Monday, May 29, 2023
Tuesday, May 23, 2023
(Savage Raptors MC)
Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Action
Date Published: May 26, 2023
Solena -- At the age of fifteen, my parents forced me to give my baby up for adoption. I never got to see his little face or hold him. All these years later, it still hurts -- so much that one night I decide to dull the pain with alcohol and sex. There’s only one man I want, but the President of the Savage Raptors MC might be more than I can handle. I’ve had a crush on him for a while now. He says he can only offer one night. I want more. I want it all.
Atilla -- Lost my woman seventeen years ago. Thought I’d lost my daughter too… until she showed up on my doorstep. Now I have a pregnant teen living with me, and a woman who wants more than I’m able to give her. Solena is far too young for me. Hell, she’s barely older than my daughter. So why is keeping my distance so damn difficult? Is it really okay to fall in love again?
WARNING: Atilla has a guaranteed happily ever after, no cheating, and no cliffhanger. There are subjects some readers may find difficult to read. Recommended for readers 18+ due to adult content.
I didn’t know why I was here. This wasn’t my scene. The music was too loud, the women too wild, and the smoke nearly choked me. So why the hell hadn’t I turned around and gone home? The man at the end of the bar was the only reason I hadn’t run for the hills.
I’d seen him around town. In fact, he often came to the café where his daughter worked. The pregnant teen was working on her GED and waiting tables. I’d once been in her shoes, so I could sympathize. Except, I didn’t get to keep my baby. I’d been fifteen when my boyfriend didn’t take no for an answer. The result had been a little boy. One I’d never even gotten to hold. My parents had told the doctor to take him away before I even got a good look, and I had no idea where he was now.
I’d tried to find out, but I had had no luck. The place my parents supposedly used for the adoption had never existed. My stomach churned every time I thought about it. What had happened to my little boy? Was he okay? Did a loving family get him? Today he was especially on my mind, since it was his birthday. Which was the second reason I’d come here. I’d wanted a distraction so I wouldn’t think about him. Obviously, it wasn’t working.
I took a swallow of the cocktail I’d ordered and tried to get the courage to speak to the President of the Savage Raptors. He’d always seemed nice when he’d stopped by to visit Casey. We’d exchanged a few words here and there. Every time I got close to him, my heart raced, and I fought the urge to reach out my hand and touch him. Something about him called to me. I’d never been the type to go for bad boys or rough men. Atilla looked like both, and yet, I’d seen how gentle he was with Casey. Perhaps it was that side of him I yearned for.
More than once, I’d gone to sleep hugging my pillow, wondering what it would be like to have Atilla lying next to me. I didn’t know what I found so fascinating about him. I knew people would say he was too old for me. Their opinions didn’t matter. I’d never been so drawn to someone before, and I found him to be the sexiest man in town. Possibly in the entire world.
“You going to keep staring at him or go make a move?” someone asked from beside me. I startled and glanced in the man’s direction. Spade was on his leather cut, along with Vice President.
“Was I being that obvious?” I asked. Should I wipe my chin? Had I been drooling over the man? Wouldn’t be the first time. One of my co-workers once threw a napkin at me after Atilla left the café. I’d literally been salivating over him like a dog after a bone.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure you’ve seen him wave off every woman who approached so far. I have a feeling he won’t turn you away. You’re different from the other women here. I can’t quite figure out why you came to a party at the clubhouse. You don’t seem like the sort to do this kind of thing.”
“I’m not. It’s my first time doing anything like this, and I’m extremely nervous.”
Spade smiled faintly. “You came for him, didn’t you?”
I nodded. I couldn’t deny it. The alcohol in my system hadn’t been enough to give me the courage to go up to him. I wasn’t sure anything could help me. What was I expecting from this, anyway? I wasn’t the one-night-stand type, and I didn’t think the man had come here to find a girlfriend. When I’d thought about getting a drink and possibly getting closer to Atilla, my brain hadn’t gone as far as the next step.
I yearned to speak with him. Get closer to him. If he kissed me, I might die from both pleasure and a shock to my system. In all this time, I’d never desired anyone. With Atilla, I found myself watching him whenever he was nearby, and wanting nothing more than to cuddle up to him. I couldn’t help but think if a man like him were part of my life, things would be different. It wouldn’t change my financial issues, but having someone to lean on, to give me their support and a little affection would have meant the world to me. Not just anyone… him. It had to be Atilla or no one.
Truth be told, I hadn’t slept with anyone since that one time. Then again, I didn’t consider what my boyfriend had done to me to be considered sex. He’d raped me. I knew it. He knew it. Everyone else thought I’d given consent, then changed my mind after the fact and made a fuss over nothing. Even my parents hadn’t believed me.
“Maybe I should just leave,” I said.
“Or you could follow me.” He snatched up my glass, and I hurried after him, keeping an eye on the open beverage. I knew nothing about these men, or what they were capable of. He wouldn’t put something in it, would he? I chased him down, only to come to a halt next to Atilla. Spade set my glass on the bar beside Atilla’s beer, then motioned to the empty stool. “Sit. Talk. But stop staring at him like a creeper.”
