct. He doesn’t come in here often. Last time he did, it took me two days to clean up the mess.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice so I had to strain to hear his words. “I heard a rumor that there’s a troll somewhere in his family tree, and I’m inclined to believe it.”

“Really.” I swept my tongue across my suddenly dry lips as I watched the slide of tight material over his ass. “That could make things very… interesting.” Sam snorted and shook his head as I took a long pull on my drink. “That’s one word for it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

I laughed, throwing him a saucy grin as I slid off the barstool. “Warning duly noted. Wish me luck!” Turning my back on his disapproving frown, I wound my way through the dense crowd toward my target.

He’d taken a seat at a small table and was watching the trio at the pool table mangle a simple game of spots and stripes. One of the scantily clad waitresses swooped in to deposit a drink in front of him, bending forward so far that I fully expected her ample bosoms to fall out of the low-cut bodice of her dress. She had better not be under the impression that she stood a chance with him, because I was more than willing to get into a fight tonight. A little pre-coitus bloodshed would be just a bonus.

The man tossed some credits at her, and she flounced away to take orders from another table. I found myself feeling mildly disappointed. I hadn’t been in a good fight in at least two moons. Wouldn’t hurt to get in a little practice.

Reaching my destination, I pulled out the other chair at the table and sat down beside my target. I took my time assessing him close up, letting my gaze wander from the tips of his serviceable boots and up his muscular legs to the impressive bulge at his groin. Looked like I wouldn’t have to work too hard to get what I wanted.

I took another gulp of my beer and considered the vast expanse of his chest, barely covered by the tight uniform. A unicorn tattoo on his biceps seemed incongruous with the rough attitude, and being my usual tactful self, I decided not to mention it.

Yeah, right. Me? Tactful? “So what’s with the prissy little horse?” I nodded at the tattoo. “Lose a bet or something?”

I found myself staring into the darkest eyes I’d ever encountered; pools of liquid heat. For a moment, I thought I’d blown my chance of playing ride-em cowboy with him, but then the corners of his eyes crinkled and he let out a bellow of real, straight-from-the-gut laughter. It made him look even hotter, which I hadn’t thought possible. My libido kicked into high gear, and I could feel the liquid heat gathering at the apex of my thighs. Idly, I wondered if he’d go for the direct approach and save us both some time. I decided not to risk it.

“The prissy little horse has a certain sentimental value that I only share with close friends.” The man’s eyes swept over me with obvious interest. “Do I know you?”

I decided to play it cool and mysterious. Who knows? It worked on those old video flicks they showed on public TV. “Not yet, but the night is young.” Okay, that just sounded stupid. I smiled in what I hoped was a seductive manner. “My name is Tundra.”

A slow, sexy smile turned his face into an open invitation — one I had every intention of accepting. When he spoke, his voice had the smooth, deep inflection of a very old bottle of expensive whiskey. “That’s a very unusual name. Nice to meet you, Tundra.”

He held his hand out and I stared at it like an idiot. He wanted to shake hands? Not exactly what I’d envisioned, but hey, it was a start. I took his hand and shook it. It was big. Real big. Heat crawled up my spine as I imagined it caressing my breasts. Or sliding across my naked ass. “Nice to meet you too…” I arched my eyebrow as it occurred to me I had no idea what his name was.

The smile widened. “Alex. But most people just call me Big Blue.”

I took a long drink, letting the silence stretch out. “Big Blue. How interesting. Referring to your uniform, I assume?”

He chuckled. “Well, that would be the Blue part.”

“And the Big?” It took all my self-control to keep my gaze from straying to that thick bulge at his groin.

He kept eye contact, the grin on his face taking on a mischievous look as he reached for my hand and drew it slowly toward his lap. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. Under my questing fingers, that huge lump grew even bigger. Big Blue indeed! “Oh my.”


About the Author

Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then she has published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all with a happily ever after.

She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing guitar, singing and of course, reading.

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


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Tuesday Teaser

Polly’s Gold Teaser Tuesday


(Sisters Three 2): A Stream and Spells Steampunk Adventure


Historical / Steampunk / Romance

Date Published: 08/04/2023

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC


The consequences of the Lewellen murder continue to plague the Preston sisters. Polly braves an ice storm to recover the bag of gold sovereigns she dropped from the airship and falls into the hands of desperate fugitives. Molly the factory girl is taken to the country estate of her employer Mr. Allenby, who is showing more than gentlemanly interest, and Dolly the wagtail follows with her lusty client Pascal Baudelaire in tow.

