The Camp Shifter Series by DJ Jennings #Paranormal #Romance #KU

 

The Camp Shifter Series by DJ Jennings is Now in KU!

Series Description:  This paranormal romantic comedy series features standalone stories set at Camp Shifter, a mandatory training facility where adults receive "The Letter" summoning them to learn shifter ways. After experiencing The Morph—the transformation that reveals their animal nature—they must master everything from controlling their shifter forms to navigating public nudity with confidence. Camp Shifter provides classes taught by experienced shifters and serves as a community where people from all walks of life must accept a reality fundamentally altered by their newfound status.

Throughout the series, Camp Shifter serves as the backdrop for fated mate romances featuring humor, heat, and heart. Special events like DarkNight create opportunities for connection in a community where transformation extends beyond the physical. With big misunderstandings, opposites-attract dynamics, and forced proximity bringing unlikely pairs together, these romantic comedies blend lighthearted fun with sensual content as characters learn that accepting their shifter identities and finding love often go hand in hand.

Titles:  Owl Be Bear for You, You Shook Me Howl Night Long, DarkNight of the Moon

Book Descriptions:

Owl Be Bear for You

Hot summer fun where you’ll change…in more ways than one.
Librarian Mara Scioto lives a nice, neat, orderly existence—except when she’s being attacked by uncontrolled male shifters who need to mate.
Pesky little detail, right?
Raised by a grandmother who hates all shifters, she has one wish: to make it past the age of twenty-five without experiencing The Morph that tells you you’re one of them.
And then the letter from Camp Shifter arrives with her name on it...
Orthopedic surgeon in training Jack Karsten is waiting to see if he’ll follow in his shifter brother’s footsteps. Being a shifter won’t be so bad, if that’s his destiny, but when he meets Mara, he realizes that fate and love don’t always align.
But love always wins.
It can be a bear of an ordeal sorting it all out, but if anyone can help, it’s the staff at Camp Shifter. While they’ll train Jack and Mara on the ways of shifter life, there’s one thing they can’t teach them:
How to get out of their own way and let love leave them changed.
Forever.

You Shook Me Howl Night Long

Eliot “Pole” Elianzo is a god in college football, and he knows it. Too bad he’s also a polar bear. The Morph happens on national television, right after a pro team picks him in the draft. It’s official–Pole is a shifter. And boy, is he livid. He can’t choose practice over his mandatory stay at Camp Shifter, but he sure can make camp a nightmare for everyone. Especially the hot ash blonde who’s teaching Undressed in Public 101 classes. Risa Devaneau can’t believe Pole’s in her class, in the first row, and very, very undressed. The former sportscaster and wolf shifter ran away from her testosterone-filled career for the quiet peace of Camp Shifter. Sure, teaching people how to be undressed in public isn’t exactly the most prestigious job, but it got her away from the city. From her overly controlling politician father. From her past. From Pole. And here he is, smirking at her, front and center. In his birthday suit.

DarkNight of the Moon

He lurks in shadows and mystery at Camp Shifter, coming out only during DarkNight, the wild, bacchanalian free-for-all where anything goes.

Anything.
No one has seen him in the daylight, no one knows where he lives, no one knows his name–and the shifter nicknamed DarkLover by women, DarkDude by men, will do anything to keep it that way.
Andie Cumbington has been waiting her whole life for The Letter. One of the few shifters who is ecstatic about her newfound status, the chestnut-haired ballerina bear shifter arrives for her month at Camp Shifter with unbridled excitement. On her first DarkNight, she finds wild passion and–to her surprise–so much more, with a stranger who touches her heart as much as he lights up her body.
And then he’s gone, back into the shadows, hidden.
Exactly where he wants to be.
Craving his touch with an insatiable desire, Andie can’t let go. She always wanted the roll in the hay, but she never imagined the passion would be so intense.
Fate drives her to find love.
Then a simple errand turns into mortal danger for Andie, and an impossible choice as DarkLover must overcome his biggest fear in order to save the woman he loves.
But will it be too late?

