Teaser Tuesday: The Brat by Megan Slayer #teasertuesday #excerpt #comingsoon #preorder #mafiaromance #romanticsuspense #rabtbooktours @changelingpress @MeganSlayer

 

Mafia Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: August 8, 2025

Daddy’s Girl…

Betty Ann

I love my position as the daughter of the King of Clubs. I do what I want, when I want, and get what I want -- I don't like being told no. Ever. Daddy lets me get away with everything. Not Sarge, though. He drives me crazy and makes me play by the rules... So why do I want to keep him around?

Sarge

I'm Army to the core and live for the rules. I need order, but BA creates chaos. She pushes and demands. She wants everything... So why do I want to give it to her? I can't resist her and I should. Her father will destroy me if I touch her and I very much want to touch her. But is the saucy woman in the mini dress worth my life?

She just might be.

EXCERPT

Betty Ann

“I don’t think there’s any man who can tame me, Nina.” Betty Ann Morris stood in front of her floor-length mirror and ran her fingers through her stick-straight hair. “I don’t.”

Nina, her best friend and closest confidante, joined her at the mirror. “I don’t know. You’re nineteen. I’m sure there’s someone out there. Has to be.”

Betty Ann considered what Nina had said, but didn’t agree. She wasn’t that naive. Men viewed her one of two ways -- either as the pixie that needed to be given some experience, only to find out she had more than they did, or as a tart who deserved to be treated like shit.

“You don’t believe me.” Nina shrugged, then walked out of view. “You’ve grown up too fast. So have I, but whatever.”

“Deep.” Betty Ann turned on her heel and strode over to her closet. Nina wasn’t wrong about them growing up too fast. How could she not? Her father – known as The King of Clubs -- owned the biggest chain of nightclubs in the tristate area. She’d frequented his clubs since she was far too young to be in such places. She’d mixed with the wrong crowds and tried things she never should’ve been around.

Why? It was fun. She flipped a lock of her hair over her shoulder, then considered her wardrobe. “We’re going out tonight.”

“Like we do every Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights.” Nina padded across the thick carpet. She held up a teal sequined dress, then tossed the garment onto the bed. “What about that one?” She pointed to a black dress.

“Might work.” She wasn’t sure which dress she’d choose. She’d seen a few things in her nineteen years. Getting close to her wasn’t possible most of the time. If her father wasn’t forcing men away, they ended up dead. “Where do you want to go? Vodka Lounge? Or The Martini?”

“I thought we’d try the new one. Hitchcock’s.” Nina shrugged into a tight pink dress. The bright color worked well with her dark hair. The fabric pressed against her breasts and showcased her nipples. When she danced, she’d definitely gain attention.

“I like that dress on you. Looks better with your complexion than it does with mine.” She yanked dresses aside, until she found something suitable. “How about this one?” She plucked a navy dress. The garment sparkled with a few thousand crystals.

“Yes.” Nina nodded. She laced up the side of her dress. “That works with your curves and the color of your hair.”

Betty Ann had to agree. She’d spent a fortune on the bleaching process this time around. Some might want the brassy look, but she insisted on her blonde being as California blonde as possible. Beachy, natural-looking and perfect for her skin tone. Call her vain, but she insisted she looked good.

She stepped into the dress and slipped her arm through the lone strap. Once she adjusted the garment around her breasts, showcasing plenty of cleavage, she zipped the side. The second the fabric encased her torso, a jolt of electricity rocked through her. The right dress always set the tone for the night.

She pulled her hair back from her face and stood before her makeup table.

“That’s one thing I’ve always loved about you. Unlike most girls our age, you know how to do your makeup without overdoing it,” Nina said. “I’m jealous of your skills with a makeup brush.”

“The trick is to keep your makeup as simple as possible so it looks natural. If you do that, then you won’t age yourself.” She finished applying a nude eye shadow, then applied the perfect cat-eye liner.

“Are you going to bag a man tonight?” Nina asked. She pursed her lips before swiping another line of lipstick across her bottom lip. “You always do -- when you want one.”

“I’m considering it.” She finished her makeup, then left the mirror. “I never get turned down. You don’t either.”

“Because I get your leftovers.” Nina remained at the mirror. “I don’t think that guy at The Martini was all that thrilled to get me over you.”

“He wasn’t my type and he sure seemed interested in you.” Betty Ann opened the door to her shoe closet. “That’s why I steered him to you.”

“I didn’t mind, but it would’ve been nice if he did like me.” Nina finished her makeup. “I’m not gorgeous like you.”

“Who says?” She selected a pair of strappy sandals. She’d been walking in heels since she was thirteen and had perfected her sway.

“Me.” Nina stepped into her shoes, then picked up her clutch purse. “You like to play with fire. Those guys at the club aren’t going to want a princess.”

She snorted. “You’re saying I’m a princess?” Of course, she was. She insisted on getting her way, she could be a brat and she demanded a lot from everyone.

“You should have a crown.” Nina clicked her purse shut. “Are we going to be able to bring purses or just keep them in the car?”

“Car.” She fastened the strap on her left shoe, then adjusted the one on the right shoe. “It’s safer that way. We won’t get our shit stolen and the bouncers have to do whatever I want.” She’d been spoiled that way.

“I know.” Nina waited for Betty Ann to finish smoothing her dress. “You’re going to find a guy who isn’t turned on by your princess act, won’t like that you can’t exist without daddy’s money and clout, and he’ll make you think twice about your lifestyle.”

“Right,” she replied. “I know who to play with and who to throw back. If the guy is going to give me too much shit, then he’s not worth it. Let’s go.” She flicked her hand.

With Nina behind her, she strode downstairs to the ground floor, through the kitchen to the expansive foyer before stopping under the covered driveway arch.

Her favorite car was driven up to where she stood and Dirks, the driver she liked best, exited the vehicle. He opened the back door for her.

“Thank you, Dirks.” She settled on the seat, then moved over for Nina. “We’re going to Hitchcock’s.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He closed the door behind Nina and hustled around the hood to the driver’s side. The privacy glass kept him from listening to their conversation. She swore he still listened in on what she said, but she wasn’t positive.

“You might know who to play with and who to avoid, but there’s a guy out there who won’t be such a pushover,” Nina said. “One you can’t order around.”

“I doubt that.” Betty Ann stared out the window at the landscape flying by. Living on more than one hundred acres was nice, but it made quick trips to town almost impossible. “Men are here to be played with. They don’t want relationships -- not with a girl like me.”