Why are the mysterious and threatening Agents of the Queen, Miss Clayton and Miss Cressy, snooping about? When the Jamieson twins show up out of the blue to proposition Molly, the green-eyed monster threatens Pascal’s equilibrium.

Mayhem follows the sisters as they seek to disentangle themselves from the mystery and gain their freedom from the dangerous streets of London. Their future depends on the money, but will Polly accept that gold doesn’t always come in the shape of coins?




Copyright ©2023 Mikala Ash

Polly’s Gold (Sisters Three 2)


The lighted windows of Gravesend lay far behind me. Ahead the ice storm had transformed the marshes into a dark frozen wasteland.

I too had been transformed. That realisation diverted me from the pain of frozen limbs, and the despair that threatened to unhinge me.

Who was I before?

Just a few days ago I’d been a daughter, a sister, mistress of the Golden Bell pub, and known throughout London’s East End as the Bell Gang leader’s moll, “Queen of the Bells,” or less generously: Bill’s cunt.

Who had I become?

I’m still a daughter and sister, but events over the last few days, much like an unexpected storm from the North sweeping all before it, have altered my state in the world and within myself too. Bill had been brutally murdered, and I was alone, with no protection in the savage world of the docklands. By avenging Bill’s murder, I’d become a killer, a vicious one at that. Since departing the pub without a word, I was probably mistress of the Golden Bell no longer, and the new leader of the gang, Isiah Spike, a nasty weasel-faced sod if ever there was one, wouldn’t countenance my absence, and would punish me for it, if he ever got the chance. Lastly by trudging through this freezing wilderness, I’d turned treasure hunter.

Thanks to the late hour, and the driving sleet, the road out of Gravesend was deserted. I’d been plodding along this forsaken stretch for a full half hour after being deposited by a tiler’s dray at the end of Norfolk Road. The wind howled, the icy rain pattered on my oilskin hood, and the cold air rasped my throat. My nose was blocked and aching in the cold. Except for my frozen face, Bill’s coat, hood and cape kept my body dry, if not warm. Inside Bill’s wet and now ruined boots, my feet were like numb blocks of wood. My complete costume, even down to the silk drawers, were Bill’s. I’d decided a man would attract less attention than a woman here on the southern reaches of the Thames and had dressed accordingly.

The image of Bill’s mutilated body flooded my eyes with freezing tears. He’d only been dead a few days, murdered and defiled by a fiend in human form, a madman named James Polk. Bill, my lover and protector, had been the ruthless leader of the Bell Gang, and with his death my position was null and void. The pretenders to the throne had fought it out, and the mollisher of the dead king was surplus to requirements, as they already had their cunts ready to hand. My offer to continue running the pub with Hannah, the cousin of Bill’s lieutenant, also dead by the same hand, was my one chance of staying alive, at least for the next few days.

I’d taken my bloody revenge on Polk. Yet knowing Bill’s killer was dead brought me no joy, just a cold hollowness in my chest. The chapter that Bill occupied in my life had been closed so quickly, so emphatically, I’d no time to mourn, and I expected my present task would simply delay the final release of grief.

Just a few days ago, one by one, my sisters: Molly, the factory girl, Dolly the wagtail, and I, had been kidnapped by the monster and his henchman. We’d been held captive on an airship, and threatened with death to reveal a secret we did not possess. In a desperate and savage fight we’d overcome our abductors and found ourselves adrift in danger of being lost. Luckily the River Police and marines in a military airship from Shornemead Fort had rescued us before we had floated out to sea. I’d been held at Scotland Yard for a day for prolonged and incessant questioning. Inspector Astonberry knew we were lying about the real circumstances of Polk’s death, but we stayed true to our story, though it was a complete fiction. The inspector knew that Bill was up to his neck in something that had led to his slaughter and, to his obvious chagrin, he could not trip me up to discover what it was.

That was because I did not know. Bill had hidden a sack of gold sovereigns from me, and when I discovered it he wouldn’t tell me where the money had come from. That was out of character as he was usually so proud of his little schemes. I suspected this had been what got him killed. But what had he done for it, and who had paid him? Had it been a normal crime, so to speak, such as burglary, or extortion? Or had he been, as the inspector suspected, tied up in the traitorous buying of stolen secrets from the Allenby factory? I didn’t know. Polk had taken Bill’s gold, and I’d taken it back, and held it for a few minutes before making it safe, or so I hoped.

I missed Bill so. My body ached for him…


About the Author

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.


Author’s Instagram and Twitter: @ash_mikala

Author’s Facebook: @mikala.ash.9


Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress


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