Amazon/KU Series Link:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PT45ZLW

Amazon/KU Link for Owl Be Bear for You ($4.99):  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B073ZMCJPX

Amazon/KU Link for You Shook Me Howl Night Long ($4.99):  https://www.amazon.com/Shook-Howl-Night-Long-Shifter/dp/1799035832/

Amazon/KU Link for DarkNight of the Moon ($4.99):  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1950172147

About the Author: 

The author of the Camp Shifter series, Darla Josephine “DJ” Jennings, is originally from Ohio but now lives in Massachusetts in a household full of people who drive her nuts, but she loves them anyhow. She fills her days with writing, business management, and the never-ending task of herding cats. Learn more about her in the New York Times bestselling novel, Random Acts of Crazy by Julia Kent, where she stars as one of the main characters. That’s right! DJ Jennings isn’t real, but Julia Kent sure is.

Website:  http://jkentauthor.com/

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/jkentauthor

Newsletter:  http://bit.ly/2PIBi9n

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/jkentauthor/

BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/dj-jennings

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17035252.D_J_Jennings

Amazon Author Page:  https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B07568TW8X

Excerpt: DarkNight of the Moon

Andie sat in her 9 a.m. class, Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, and tried really hard to be aware and present.

She failed.

Shira Prakash was a wise old woman, slow and incredibly bendy. As she stared at her teacher’s braid, the long, tight weave of it going all the way down past the woman’s butt crack, Andie wondered whether Shira was a snake or a sloth. She’d learned here at Camp Shifter that asking someone what kind of animal they were could be a landmine. Some people were excited to share the reality with you.

Others found the question to be an invasion of privacy.

Andie was an open book, so she didn’t understand the people who were more introverted and secretive about the kind of animal they became when nature took over. Weren’t they all here to learn about and explore the core self?

These thoughts filled her mind, all jumbled and spinning as she sat with her legs crossed, the backs of her hands pressing into her knees. If she were being graded for Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, she would definitely be failing the course.

“Imagine your core animal,” Shira said, her elegant fingers stretching long and splayed as she moved her arm to the right, like a large bird, wings and feathers spreading. “You are receiving their vibration into your root chakra.”

A fox shifter named Sally leaned over and whispered, “What’s a chakra?”

Andie’s stomach growled in response. “I don’t know, but it sounds pretty tasty.”

Giggling, Sally quickly righted herself and closed her eyes again, hands in proper meditation position as the teacher cocked one eyebrow but said nothing. The fox's red hair rested in long tendrils on her shoulders, her slightly slanted eyes beautiful when closed.

“If it is hard to focus,” Shira said, “consider labeling what you are experiencing inside, as you attempt to peel back layer after layer to access your inner shifter. No one is perfect when it comes to meditation. In fact, that is why we call it practice,” she continued.

Andie felt an enormous sense of relief at that. At least there was a reason why she couldn’t figure out how to do this. Calming her mind was as foreign to her as climbing Mount Everest.

“When you find yourself invaded by stray thoughts that take you away from accessing the emptiness that you seek, just give them a name: ‘That’s a thought.’ When you think about lunch as you’re trying to find your inner animal, think to yourself, ‘That’s a thought.’ When your mind drifts to a bill you forgot to pay, or a craving for coffee, or ‘Did I remember to take my medication this morning?’, just tell yourself, ‘Oh! That’s a thought’; ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Sally leaned over and whispered, “And if you can’t stop thinking about DarkLover, ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Andie covered her mouth, giggling hard. She had felt him outside, her pores tingling and alert, aware of him out there. How do you go through session after session of training, she wondered to herself, when the very person you want to meet most is there on the periphery? He was on the edges of the camp, she knew.

No one had told her this. It was more than instinct, even. She knew it, the way that she knew who she was. It was there, planted deep inside her by some force she didn’t understand. Nothing in her life had compared to this feeling, pure sensation and an intuitive knowing combined inside to create a strange power that connected her to him.

Was she imagining this? Was her obsession with DarkLover running amok, just some wish-fulfillment frenzy that she was indulging?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she met him.

 Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

 

The Life and Times of JIM BRIDGER by Bill Markley #Western #biography #Giveaway

US Western History/Jim Bridger, mountain man, fur trade, exploration, American Indians

Date Published: 08-08-2025

Publisher: Farcountry Press

The Life and Times of Jim Bridger, a new biography by Bill Markley, is a well-researched work that brings to life the story of Jim Bridger, the legendary mountain man, fur trapper, and explorer who played a key role in shaping the American West. From guiding scientific expeditions to pioneering vital emigrant routes like the Overland and Bridger Trails, Jim Bridger’s name is etched into the very landscape of the American frontier. Bridger’s contributions helped lead to the establishment of Yellowstone National Park, the first national park in the world. His life was filled with encounters with Native American tribes, fur traders, U.S. Army officers, and remarkable adventures across the wild West.

 

Reviews for The Life and Times of Jim Bridger

Bill Markley has established an enviable reputation as a western biographer. His excellent new biography of Jim Bridger will only augment his status. Crisply written and carefully researched this biography of the greatest of the mountain men will both captivate and inform readers for years to come. --Paul Hutton, author of The Undiscovered Country

 

Bill Markley has done it again with THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JIM BRIDGER. The mythic mountain man comes to life in Markley's biography and by the end you will be ready to go West and discover for yourself the West of Jim Bridger. --Stuart Rosebrook, editor-at-large, TRUE WEST magazine

 

Well researched and well told, Markley gives us a fresh look at one of the giants of the American West. I believe he has captured the man and his essence. —Bob Boze Bell, executive editor True West magazine

 

Bill Markley’s The Life and Times of Jim Bridger vividly captures the adventures of a legendary mountain man whose courage, ingenuity, and deep connection to the American West shaped a nation’s frontier. From fur trapping to guiding emigrants, Bridger’s story is a testament to resilience and cultural fluency, brought to life with meticulous research and engaging prose.  -- Jon Nelson, Board Director for the Museum of the Fur Trade, Chadron, Nebraska

 

When the tall, genial Virginian Jim Bridger ventured West as a “green” teenager in the early years of the fur trade, no one predicted that he would become known as the legendary “old man of the mountains."   Packing his life with enough adventure for at least ten mountain men, Bridger led beaver-trapping brigades, hunted buffalo, fought hostile Blackfeet, married a Shoshone woman, mapped trackless wilderness, guided the U.S. Army during Red Cloud’s War, and more.  Although illiterate, he spoke several European—and Indian—languages.  Did Bridger really leave the grizzly-mauled Hugh Glass to die alone?  Markley delves deep into his subject’s extraordinary life. Wonderfully illustrated with period maps and artwork, this book is for anyone who loves true tales of the raucous fur trading era of the early nineteenth century. Bridger once said, “Sir, the grace of God won’t carry a man through these prairies!  It takes powder and ball.”  And how.  –Nancy Plain, four-time Spur Award winner, past president of Western Writers of America.   

 

 

Excerpt

Final Thoughts

During my two-year research of Jim Bridger, my respect for him

has grown. He accepted all people, no matter who they were. Only when

they turned on him would he treat them as enemies. He tried to stay out of

fights, but if one was unavoidable, he was in the forefront.

It’s a shame—and our loss—that he didn’t learn to read and write. He was

intelligent, creating accurate maps from memory. He learned English, French,

Spanish, a variety of Indian languages, and was proficient in sign language.

After people read Shakespeare to him, he would quote passages from memory.

As to the Hugh Glass story, I believe Bridger was not the teenager who

deserted Glass. Historians have pointed to Bridger because of an 1839 article

that gave the young man’s last name as “Bridges,” based on old riverboat pilot

Joseph LaBarge’s recollection, and tradition had it on the Missouri that it was

Bridger. That’s it. When Alfred Jacob Miller sat around a mountaineer fire

and jotted down the Hugh Glass story during the 1837 rendezvous, the first

name of the person Glass confronted was Bill. If Bridger had been the young

man who deserted Glass, I believe other mountaineers would have ribbed him

about it.