Guys her age wanted to bag “the hot chick” and older men wanted to bag the “hot young girl.” If she was told one more time she had coltish legs, she’d scream. Yes, she had long legs and knew how to wrap them around a man’s waist during sex, but she wasn’t wobbly on those legs. Not by a long shot.

“What do you mean?” Nina asked. “You’ll find a man tonight. Bet me you won’t.”

“How much?”

“One hundred bucks.”

Nina hadn’t even flinched. Damn. “You’re on. What are the terms?”

“I bet you find the one man tonight that makes you give him two nights. The guy who makes you think twice. You’ll get hung up on him,” Nina said. “And you’ll like it.”

“And I bet you that’s all bullshit.”

Nina shrugged, then held out her hand. “You’ll see.”

“Nina.” She nudged her friend. “It won’t happen.” Men were toys to play with. They were meant to be discarded when they outlived their welcome. There was always another waiting when she desired.

“You’ll get hung up on this one and lose your head.” Nina laughed. “Not that I want your money. I want to see you eat your words.”

“Never.”

 

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.

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Teaser Tuesday: Salvation by Harley Wylde #comingsoon #preorder #excerpt #motorcycleclubromance #mcromance #rabtbooktours @ChangelingPress

Reckless Kings MC, Book 6

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: July 25, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press

Is it friendship or something more? I think I’m ready to find out.

Yulia -- They call him Salvation, and that’s exactly what he’s been for me. I was only sixteen when he swept me up into his arms and carried me out of hell. Things were so bad, all I wanted was to die. He and his club, the Reckless Kings, they saved me. Salvation’s never touched me, even though we’re technically married, and he honestly has enough on his plate already with a daughter who’s badly scarred from an explosion. But we’ve been together for eleven years now, and the older I get, the more I want our marriage to be real.

Salvation -- Since the day Yulia came to live with me, I’ve not once cheated on her. She’s legally my wife, and that’s all that matters. Besides, my daughter, Clover, has kept me busy. Now Clover’s nearly an adult and I’ve noticed the way Yulia looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. But can we have a real marriage when we’ve been nothing but friends all these years? It’s too bad my family has be to taken before I realize the answer to that question. Now I’ll do whatever it takes to get Clover and Yulia back, and I’ll send their kidnappers straight to hell.

Warning: Salvation is intended for readers 18+ due to adult situations, bad language, and violence. It can be read as a stand-alone, but the series will be enjoyed more if read in order. This is a slow-burn romance with steamy scenes. There’s no cliffhanger, no cheating, and a guaranteed HEA!

 

Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2025 Harley Wylde

Yulia

The wind whipped my hair across my face, stinging my eyes as I stood at the edge of the school grounds. My heart pounded, each beat a reminder of the choice before me. Memories flashed through my mind -- cruel hands, mocking laughter, endless fear. I closed my eyes, willing the images away.

This was it. The end. My fingers trembled as I gripped the knife tighter. Just one cut and it would all be over. No more pain. No more shame. I took a shaky breath. “Prosti menya, sestra,” I whispered. Forgive me, sister.

The blade glinted in the fading sunlight. So sharp. So final. I pressed it to my wrist.

A roar split the air.

My eyes snapped open. In the distance, a motorcycle engine growled, growing louder. Closer. I hesitated, the knife hovering above my skin. Who would come here? Why now? The engine’s rumble filled my ears, drowning out the frantic beating of my heart. Despite myself, I turned toward the sound.

A flicker of… something. Not quite hope. But curiosity. A momentary distraction from the abyss. I lowered the knife, just slightly. My mind raced. Should I wait? See who it was? Or finish what I’d started?

The motorcycle drew nearer. Any moment now, it would crest the hill. I bit my lip, indecision paralyzing me. The wind continued to howl around me, urging me forward. But that sound… it called to me. Promising… what?

I didn’t know.

For just a moment, my despair lifted. And in that moment, I chose to wait.

The motorcycle crested the hill, its rider a dark silhouette against the blazing orange sky. My breath caught in my throat. He was massive, all broad shoulders and muscled limbs, his leather cut emblazoned with a patch I couldn’t quite make out.

He dismounted in one fluid motion, his boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. My fingers tightened around the knife as he strode toward me, his pace urgent but measured. “Easy now, darlin’,” he called out, his voice a low rumble that carried on the wind. “Why don’t you put that knife down?”

I shook my head, taking a step back. “Stay away,” I warned. “I don’t know you.”

He slowed his approach, hands raised placatingly. “Name’s Hawk. I’m with the Reckless Kings. I was sent here to help. A few of my brothers are waiting nearby to make sure we don’t run into trouble.”

My mind reeled. The Reckless Kings? How did they know? Why would they care? “No one can help,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “It’s too late.”

Hawk took another careful step forward. “It’s never too late, sweetheart. Trust me on that.”

I laughed, a bitter sound that surprised even me. “Trust? I don’t even know what that means anymore.”

His gaze met mine. “Then let me show you. Just… put the knife down. Please.”

My hand trembled. Part of me wanted to believe him, to grasp at this lifeline he was offering. But the fear, the pain of the past years, it all threatened to drown me. “I can’t,” I choked out. “You don’t understand what he did to me.”

Hawk’s expression softened. “Maybe not exactly. But I’ve seen enough pain in this world to recognize it. You’re not alone, Yulia. Not anymore.”

My name on his lips startled me. How did he know? Who sent him?

As if sensing my thoughts, he added, “Your sister’s worried sick. She asked us to find you.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “Oksana?”

Hawk nodded. “She loves you. Let us help. Let me take you somewhere safe.”

The knife slipped in my grasp, my resolve wavering… The knife clattered to the ground, and my legs gave out. I crumpled, expecting to hit the cold earth. Instead, strong arms caught me, steadying me against a broad chest.

“I’ve got you,” Hawk murmured, his voice a low rumble. “You’re safe now.”

I trembled, my body wracked with silent sobs. Years of pent-up fear and pain poured out of me as Hawk held me, his grip firm but gentle. “Can you walk?” he asked after a moment.

I nodded weakly, not trusting my voice. Hawk kept an arm around me as he guided me toward his motorcycle. The machine loomed before us, all gleaming chrome and sleek lines. “Ever ridden before?” Hawk asked, swinging his leg over the seat.

I shook my head, eyeing the bike warily. “Nyet… no.”

He extended his hand. “First time for everything. Hold on tight, okay?”

With shaking fingers, I grasped his hand and climbed on behind him. The leather of his cut was smooth under my palms as I wrapped my arms around his waist. I heard three more motorcycles and noticed the men were also from the Reckless Kings.

“Ready?” Hawk called over his shoulder.

“Da,” I whispered, tightening my grip.

The engine roared to life, vibrating through my entire body. We took off, the world blurring around us as we sped away from the school grounds. Away from my nightmares.

I pressed my face against Hawk’s back, the wind whipping my hair. Part of me still couldn’t believe this was real. That I was escaping. That someone had come for me. “Where are we going?” I shouted over the engine’s rumble.

“Somewhere safe,” Hawk called back. “Our compound. You’ll be protected there.”

Protected. The word sent a shiver through me -- of fear or hope, I wasn’t sure.

As we rode into the gathering darkness, I clung to Hawk, to this stranger who’d become my unexpected savior. My mind raced with questions, with doubts. But for now, I let the roar of the engine drown out my thoughts, focusing only on the road ahead and the promise of safety it held.

Tears stung my eyes, instantly whisked away by the biting wind. My chest ached with each ragged breath, emotions churning like a storm inside me. Gratitude and terror warred for dominance.

“You okay back there?” Hawk’s voice barely reached me over the engine’s roar.

I nodded against his back, not trusting my voice. My fingers dug into the leather of his cut, anchoring me to this surreal moment.

 

About the Author

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

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

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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

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Teaser Tuesday: Xavier by Marteeka Karland #comingsoon #excerpt #teaser #preorder #mcromance #rabtbooktours @changelingpress

Kiss of Death MC

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: July 18, 2025

Xavier may be an ex-con, but he’s strong, protective, and totally sexy. He’s my hero.

 

Tillie: At the lowest time in my life, I realize I might have gained my very own guardian angel. I never saw Xavier as more than a friend, but then he went to prison for me. I’ll never forget his sacrifice. He’s the one person I can tell anything, the one person I trust above all else. He’s also the man I’ve built up in my little fantasy world as being the perfect husband. Only problem is, I forgot he’s still a killer. How can I be with a man who’s capable of taking a life? I’m torn between my growing feelings for him and my fear of what it means to love a man like Xavier.

Xavier: Did I have to kill the man who beat Tillie? No. But I’m headed to prison anyway, so why not get an added bonus? Tillie defended me to anyone who would listen, but I still never expected she’d be almost religious in coming to see me every Saturday. I also didn’t expect to fall in love with the beautiful, spirited woman. Seeing her smile now is worth the extra time I’m spending away from my brothers in Kiss of Death and the comfort of home. Unfortunately, my little Tillie is a magnet for trouble. Good thing she has me to protect her, because there is nothing I won’t do for Tillie. Nothing. If I have to kill for her again, so be it. Anyone who touches her is dead. May God have mercy, because I won’t.

 

Warning: Adult situations, graphic language, and violence, which may be a trigger for some readers.

 

EXCERPT

 

Xavier

“Hey, Sugar.” The one bright spot in my life was Tillie St. Martin. Ironic because the night I found her was in the middle of the worst damned storm I’d ever tried to drive through. That was also the night that changed mine and Tillie’s lives forever.

I think I had a weird sort of connection with her from the second she looked at me over her shoulder, soaked to the skin in ripped and blood-stained clothing, with an angry-looking bruise forming on her left cheek. She was walking down a two-lane country road at one in the morning. Nothing good happens at one in the morning if you’re forced to walk on a deserted road in the middle of a storm.

“I did it, Xave!” She grinned brightly at me through the bulletproof glass. She had the wall phone to her ear and looked so happy my heart was breaking.

Then I frowned. “Wait a minute. You’re not moving to San Diego with that creep you were telling me about last month, are you?”

“What?” She jerked back, a scowl on her face. “You honestly think I’m that stupid?”

I had a moment of panic. Clearly, I’d fucked up. I just wasn’t sure how. “Of course, you’re not stupid!” I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck. “But I’m not sure what I said to make you think I’d think you were stupid?” She raised her eyebrows. “OK, clearly, we need to start over.”

Then she broke out into giggles. “You’re so cute when you think I’m irritated at you.”

“I kinda thought I’d said something to thoroughly piss you off.”

“Pfft.” She waved away my words. “I could never be pissed at you. You’re my hero after all.”

“Aww, Tillie. You have no idea… Seeing you smile, how much happier you look now… You kind of gave me a whole new outlook on life.”

“Oh?” She was still smiling but she looked genuinely curious. Not like she was humoring me. “What’s that?”

“Sometimes, the outcome is worth the fuckin’ consequence.” I grumbled out the words, but it was the fucking truth. Yes, I was in prison. Would I rather be on the outside with my brothers? Sure. But I could pull my weight with the club in prison same as I could out. Given that I had some good connections here in Terre Haute, I figured I’d make the best of a bad situation. Like I said, some things were just worth the cost.

Tillie’s face softened and she put her palm against the window. I put mine over hers against the glass. I’d never actually touched her skin, but I could imagine how her hand would entwine with mine. She was twenty-three years old. Way to fucking young for me when compared to my thirty-eight years, but her life experiences made her seem older sometimes.

“You ended my nightmare, Xavier. I will never take that for granted. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Only thing I ever want from you is for you to be happy. You never have to come back here, Tillie. I know this is a scary place sometimes. But if you do come by occasionally, I hope you always have a smile this bright on your face.” That got me another beautiful smile, but also a trembling chin and two tears from her pale green eyes. “So. If you’re not moving to San Diego with Dipshit, what’s got you all smiles, Sugar?”

She gave a watery laugh as she swiped at her tears. “I did it.”

“Well, yeah, you said that.” I grinned, trying not to chuckle but failing miserably. “Gonna have to give me an antecedent to go with your pronoun, baby.”

That really got an amused laugh from her. “Really? Antecedent?”

“Hey. You’re the author between the two of us. You should know those kinds of words, what they mean, and how to avoid making me say them.”

“Fine. It refers to buying a house.” She bounced in her seat excitedly.

I grinned. “You’ll have to show me pictures when you get moved in.”

“Oh, I will.” Her grin got even wider. “Want to know the best part?”

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“I’m moving to Terre Haute.”

OK, this was unexpected. She lived an hour and a half away but had never mentioned she was moving, let alone anywhere close by. “Honey, why would you move to Terre Haute?”

“Two reasons.” She straightened, her smile still really wide. “First, Terre Haute has way more affordable housing. I found a house for half the price in Terre Haute than I could find in Indianapolis.”

“I could see that.” I tried to keep a lighthearted expression on my face, but I could tell something was up. “But why get a place of your own at all? I thought you were happy to stay with your folks.”

“Well, that’s the second reason.” She still smiled and still seemed happy, but also… sad? Scared?