As to Bridger selling Fort Bridger to the Mormons, I don’t believe he sold

it. He was an honest man, and to his dying day, he never said he sold it, continuing to

attempt to collect his rental payment from the federal government.

Bridger’s descriptions of the Yellowstone geothermal region to expedition

leaders and scientists led to its eventual exploration in 1871 by one of those scientists,

Ferdinand Hayden. The following year, Congress designated it the

world’s first national park.

Jim Bridger was loved by many people, from children to generals. He was

well liked by many tribes. Most of his adversaries respected him. He enjoyed

nothing better than to be out in nature, preferring to sleep under the stars than

in a tent. It would have been great fun to sit at a campfire and listen to him tell

of his exploits and tall tales. He was a man in love with the West.

Toward the end of his life, Jim Bridger said, “I wish I was back there among

the mountains again—you can see so much farther in that country.” 
 

About the Author

 

 Bill Markley, member of Western Writers of America and multiple winner of the Will Rogers Medallion award, has written eleven books including biographies and histories of Old West characters and events. He writes for True West and Wild West magazines and is a staff writer for Roundup magazine.

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Goodreads

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

WILLING CAPTIVE by Ashlynn Monroe #LGBTQ+ #BDSM #SciFi Romance

An LGBTQ+ BDSM Sci-Fi Romance

Date Published: June 19, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press 

"Humans are a legend. They don't exist."

When Lord Xev and his lover, Ra, leave their home in search of a woman to bond with them, they know exactly where to go. Risen Outpost is the most lawless place in the galaxy, and Pale Moon Auction House offers the finest sex slaves on the market. What the Zaronians don't expect is to find one of the legendary humans for sale to the highest bidder.

Kirin Ellison doesn't know what's happened to her. The shock of discovering aliens exist is bad enough, but realizing they plan to sell her as a sex slave is far worse. Kirin watches the other women preening and displaying their attributes, begging to belong to someone, with growing alarm. She wants her freedom. At least she thinks she does --- until one touch from Xev and Ra enslaves her in a far more binding way than a simple exchange of a currency could ever manage. She longs to feel everything the strange beings have to offer, but unless Xev is willing to make a sacrifice of his own, she dare not let him capture her heart.

 

 

Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2026 Ashlynn Monroe

Music reverberated through Kirin Ellison's Mazda as she drove down the lonely two lane country road. Humming along to the radio, she glanced up at the sky. The black velvet above was dotted with stars. In the city, she never really had the chance to see the night sky -- the view here was breathtaking.

No one was expecting her back in Chicago until tomorrow. She didn't need to rush. Her camera lay on the passenger seat beside her. Pulling over onto the gravel shoulder, she parked next to a fenced pasture.

The warning bell dinged as she carefully pulled out her beloved equipment. Wedding and graduation photography paid the bills, but she couldn't escape her true calling -- she felt drawn to beautiful panoramic landscapes.

Kirin looked up at the silky night sky and began to visualize the shots she would take. The rural beauty was exactly what she wanted. These prints would sell fast in the city.

Chuckling to herself, she shook off the feeling that she was being watched. "I've been in the city way too long," she muttered as she made sure the tripod was stable.

A sudden flash to her left made her straighten and turn. She gasped as three bluish-green lights hovered in the air.

"Oh my God!" Kirin's hands shook as she began frantically snapping pictures. Kirin focused intensely on the lights. She wished her camera had video capability. She expected the hovering lights to fly away, but they didn't. These prints were definitely going to be a moneymaker.

The lights suddenly catapulted forward and to her horror, they now hovered directly over her car. Her courage held her for only three more shots before her shaking hands managed to free the camera from the tripod. Snatching up her equipment, she rushed back to the car, but froze when a bright light illuminated the area around her. Her eyes widened as the car levitated off the ground. The pulsating yellow light was actually pulling the Mazda skyward.

Kirin bit her lip and stumbled backwards. She had no interest in finding out where her car was going. Her foot slipped on the dew-damp grass and she tumbled backward into the darkness. Pain radiated through her head and her teeth clicked as her jaws snapped together. She blinked up and the darkness vanished. She lay bathed in bright yellow light. Something trickled down her neck and she realized she was bleeding, but that was the least of her worries right now.

Blinking rapidly, Kirin tried to clear her vision, but the lights went in and out of focus. She felt her body lifting. "No," she moaned.

Unconsciousness claimed her.

When Kirin next opened her eyes, she blinked up at a bright light. She tried to swallow but something was down her throat. Soft plastic cradled her nose and mouth. She looked down her nose at the strange mask. The effort gave her an intense headache and she tried to groan, but the tube down her throat didn't allow the sound to come out. She lay in a warm cocoon, perfectly cradled in softness. To her horror, she realized she was naked. She tried to move, but she couldn't. The paralysis was surreal. Her vision was blurry and she blinked rapidly, but it didn't seem to help. She felt as if she were floating.

Vaguely, she wondered if she'd been drugged.

A dark shadow blocked the light to the left and she tried to focus on what -- or who -- it was. Her eyes widened and she tried to scream. Being immobile added a sharp bite to her terror. The creature was tall and blue. It had tentacles jutting out of its rather large head, and it didn't look happy. Coming closer, it made some sort of gibberish noise and ran its hand down her arm, then her hip and leg. She shuddered. Something moved in a blur to her left and she felt a quick stab of pain before her eyes fluttered closed and darkness dragged her back into oblivion.

* * *

"This trip has been long overdue, my friend.. The burden of politics wearies me," Lord Xev muttered. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

The male between his legs took his cock into his mouth and bobbed his head passionately up and down on Xev's shaft. Xev watched Ra's devotion through his long lashes. Long, soft blond hair brushed Xev's thighs. Eyes half closed, he stretched his arms across the back of the divan.

The crowd bustling about the tavern and the buzz of voices only made Ra's fellatio more erotic. His companion made a loud popping noise as he pulled his mouth away from Xev's erection. Ra's big blue eyes gazed up at him adoringly. Xev could tell he wanted to say something.

"You may speak," he graciously offered.

"You are right, my lord. I have felt the burden of hiding my affection for you. I lust for you, my lord. Every time I am in the room with you, my cock aches for your touch."

Xev smiled down at his lover. He cared deeply for Ra. Their friendship, and Ra's servitude, had grown into a comfortable pattern, but something was missing. They both agreed on that point. "I understand, my friend. The Order would never accept our bond. Here we are free, but you know I can never leave the Order, even to delight in the debauchery of the fringes. This is just a short trip. We will return."

The glimmer of hope died in Ra's beautiful eyes and he quickly lowered his head and kissed Xev's balls. When Ra glanced up, tears shimmered in his eyes. "I know your place, my lord, even as I know mine, but one can dream."

About the Author

Ashlynn Monroe is a busy working mom. She loves her kids and family. Her greatest joy is creating stories to entertain others, and she hopes they bring a little more romance into the world. She's been writing since her teens for her own enjoyment but decided in her thirties to share her imagination with readers. Ashlynn enjoys biking, camping, reading, video games, and filling her home and life with love. If she's not working or chasing children, you can find her daydreaming up her next tale of romance. 

Website

Goodreads

Facebook

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

Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15 

 

Pre-Order Today

CASH by Marteeka Karland #MCromance @ChangelingPress

Mc Romance 

Date Published: June 19, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

I’m losing the fight to protect my daughter from invisible monsters. Cash may be our only hope.

Eliza – My daughter Lily’s plagued with mysterious injuries. We’ve spent far too much time in the ER. Doctors push me away when I ask for answers. Insurance denies our claims. Then Child Services decides I’m the monster. I’m out of options -- until Cash steps between us and the people trying to tear us apart. He’s dangerous – a biker and an ex-con. He’s also the first person who believes me. And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.

Cash -- Prison taught me to keep my head down, not get attached. Then court-ordered community service puts me in a pediatric ward, where a terrified little girl with a pink cast asks me to sing her to sleep. Lily isn’t mine. Her mother, Eliza, isn’t my problem. Except the second I see the system closing in on them, I know better. Eliza isn’t hurting her daughter. She’s fighting for Lily with everything she has. But when no one else listens, I bring in Kiss of Death, Haven, and every weapon we have that doesn’t require blood on the floor. Yet the more I try to protect them, the harder it is to pretend I don’t want them both.