“Tillie…” I gave her a stern look, knowing something was off. Every instinct in my body was now screaming at me. Not because I thought she was in danger. Because, I knew with every fiber of my being, someone had hurt her feelings. And that simply was not acceptable. “What. Happened?”

 

 

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts (which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

 

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Teaser Tuesday: Hammer by Harley Wylde #excerpt #comingsoon #teaser #motorcycleclubromance #Romanticsuspense #rabtbooktours @changelingpress

 

(Dixie Reapers MC)

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: June 27, 2025

 

Get ready to dive into the gritty yet heartwarming world of the Dixie Reapers.

 

Amelia: I know monsters. Hammer isn't one, regardless of what he says. He's a born protector with a big heart, and he's exactly what my family needs. Sure, there's a big age difference between us, but why should I care about other people's opinions? All that matters is that Hammer makes me happy. He's just what my sons need and he and the Dixie Reapers can protect me from my piece of s**t ex. Anything else is unimportant. Now I just have to convince him that we make a good team.

Hammer: I haven't walked the path of righteousness by any means, but it doesn't mean I'm a heartless bastard. Found out I had a kid who's now a Prospect. Discovered I had a granddaughter, and now I'm a great-grandfather. Adopted a kid who didn't have anyone. None of that makes up for the shit I've done in my past, or the fact I've been in and out of prison most of my life. So why does the sweetest woman I've ever met see me as her savior and not the monster I really am? Somehow she's become mine, along with her teen boys. If anyone ever said I'd be a family man, I'd have laughed in their faces. Guess the joke's on me.

Are you ready to experience a love story that challenges the boundaries and proves that every heart deserves a second chance?

 

Warning: Hammer is intended for readers 18+ due to adult situations, bad language, and violence. There's no cheating, no cliffhanger, and a guaranteed HEA!

 

EXCERPT

 

Amelia

I sat on the deserted Florida beach as dusk painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, my boys flanking me like sentinels. The rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore masked our hushed voices, nature’s white noise ensuring no one would overhear plans that could get us killed.

We’d chosen this spot carefully -- far enough from the tourist areas to avoid casual onlookers, but public enough that Piston wouldn’t think to look for us here. My old man hated beaches, hated sand, hated anything that couldn’t be controlled. The vastness of the ocean offended him somehow, as if the world had no right to be bigger than his ego.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the sand, stretching our silhouettes into distorted versions of ourselves. How fitting. We’d been living as warped reflections of a family for too long -- smiling in public while wearing concealer over bruises, making excuses for absences at school functions, practicing cover stories until they flowed from our lips more naturally than the truth.

“Do you think he knows we’re gone yet?” I asked, my voice barely audible above the surf.

Neither of my sons answered immediately. They’d learned to measure their words, to calculate risks before speaking. Another gift from their father.

The breeze coming off the water carried a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. Until this week, I’d been biding my time and slowly preparing. I’d learned the hard way what happened when we ran. Then things changed and I knew I needed to get us out of there. Waiting wasn’t a luxury we could afford. Watching Piston, the boy’s father, slam my youngest son’s head against the kitchen counter had severed whatever twisted loyalty I still felt toward him. I’d been with the enforcer for the Devil’s Minions for seventeen years. At least sixteen years too damn long.

I glanced at Chase’s profile, so much like his father’s it sometimes made my heart stutter with fear. But where Piston’s features were permanently hardened by cruelty and excess, my sixteen-year-old son’s face showed a different kind of hardness -- determination, protectiveness, the kind of strength that built rather than destroyed. He’d been taking the brunt of his father’s rage for years, positioning himself between Piston and his younger brother whenever possible.

On my other side sat Levi, his slender shoulders hunched against the evening air. At fifteen, he should have been worrying about homework and video games, not researching safe houses and motorcycle club rivalries. The fading yellow-green bruise around his eye made my stomach knot with guilt. I should have left years ago.

“We’ve got about eighteen hours before he realizes this isn’t a shopping trip,” Chase said finally, scanning the beach for potential threats. Always vigilant, my oldest. “Maybe less if he checks the bank account. Especially since he thinks we’re staying overnight somewhere. When we don’t check into a motel, he’ll come looking for us.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of time pressing down. Piston hadn’t wanted me to have access to money -- control was his favorite weapon -- but I’d been skimming cash from the household funds for months, hiding small bills in a tampon box he’d never deign to touch. It wasn’t much but combined with the emergency credit card I’d applied for in secret, it might be enough to get us to safety.

“He’ll come after us,” I said, stating what we all knew. Piston, aka John Minsley, didn’t lose possessions, and that’s all we were to him -- things to own, to use, to break when the mood struck him.

Levi’s fingers curled around mine, his palm clammy despite the cool evening air. “We planned for that, Mom. The Devil’s Boneyard MC --”

“Keep your voice down,” Chase hissed, though there was no one within a hundred yards of us.

The mention of another motorcycle club sent ice through my veins. Trading one MC for another seemed like jumping from the fire into a different kind of hell. But Levi had done his research, had shown me the forum posts from women who’d escaped abusive situations with their help.

“I know you’re scared,” I told them both, squeezing Levi’s hand. “I am too. But we can’t stay. Not anymore.”

The evidence of that decision was written on my youngest son’s face, in the shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and the bruising from his father’s temper. It was etched in the scars on Chase’s back from that time Piston had caught him trying to call for help. It was branded into my own skin, hidden beneath long sleeves even in Florida’s heat.

Behind us, beyond the dunes and the sparse vegetation, our packed car waited -- everything we could safely take without raising suspicion crammed into the trunk. Old clothes, important documents hidden in tampon boxes and hollowed-out books, the few mementos I couldn’t bear to leave behind.

The sky deepened to purple as we sat there, three refugees planning a desperate escape from a man who would rather see us dead than free. But in that moment, with the endless ocean before us and my boys beside me, I felt something I hadn’t experienced in years -- hope, fragile as sea foam but just as persistent.

Chase stood abruptly, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the sand as he paced a few steps away, never taking his eyes off our surroundings. At sixteen, he already carried himself like a man who’d seen too much, his shoulders set with a tension that no teenager should know. The ocean breeze ruffled his brown hair -- the same shade as mine -- but his green eyes, Piston’s eyes, scanned the beach with a vigilance that broke my heart.

“Someone’s coming,” he muttered, nodding toward a couple walking their dog at the far end of the beach. “We should move.”

I watched as he shifted his stance, angling his body to place himself between us and the distant strangers. The motion was so automatic, so ingrained, that I doubted he even realized he was doing it. Years of protecting his brother, of trying to shield me when he could -- it had become instinct. And it made me feel like a shit mother.

“They’re just walking their dog, Chase,” I said softly. “They’re not his men.”

His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping beneath his tanned skin. “You don’t know that. Piston has eyes everywhere.”

“We’ve been careful.”

“Not careful enough.” He glanced at his brother, his expression softening marginally before hardening again. “Levi’s research is good, but Piston will call in every favor, track every account, hunt down every friend we’ve ever had.” He knelt in front of me, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Mom, if we do this, there’s no halfway. We either disappear completely or we don’t bother running at all.”

The fierce intensity in his eyes reminded me so much of his father that for a moment, fear flickered through me -- not of Chase, never of him, but of the genetic legacy he carried. Would my gentle boy who used to catch and release spiders from our bathroom eventually morph into the monster who’d sired him? Or was that intensity, channeled through love instead of hate, the very thing that might save us?

 

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.

 

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Teaser Tuesday: BEAST by Anne Kane #mcromance #romance #excerpt #comingsoon #rabtbooktours @annekane @changelingpress

 

(Riptide MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: June 13, 2025

 

Her ex wants her dead. I’ll make him wish he’d never been born.

 

Piper -- Discovering my ex was heir to the Las Vegas mafia totally freaked me out, but we parted as friends. Or so I thought. Now he wants me dead. I barely made it out of my house alive. I knew I couldn’t go back, so I called my father in Georgia for help. His solution? He sent a biker to bring me home. Imagine my surprise when the biker turned out to be my one-night stand from a few months back.

Beast -- A one-night stand with a sassy stripper in Las Vegas left me wanting more. I couldn’t get her out of my mind, so a few months later I went back to find her. That didn’t go so well. She’d disappeared, with no forwarding address. Fate’s way of telling me to forget her?

I was getting ready to head home to Georgia when Ace called and asked me to do a favor for Riptide’s FBI contact. His daughter was in San Diego, and some thugs were gunning for her. She needed protection and transportation. I was close enough to offer both in a hurry. Turns out Fate has a sense of humor. I’m not sure how happy my little stripper was when I showed up to rescue her.

 

Warning: This book contains violence, adult situations, bad language, and a very protective alpha male hero. It is part of the Riptide MC series but can be read as a standalone. There is no cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

 

 

EXCERPT

Having a stripper in Vegas as your mom, you grow up fast. And cynical. All the time I was growing up, my mom swore she had no idea who my father was, and I believed her. I’d seen the endlessly changing parade of bed partners while I was growing up. The list of possibilities for my father was probably longer than the line up for free booze at a frat house party. When I turned legal age, I did one of those DNA ancestry things, though, and I’d found him.

An FBI agent. How ironic is that?

Turns out he was a pretty good guy though. He didn’t bat an eye when I confronted him, just asked why he’d never heard of me before. I have a feeling he already knew the answer to that one.

I wasn’t a “Daddy’s little princess” kind of girl -- too late to go down that road. He wasn’t the doting father type either, so we got along okay. It helped that I lived in the West, and he lived in Georgia. We’d only met in person once, but we kept in touch, and just knowing I had one stable parent kind of made me feel almost normal. Almost.

Now it was time to find out just how much he cared. I tapped on his number in my contact list and waited for him to answer.

“Hello, Piper. What’s up?” He sounded relaxed. Given the time zone difference between coasts, he was probably settled in for the night and watching whatever sport was currently being broadcast.

“Hey, Dad. Funny thing happened when I got off work tonight. Got a minute to talk?”

“Sure.”

“Remember me telling you I’d been dating a guy named Drake, and it didn’t work out so well?”

“Yeah. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

I rolled my eyes. “No. That would be really bad. See, what I didn’t mention was the reason I bailed was because I found out Drake had mob connections.”

“Mafia? Are you serious?” He didn’t sound relaxed anymore. “Exactly what kind of connection are we talking about?”

I gulped. “He’s being groomed to take over his father’s operations. As in he’ll be the next don. They run most of the illegal activity in Vegas.”

Dead silence greeted my statement.

“Dad?”

“I’m here. Just trying to digest this. Ignoring the part where you were dating a mafia kingpin, you split with that guy months ago, so what happened tonight?”

“Someone tried to kill me. They said Drake ordered it.”

“That doesn’t make sense. He let you go and ignored you for months. Why would he suddenly want you dead? No offence, but my experience with those kinds of guys is they’re pretty casual about their affairs. Once they’re done, they’re done and they move on, especially if you were never involved in family activities.”

“Exactly what I thought we’d done. We said goodbye and both moved on. I even took a gig in San Diego and left the area so I’m nowhere near him. Haven’t seen him since the break-up. I have no idea what the hell is going on, or why he suddenly wants me dead.”

“Did he ever discuss his business dealings with you, or did you ever overhear anything you shouldn’t have?”

“No. I was clueless, until he suddenly decided to fess up. I had a feeling he wanted out. He knew I wouldn’t hang around once I found out.”

“Okay. We can figure that out later. Right now, we need to get you safe. Where are you?”

I looked around. “Hiding under a willow tree a couple of blocks from my house. Empty lot on the corner.”

“Right. I’m going to send someone to pick you up and bring you here. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll call you back with details.”

“Thanks.” I let out a sigh of relief. Glancing down at my phone, I realized it had been less than an hour since I’d left work. Amazing how quickly life could change.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. Dad. I hit accept.

“Good news. One of the groups we use for security happens to have an agent in your area. He should be there to pick you up in twenty minutes or so, depending on traffic. Just a heads up, he’s on a bike. You okay with that?”

“A bike, as in a motorcycle?”

“Yeah. He’s a big guy, lots of leather and tattoos. He looks a little rough, but he’s decent and I told him to get you a helmet. Luckily, he was out there on personal business and was just getting ready to head back here to his home base. There’s a hamburger joint two blocks east of your position. He’ll meet you there. I sent him a picture so he’d recognize you. He’ll ask if you like the ocean. You answer yes, but the riptides are dangerous. Got that?”

I knew the place he was talking about. I stopped in there occasionally for takeout. Despite the shabby exterior they made damn good hamburgers. This was starting to sound like a B-rated movie, though, with code phrases and clandestine meetings. “Are you serious? About the ocean question?”

“You need some way to recognize each other. Code phrases work just fine for that.”

“Okay. I got it. Yes, I like the ocean, but the riptides are dangerous.” I paused. “Dad?”

“Yeah, Piper?”

“I appreciate this. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m glad I can help.” He made a sound halfway between a chuckle and cough. “Not like I have a ton of kids running around, and we’re just getting to know each other.”