 

 

Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2026 Marteeka Karland

Cash

I returned to the pediatric ward two nights later, my mind still lingering on the small girl with the pink cast. The mop bucket rattled ahead of me as I pushed it down the corridor, the wheels squeaking against the polished floor. I had finished my assigned section early, giving me a few minutes to check on Lily. I told myself it was just curiosity, nothing more, but the memory of her tears had stuck with me through my shift at the bar last night and the following restless sleep. As I approached her room, I heard raised voices from inside, the sharp tone of an adult argument cutting through the usual hospital quiet.

I slowed my steps, not wanting to intrude on whatever was happening. The hospital had strict rules about patient privacy, and I was already walking a thin line by visiting a patient outside my cleaning duties. But when I recognized Lily’s small voice rising between the adult voices, I found myself moving forward again.

The door to room 416 stood partially open. I paused just outside, my hand resting on the door frame. Inside, two women faced off across Lily’s bed. One was clearly Lily’s mother, small and slight with the same delicate features as her daughter, though hers were drawn tight with exhaustion. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her brown hair was pulled back in a messy knot looking like it had been hastily arranged. Despite her obvious fatigue, her stance was defiant, her chin raised as she glared at the other woman.

The second woman wore a crisp pantsuit and carried a tablet she occasionally tapped. Her hair was styled in a severe bob, framing her face. She wore a lanyard with an ID badge reading “Department of Child Services” and “Mrs. Janet Winters.” My stomach dropped at the sight. I had seen enough of them at Haven to know the conversation couldn’t be good.

“I have told Dr. Samson repeatedly. Lily bruises easily,” the mother was saying, her voice tight with controlled frustration. “I’ve been begging for more tests for over a year. But insurance keeps denying the claims, and Dr. Samson says the symptoms aren’t severe enough to warrant specialist referrals.”

“Ms. Jans,” the social worker replied, her voice clinical and detached, “this is Lily’s fourth hospital visit in eight months. The pattern of injuries is concerning. These bruises” -- she gestured toward Lily with her pen --”are consistent with grab marks.”

“Because I have to grab her when she falls,” Lily’s mother -- Ms. Jans -- said, her voice cracking slightly. “She falls constantly. She trips over nothing. Her legs just give out sometimes. If I don’t grab her and she hits something, she could get hurt worse.” She rubbed a hand across her face. “I work two jobs. I can’t afford the tests Dr. Samson won’t order. I’ve researched online, I think she might have --”

“Self-diagnosis from Internet searches is hardly reliable,” the social worker cut in, writing something on her clipboard. “The fact remains Lily presents with multiple unexplained injuries.”

“They’re not unexplained,” Ms. Jans insisted, her small hands clenching into fists at her sides. “I’ve explained them every single time.”

I shifted my weight, drawing the attention of both women. My gaze moved past them to Lily, who lay quietly watching the adults argue over her. Her thin arm was still encased in the bright pink cast, but now I could see more clearly the pattern of bruises dotting her pale skin. They did look like fingerprints in places, but something about the way they clustered didn’t feel right to me. I’d seen plenty of abuse in my time, both as a kid and later when women showed up at Haven. This felt different.

When Lily spotted me, her whole face transformed. The wariness vanished, replaced by a smile that lit up her tired features. “Cash,” she said, her voice rising with excitement. “You came back. Will you sing to me again?”

The social worker’s head snapped toward me, her eyes narrowing as she took in my appearance. Her gaze lingered on my MC cut, the Kiss of Death patch prominently displayed on the leather. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked me up and down, taking in the tattoos visible on my neck and hands.

“Sing?” Ms. Jans asked, looking between her daughter and me with confusion.

“He has pictures all over his skin,” Lily informed her mother. “And he sang me to sleep when you had to go talk to the doctors. He has a pretty voice.”

The social worker’s stylus moved rapidly across her tablet, and I didn’t need to see what she was writing to know it wasn’t good.