“Thanks anyway.” I stood up and brushed the dried grass and dirt off my backside.

“Call me when you’re safe with Beast.”

“Beast?” That didn’t sound comforting.

“Just what the guys call him. He looks like someone you’d cross the street to avoid. Might look scary if you don’t know him, so Beast. He’s an ex-SEAL and they tend to come with muscles.”

“Okay. A beast on a bike.” I tried to sound cheerful. “Talk to you soon.” Disconnecting the call, I slung my purse across my shoulder. I tucked the phone into my hip pocket so I’d feel it if it vibrated. It occurred to me that Drake had this number. Once I was safely out of California, I’d have to do something about that.

The burger joint was packed, but I managed to squeeze into a booth toward the back. I had a good view of the parking lot out the window, and anyone looking for me would have a hard time seeing me through the crowd at the front.

I ordered fries and a coke. Having someone take shots at me had killed my appetite but I needed to order something to justify taking up a table. I was pushing the food around on the plate when the sound of a motorcycle penetrated the chatter of the dinner time crowd.

The biker pulled his machine up to the front of the building and dismounted. Dad was right. That guy was huge. Tossing his helmet onto the seat, he raked his hands through his hair and grabbed a duffel bag from under a cargo net on the back seat before heading inside. The door hadn’t closed behind him before his gaze rested on me, pinning me in place.

Picking up a toothpick from the counter, he stuck it in his mouth like a cigar. A grumpy frown marred his rugged features as he strode between the tables to where I was sitting.

Shit. I knew that face. And that body as well, although there were a lot fewer clothes on it the last time I saw it.

And the last time I’d seen him, his name was Johnny, not Beast.

He slid into the seat across from me, his gaze pinning me in place. “So, how do you like the ocean, Piper?” he asked.

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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Teaser Tuesday: Kitten's Bunny by Wanda Violet O. #comingsoon #excerpt #erotica #bdsm #rabtbooktours @changelingpress

 

Contemporary BDSM Erotica

Date Published: June 6, 2025

 

 

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Daddy Dom BDSM Erotica short story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

 

I’ve never been happier in my life than I am since I’ve come to live with Max. Then I meet Kitten and my world changes again. She’s kind and sweet and, oh, so sensual.

I’m about to find out what it’s like to be Kitten’s Bunny.

EXCERPT

“There you are, Bunny!”

I had been enjoying the warm spring air wafting through the open window and seating a bunny tail butt plug into my ass when the door to the bedroom I shared with Max burst open. I was bent over at the waist adjusting the end of the tail while looking back in a three-way mirror set up specifically for this purpose. The plug had a curved silicone extension that fit between my cheeks so that the puffy tail sat at the base of my spine.

I grinned over my shoulder at the small woman. She had on a headband with cat ears and a long, furry cat tail that swished with the sway of her hips as she moved. Normally. Right now, the tail was trailing along behind her as she bounded toward me in her excitement. Like me, the ears and tail were all she was wearing. I barely got turned around before she threw herself at me. Kitten was very affectionate, once she got to know you.

I wasn’t too proud to admit the feel of Kitten’s lithe body pressed against mine was a bit of a turn on. Though I appreciated a beautiful body, whether man or woman, I’d never been particularly attracted to a woman before. But Kitten was special, and I was certainly susceptible to her charms. Probably because, since I’d been with Max, he’d kept me in a heightened state of arousal almost continually. And I enjoyed every fucking second of our play.

I returned her hug with a tight, happy hug of my own. “I’m almost ready. Do you know what’s going on?”

Kitten nipped my ear playfully. “Yep. Come on.”

I laughed at her lightheartedness. Kitten loved to play. Right now, she had what looked like a case of the zoomies. She’d most certainly been aptly named. We’d been fast friends almost from the moment we met. Had that been five months ago? Daddy Jacob had insisted on waiting to introduce me to Kitten until he was sure I wasn’t going to hurt her by leaving abruptly. He’d been right. Kitten loved with her whole heart, and I was honored to have found a place in her life. “Wait! I need my ears!”

Kitten huffed out a mock exasperated breath, but I saw her lips twitch. “So high maintenance. It’s a good thing you have me.” We giggled as she helped me with my bunny ears and gave my hair one last fluff. “Max will be so proud of you.” Practically bouncing on her toes, she gave me a huge smile as she moved around the room looking for… something. Another accessory for my hair? Different bunny ears? I was partial to the pink ones. In the end she didn’t change anything, only fussed over me. With every excited squeal, Kitten’s breasts jiggled enticingly. I knew she had a child, and maybe there were a few stretch marks on her tummy, but her body was tight and toned, her breasts small but firm and perfectly formed.

“Are we ready? I think we’re ready!” The smile on Kitten’s face was so beautiful she nearly took my breath. She was flushed with excitement, which fueled my own anticipation. Whatever was about to happen was something she was looking forward to in the extreme.

It wasn’t unusual for us to help each other get ready when one of our men decided to share us. Kitten often helped me pick out different tails and ears when my turn came to be the entertainment after one of Daddy Jacob’s meetings. We always had great fun.

We hurried down the long hall together, both of us giggling. I was hand in hand with Kitten as she took us to the grand staircase. Naked. Fun times! We skipped playfully down the stairs, laughing the whole way. I was becoming more and more aroused the longer I was in Kitten’s company. The woman simply oozed sex appeal, and I was not immune. I didn’t know the protocol for this kind of situation, so I’d feel much better once I was with Max again. Or at least had him give me the OK to do whatever.

Enzo stood at the bottom of the stairs, greeting us with a warm smile. He was not only in charge of security for all of us, but also Daddy Jacob’s oldest and most trusted friend. Kitten launched herself at Enzo with a squeal, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist in delight.

Enzo’s warm chuckle filled the massive formal entry hall. “Ah, little Kitten. You’re full of energy this evening, aren’t you?”

“I am, Enzo. Are you joining us later?” Kitten smiled up at him. Enzo’s affection for Kitten was obvious. Same as Kitten’s affection for Enzo was plain to see.

The big man gave her one hard squeeze before gently setting her on her feet. “Afraid not. I’m sure I’ll see you both soon though.” He gave me a wink as he bent to kiss Kitten on the lips. She giggled and wrapped her arms back around him so he could deepen the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth until Kitten was purring like, well, a Kitten.

“Enzo.” Daddy Jacob stepped out of his study and leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head. If I’d thought Daddy Jacob would be angry or jealous another man was kissing his wife, I’d have been wrong. Daddy Jacob grinned and shook his head as if Kitten’s antics amused him. “Would you be so kind as to allow me the use of my wife this evening?”

Enzo smiled down at Kitten with affection and not a small amount of lust. “Only if you let me have the privilege of her company later in the week when I’m not on duty.”

“You’re always on duty,” Daddy Jacob shot back, but his lips spread wider and his eyes were merry. “But I think we can work something out.”

 

About the Author

Welcome to Wanda Violet O.'s world of bedtime fantasy, where you'll find a variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play... she's got it all. Come take a look for yourself!

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Teaser Tuesday: Ky's Revenge by Mikala Ash #comingsoon #excerpt #scifi #postapocalyptic #rabtbooktours @ash_mikala @changelingpress

 

The Rebellious Slave 3

Post-Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Action Adventure Romance

To Be Published: May 30, 2025

 

 

Rowan teaches the art of love to a lusty novice, while Ky suffers at the hands of an old enemy.

The lusty adventure continues!

 

Slave girl Rowan attempts a daring escape from her mysterious kidnapper. She hopes to be reunited with Ky and find the Key that will release her from the bonds of slavery and let them love as equals. Rowan is found by Lopi, a virgin fisherman, and she gratefully teaches him the joy of sex.

Ky has sworn revenge against the bearded man who took Rowan from him. However, he’s been handed over to his old enemy, the evil Warlord Thorfin, who seeks Rowan for his own purposes. Will the conjoined twins, Pus and Tule, be able to help Ky escape with his life? And what of Chin Lau? Rowan’s fellow slave has accepted the wolf brand and is the personal bodyguard and lover of the beautiful war chief, Tamin Gutra. He soon discovers she demands much more than his satisfying skills in bed.

To unlock the secret of this strange medieval world that coexists with advanced technologies, Rowan must first survive and then be reunited with the love of her life.

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Mikala Ash

 

Ky’s head felt as if it was going to burst. It throbbed in time with the beating of a drum that seemed to be not two inches from his ears. This wasn’t his only torment. His wrists and ankles were cruelly knotted with thin twine that cut deep into his inflamed flesh. When he struggled, a wave of nausea overturned his consciousness. He dry-retched, which sent fresh stabs of lightning through his tortured brain.

He forced open his blood-encrusted eyes. The bizarre scene caused a moment of confused alarm. Everything was upside down. The pain emanating from his ankles was explained; he was hanging by his feet. He reasoned, after a few moments, that he was inside a vast tent, and against the walls the flaring torches cast dancing shadows of a parade of exotic animals and bizarre circus performers. Ky caught sight of Pustule, the ridiculously named two-headed dwarf. The cunning oddity was the loyal creature of Boss, the carnival’s owner. Laughter erupted from the audience who sat at long tables, amply supplied with wine bottles and ale mugs. Ky licked his dry lips.

What is this place? In brief disordered snatches he recalled his and Rowan’s attempted escape from the caravan, the fight with the bearded man, the taking of Rowan, the boss’s betrayal, and the arrival of the Skolls, the vicious marauders of the wastelands. He recalled that instead of just taking him, the Skolls had captured the whole caravan. After that the numerous beatings, too many to count, blended into one continuous thread of pain.

Nausea again threatened to take him out of his pain when a bucket of foul wastewater from the cook tent was emptied in his face. He coughed and spluttered as the stale liquid filled his nostrils.

Before him, only a few yards away, flanked by guards armed with spears, a naked gargantuan occupied an ivory throne. The big man pushed away the thin whore who’d been curled in his lap sucking his engorged prick. She slid to the floor gasping. Ky experienced a pang of recognition, but in his confused state he couldn’t put a name to her. Released from her immediate duty, she crawled away into the shadows.

The giant gave a hand signal, and the drumbeats ceased, as did the chattering of the assembled guests.

“He lives, does he?” he asked a thin, rat-faced man who stood by Ky.

“As you ordered, Captain,” the man replied.

Ky cursed the fiend who obviously revelled in inflicting pain with skills designed to take a living body to the brink of death and coax it back again.

“He hangs by his feet so as not to drown in his own blood.”

“Call me Lord Thorfin!”

“Lord Thorfin,” the man hastily corrected himself.

That some sort of promotion had occurred mattered little to Ky. It was the name that stabbed him in the heart.

Thorfin!

He hadn’t recognized the warlord from his dizzying position. He doubted he would have known him under normal circumstances. Thorfin had grown prodigiously fat during the dozen years that had passed since Ky had been on the losing side in the War of the Three Sovereigns. Filled with rage and grief, he’d stood with his father and brother while Thorfin personally walked among the ranks of prisoners choosing those who’d be sacrificed to Po. Ky had stared defiantly into the eyes of Thorfin, who laughed and chose his older brother, Sandor. Ky had rushed forward only to be beaten to the ground, his head held up by the hair so he could watch Sandor dragged to the crude block to have his body ripped asunder.

Ky had screamed every curse known to man till his voice failed. In the cells he’d watched helplessly as his father died of grief. Then, after a month-long trek, he’d been returned to Slavin Hold and pressed into service as a guard. At Slavin he’d started every day by swearing bloody revenge, an impotent gesture, as it turned out. Now the tyrant had him trussed up like a beast ready for slaughter.

Ky forced his mind to rise above his pain to concentrate on Thorfin’s words.

“I am bored with this,” Thorfin said. “Will he talk, Greeg?”

The torturer slapped Ky’s arse. “If he knows what’s good for him he will.”

“Then put him to the question.”

What question?

Greeg extracted an iron poker from the fire and waved it so close to Ky’s eyes it felt as if his tears would boil. “Where is the girl?”

Of course. This was about Rowan!

Rowan, the rebellious slave who he loved. Ky spat a wad of blood from his mouth. If he told Thorfin that Rowan had been taken by the bearded man, he might know who that mysterious fellow was and go after her. Did he really want Thorfin to get his hands on her? Even if he lived beyond this day, could he protect her?

Then, in a moment of clarity he realized that Boss, the corpulent owner of the carnival who had handed him over, would have already told Thorfin everything. There was no reason not to speak what he knew.

“The man with the beard,” he said his words barely audible.

Greeg struck him with an open hand. “Speak up!”

Ky repeated his answer.

“Yes, yes,” Thorfin said irritably. “I know of him. Who is he?”

“I don’t know. He never said his name.”

“No one in the town knew him either,” Greeg confirmed. “I asked them most pointedly.”

“You haven’t killed them all, have you?” Thorfin demanded.

Greeg chuckled. “Not yet, but they wish for it.”

“They must know something. There are more clues to a man’s identity than just his beard.” Though a beast in human form, and despite consuming a vast amount of wine, Ky knew Thorfin was not without intelligence.