“Ma’am,” I said, addressing the social worker and keeping my voice respectfully low, “I’m just the janitor. Part of the community service program.” I gestured to my volunteer badge. “The kid was crying alone in her room a couple nights back, so I sang her a lullaby until a nurse could come.”

Ms. Jans looked at me with a mix of gratitude and new wariness. The circles under her eyes looked even darker up close, and I noticed her hands were rough and reddened, the nails clipped short.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I had to speak with the doctor about her new medications. The nurses said they’d check on her, but --”

“Budget cuts mean they’re always short-staffed,” I finished for her, understanding all too well how systems failed the people who needed them most. “Probably thought she’d sleep through you being gone.” I glanced at the social worker. “Sounds like you got set up to fail. They make you leave your child to go talk to the doc then fail to stay with her.” I had no idea if I was right, but judging by the way the social worker flushed, I was pretty close.

“And you are?” she asked, her gaze flicking meaningfully to my cut again.

“Johnny Kingston,” I answered, deciding against offering my hand. “Everyone calls me Cash.”

“Mr. Kingston,” she said, emphasizing each syllable as she wrote my name down, “are you regularly alone with pediatric patients as part of your community service?”

The implication in her tone made my jaw clench, but I kept my expression neutral. Getting angry would only make things worse for Lily and her mother.

“No, ma’am,” I replied evenly. “I mop floors and restock supplies. The door was open, and hospital security monitors the entrance to all the pediatric rooms.” I pointed to where the camera angled across the hall to be able to see the entry of this room and the room next to it. “I stayed where the camera could see me at all times. Besides, I just couldn’t leave a crying kid alone. Not without making sure she hadn’t fallen or hurt herself in some way.”

Ms. Winters made another note, then turned back to Ms. Jans. “I’ll be submitting my report to the department today. Given the circumstances, we’ll be opening a full investigation. In the meantime, Lily will remain here under hospital supervision until we determine the next steps.”

The color drained from Ms. Jans’ face. “You can’t keep me away. She needs me here. She gets scared in hospitals.”

“Whether or when you can stay with the child will depend on the findings of our investigation,” Ms. Winters replied coolly. “If you have nothing to hide, you should welcome a thorough examination of the situation.”

I watched as Ms. Jans seemed to shrink before my eyes, the fight visibly draining from her small frame. I recognized the look too well. She knew her guilt had already been decided. Likely because investigating deeper took effort from an overworked system.

“Mommy?” Lily’s voice trembled slightly. “Are we going home soon?”

“Yes, baby,” Ms. Jans said, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her uncertainty. “As soon as the doctors say it’s OK.”

Ms. Winters tucked her tablet under her arm and moved toward the door where I still stood. As she passed, she paused and lowered her voice.

“Mr. Kingston, I suggest you stick to your assigned duties. Your association” -- her eyes flicked to my cut again --”could complicate matters for everyone involved.”

With her parting shot, Ms. Winters brushed past me into the corridor, leaving the room several degrees colder in her wake.

Ms. Winters left the door open. The tension in the room thickened as Ms. Jans turned toward me with the wariness of a cornered animal. She shifted to place herself more firmly between me and her daughter. Her eyes, the same shade of blue as Lily’s but hardened by worry, assessed me from head to toe. The woman at Haven often gave men in the club they met for the first time the same look.

“I should go,” I said, taking a step back toward the door. The last thing this woman needed was another perceived threat in her life.

“No, stay,” Lily called out, her small voice surprisingly authoritative for someone so tiny. “I want to show Mommy how you sing.”

Ms. Jans’ gaze flickered between her daughter and me, her posture rigid, hands still clenched at her sides. The protective instinct radiating from her was almost tangible, a force field surrounding her child.

“Lily, Mr. Kingston probably needs to get back to work,” she said carefully, her tone gentle with her daughter but her eyes still fixed warily on me.

“Cash,” I corrected automatically. “Everyone calls me Cash.”

“He made me feel better when you were gone, Mommy,” Lily continued, ignoring her mother’s attempt to dismiss me. “I was crying because I missed you, and he sang to me like you do. He has a pretty voice, like the radio. He’s my new friend.”

Ms. Jans looked at her daughter, then back at me, reassessing. She nodded slowly, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For being kind to Lily.”

I shuffled my feet, uncomfortable with the gratitude. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“No,” she said with surprising firmness. “They wouldn’t have. Most people don’t want to get involved.” She ducked her head. “Or just don’t care.”

Before I could respond, Ms. Winters stepped back into the room, her tablet still clutched to her chest like a shield. Her eyes darted between Ms. Jans and me, clearly surprised to find me still there.

 

About the Author

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

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

 

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

 

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

 Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15 

Pre-Order Today

SNOW PLACE LIKE HOME by Christine Husom #Mystery #Giveaway

Snow Globe Shop Mystery, Book 5

Traditional Mystery/Amateur Sleuth, Small Town Fiction, Snow Globe Shop, Minnesota Mystery

Date Published: 01-09-2026

The past collides with the present for Camryn Brooks on one cold winter evening. A man’s body is found in the passenger seat of a car, parked in her driveway. Camryn is chilled to the bone when she learns his identity: her old nemesis, the one whose actions ruined her career and tarnished her stellar reputation in Washington D.C.

 

Early Reviews

“Camryn Brooks soon discovers, like snowflakes, no two suspects are alike . . . a captivating cozy read.” Mary Seifert

“A cozy snow day read with wonderful characters and intriguing clues to a twisty mystery.” Alicia Kozak

“It pulls you right in. An ideal cozy mystery with just enough police procedural to keep you hooked.” Timya Owens

"So many twists and turns, it leaves you thinking, ‘There's snow place like home!'" Michelle Hess

“Mystery readers will appreciate the subtle clues sprinkled throughout and an unexpected twist at the end. A great read from a great author.” Natalie Fowler

“Set against a frigid Minnesota winter, Snow Place Like Home shows that friendship and forgiveness can go a long way in chasing the chill of murder away.” Thekla Madsen

Excerpt

I yawned on my way to the living room, stretched out on the couch, pulled a comforter over my body, and opened a book I’d been reading. I was involved in the novel’s complex plot when my cell phone buzzed. I reached over and plucked it from the coffee table. My best friend Alice “Pinky” Nelson’s name appeared on the screen.

I smiled and pushed the accept button. “Hey, Pink—”

She cut me off. “Ahhhh. Cami, you need to come out here. Now.” She spoke with a hushed intensity. Was she hurt, in trouble?

My heart sank as I dropped the book, threw back the comforter, and jumped off the couch. “Come out where? Where are you, Pinky?”

“Kitchen . . . window. . . yours. . . look . . . out.” It took me a second to process her words, comprehend what she meant. She was in my backyard? Had she tripped and fallen?

I crossed the ten feet in a flash, slid my feet into boots by the back entry, cast all apprehension aside, and pushed open the door. The early evening sky was cloaked in darkness, and with the help of an alley’s street lamp, I spotted a vehicle I didn’t recognize parked by my garage. What in the world?

Pinky’s car sat next to it. I flipped on the outside house light and saw Pinky sitting in her car. When I went down the steps and moved toward her, she jumped out from her driver’s seat and pointed at the other vehicle. “I think he might be dead.”

My heart sank even lower as I glanced at a bulky form in the other vehicle’s passenger seat. I was unable to move, frozen to my spot on the snow-covered lawn. Pinky closed the gap between us and threw her arms around me. We turned our heads in sync toward the vehicle occupied by an unknown—dead or alive–person.

About the Author

Christine Husom is a bestselling author from Buffalo. She writes the Winnebago County Mysteries and the Snow Globe Shop Mysteries. Christine has stories in six anthologies, wrote a collaborative novel with eight other authors, and co-edited A Festival of Crime for Nodin Press. She trained with the St. Paul Police Department and served with the Wright County Sheriff's Office. She's a member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime, active with the Twin Cities chapter. She loves meeting readers at events.

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram

Purchase Links

Amazon

Draft2Digital