“I will persist in my questioning, my Lord Thorfin.”

“I want answers.” Thorfin returned his gaze to Ky. “She means something to you, this slave, Rowan.”

 

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.

 

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Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Urban Fantasy

Date Published: May 2, 2025

 

 

A big cat and a woman without magic could just be the right combination.

 

Meela Durning swears she doesn’t belong in Eerie. She’s not magical. Never has been, but she’s the child of paranormals. When she’s forced to return to Eerie to sort out the problems from her past, she finds a big, fluffy cat. The animal lover in her has to make sure the feline gets home. He could be missing. Someone has to want him, right?

Aslan Maine has known from the moment he met Meela that she was destined to be his. He’s seen her in his dreams. When she picks him up to return him to his rightful home, he can’t hide his secret any longer. He’s no ordinary cat!

She can’t believe her eyes when the fluffball she rescued shifts into the sexiest man she’s ever seen. When he offers her forever, she’s got to decide if she deserves to be alone or to have a future with the handsome shifter.

 

If she can survive her past, she can have him. Right?

 

 

EXCERPT

“Christ, I’m tired.” Meela Durning stretched and cracked her back. She shook her head, then closed her laptop. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in particular. There wasn’t anyone there to hear her. Just as well. When she’d had someone there to listen, he hadn’t listened. Hadn’t wanted to be there, either.

She’d grown used to being alone.

Tonight, she didn’t want to be by herself. It wasn’t like she could poof a man into existence. She’d wanted to try that for ages, but with no magical abilities, a spell was out of the question. She supposed she could summon one, but that only worked in her dreams and she swore it had nothing to do with magic. Just her overly active imagination.

She shrugged, then stretched her legs before standing. The man of her dreams might only be in said dreams, but that didn’t matter. He couldn’t let her down that way. Didn’t have faults. He wanted to be there. Wanted to please her. Wanted to be with her.

Unlike her ex -- the rotten troll.

She sighed and pushed in her chair. She didn’t even have a fish. She’d wanted a cat, but the building manager didn’t permit animals that had fur. Ridiculous rules.

She checked that the apartment door was locked, then picked up her phone before switching off the lights. She padded into the bedroom. Once she tossed the phone onto the bed, she made her way into the bathroom. She stripped out of her shirt, and bra, then her jeans and panties, returning to the bedroom long enough to don her sleep shirt. She brushed her teeth, but her thoughts turned to the man of her dreams.

She paused, mid-brushing. Man of her dreams. That sounded so silly. The only time he’d ever appeared physically, she’d been asleep.

A vision of him formed in her mind. Tall, muscled, but not huge… thick dark-blond hair with just a bit of shag to it. Enough to remind her of a superhero, with his hair blowing in the breeze. Twinkling green eyes, a wicked smile that hinted at mischief, but he’d been a gentleman. A dusting of hair from his navel to below the belt.

She’d never seen his cock, but she’d felt it. Heat washed over her. She swore she’d felt his hands on her body, the way he’d touched her and kissed every inch of her. He took care of her. Treated her like a treasure. Like she had worth.

She knew damn well she had value. It’d taken her years to figure that out, but now that she knew, she wasn’t about to let anyone tell her otherwise. She refused to be a doormat again.

Meela finished in the bathroom and switched off the light before crawling between the sheets. Something in her bed vibrated. For a moment, she thought she’d left a toy from the night before. When a rectangle lit up beneath the blankets, she remembered -- her phone. She must’ve lost it under the blankets when she climbed into bed. She retrieved the irksome device and checked the notifications.

An email. Now what? She swiped to retrieve the message. Overdrawn.

“You have to be kidding me,” she muttered. She swiped to her banking app. Sure enough, the money she’d expected to be deposited there… wasn’t. Her ex-husband hadn’t bothered to pay alimony. Again.

She scrubbed one hand across her forehead, then checked her texts. The asshole hadn’t messaged her. Hadn’t bothered to let her know he’d be a bigger asshole by not paying. She did the math in her head. This was the sixth month in a row he hadn’t bothered to deposit the money. The fucker.

She switched back to her banking app and shifted money from her savings to the checking to cover her bills. Once satisfied everything would be paid out of her wages from the software company, she brought up the chat box to her lawyer.

Eerie, Ohio, wasn’t exactly her favorite place to go. She didn’t belong there. She had paranormal blood, but no magic. Couldn’t conjure, summon, wake the dead… wasn’t a shifter, vampire, necromancer, faerie… Nothing about her was extraordinary. She’d simply been the child of a conjurer and a celebrity psychic. All she had was her bloodline.

But if she wanted to meet with her lawyer, she’d have to go back to the place of her birth. She’d have to head back to Eerie. Would have to talk to Norm Slone, divorce lawyer gnome. His name had a distinctive ring to it. No one forgot him. Thankfully, he could be a junkyard dog in the courtroom, too.

She opened the chat box and sent him a message.

Need to meet with you. Tiernan isn’t paying alimony. Sixth month in a row. Tired of being shafted. Help?

She hit SEND, then darkened the phone and tossed it onto the side table. If Norm Slone had time for her, he’d let her know in the morning. Besides, she didn’t want to give her ex any extra space in her mind. He owned too much as it was. Some days, he lived there rent free. Those were the days she second-guessed divorcing him. She’d loved the troll once, hadn’t she? Thought they could make a future together, right? A woman with no magic and a troll could make things work, in theory. The more she considered her past, the faster she remembered the reason she’d left Tiernan. He’d only married her under the assumption she’d inherit money from her parents.

Wrong.

After the wedding, when he found out she was penniless, he’d walked out. He claimed he wasn’t interested in her any longer. He had to work late. He’d made friends with other people. Their lives were going in different directions. Other days, he simply didn’t speak to her.

He’d packed his belongings up in the middle of the night and walked out.

Her head ached. She’d lost a dozen years of her life to him. Years she could’ve been happy. Could’ve been single but making the best of her situation. Instead, she’d tried her damnedest to keep the marriage together. Tried to make herself loveable to him again.

What a waste. He wasn’t going to love her then or now… or ever. She had to stop living in the past and thinking about what wasn’t going to happen in order to focus on the future -- whatever future she had.

She switched off the light and snuggled in her blankets. She might not be living with anyone, but then again, she didn’t have to share the bed. Didn’t have to argue with anyone. Didn’t have to explain herself. But the loneliness overwhelmed her at times.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to forget the day, forget her situation for a little while. Forget her Ex. Time to dream. She loved her dreams. Her mysterious stranger showed up when she closed her eyes.

 

 

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.

 

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