My cheeks warmed, and I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. Atilla’s lips kicked up on one corner and I saw the amusement in his eyes. I sat down and took another swallow of my drink. Then drained the glass. Atilla motioned to the guy behind the bar and before I knew it, I had a fresh drink sitting in front of me.
“You’re Solena, right?” he asked.
He remembered my name? It pleased me more than it should have. It wasn’t like he said I was special or anything. Just because he knew who I was didn’t mean anything. For all I knew, he remembered every person he ever met.
“Yeah. I work with Casey at the café.” Way to state the obvious, idiot.
“So, why did you come here?” Atilla asked.
“To see you.” I winced. I hadn’t meant to blurt it out. It seemed the alcohol was affecting me more than I’d realized.
“That right?” He grinned. “And what were you hoping to gain from it?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
He eyed me up and down. “Well, you’re showing off more than you usually do, but you’re still overdressed for a place like this.”
I looked around the room and noticed most of the women were naked already. And the things they were doing… I quickly turned my head. It felt like my face was on fire, and I knew I could never be like those women. Not that I condemned them for being so free. It just wasn’t something I could ever do. I had stretch marks from my pregnancy, and a little extra around the middle. I’d be too embarrassed to strip naked in front of everyone.
“Come on. I’m getting a fucking headache. Grab your drink.” Atilla stood, picking up his beer.
I picked my cocktail up and followed him toward the back of the building. He entered a door at the end of the hall and flipped on the lights. It looked like a boardroom. Well, a rustic version of one. The wood table looked sturdy. He pulled out one of the leather chairs and motioned for me to sit.
“Is it okay for me to set my glass down?” I asked.
He snorted. “Not going to hurt anything.”
With the door closed, it was far quieter than it had been in the main room. The fact we were alone made butterflies riot in my stomach. I didn’t know why he’d brought me in here. Did he expect something?
Author’s Instagram, Facebook and TikTok: @harleywylde
Publisher on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok: @changelingpress
Monday, May 22, 2023
Date Published: 03-06-2023
Publisher: Alien Vision
20 years in the future, humanity has been decimated by climate change and waves of fatal plagues released by Islamic terrorists.
In this new world, Special Operative Mary Carpenter of the Commonwealth of Independent States takes on deadly opponents, including white supremacists, cells of the Everlasting Caliphate, and an international organization of smugglers called Hammerhead plotting to dominate the planet with an all-powerful fear gas.
Join Mary Carpenter in four fast-paced, futuristic adventures that might be in tomorrow's headlines-
About the Author
Dr. Wesley Britton is the author of four non-fiction books, Spy Television (2003), Beyond Bond: Spies in Fiction and Film (2005), Onscreen and Undercover: The Ultimate Book of Movie Espionage (2006), and The Encyclopedia of TV Spies (2009).
Starting in fall 2015, his science fiction/ mystery/ espionage series, The Beta-Earth Chronicles debuted with the ground-breaking The Blind Alien. Throughout 2016 to 2019, eight sequels followed including Return to Alpha, Wesley's first stand alone novel. Alpha Tales 2044 was the first of three collections of Beta-Earth short stories.
Britton earned his doctorate in American Literature at the University of North Texas in 1990. From 2007 to 2015, he was co-host of online radio's "Dave White Presents" broadcast over KSAV.org. For DWP, Wesley contributed interviews with authors, musicians, actors, and many entertainment insiders. In 2022, Wes picked up from where he left off with his own “Flashback, another interview show broadcast over KSAV.org and now also archived at his Remember When podcast page.
Wesley taught English at Harrisburg Area Community College until his retirement in 2016. Wes is blind due to the progressive genetic disease, retiniteous pigmentosa. Wesley served on the Board of Directors for Vision Resources of Central Pennsylvania for 14 years. He has been writing book reviews for sites like BlogCritics.org and BookPleasures.com for nearly 30 years. Wes and Grace and their menagerie live in Harrisburg, PA.
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Monday, May 15, 2023
This post is part of a virtual book tour to reveal the cover of REFLECTIONS ON THE BOULEVARD, the second book in the Reflections of Michael Trilogy, organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Enter the Rafflecopter for a chance to win a $10 Amazon/BN GC or an autographed copy of the book. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Michael's story continues from "A Reservoir Man" (2022) where we find him teaching at a university ready to retire. He unexpectedly meets a young man named Ron who becomes his protégé and journeys with him in a haphazard adventure throughout America and Europe. In Michael's final journey in life, each twist and turn of the road brings unexpected adventures. The journey taken is one of joy, friendship, and discovery.
About the Author
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Tuesday, May 9, 2023
Iron Tzars MC, Book 4
Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense
Date Published: May 12, 2023
Bellarose -- My drive to my new job didn’t go as planned. Me and my “photographic memory” got lost, ending up on a private road in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana. Worse, I got a flat. And it was getting dark. When a dangerous, sexy biker stops to help, I’m not sure if I’m fortunate or not. Double that when I find myself mashed against said dangerous, sexy biker with him kissing me like he wants to devour me. Then things get really weird.
Atlas -- I’m in so much trouble. Not only in the girl in my care the most enchanting woman I’ve ever encountered, she’s the daughter of one of the richest men in the world who happens to also be one third of the Shadow Demons. Which means, that kiss I stole might have signed my death warrant. Every instinct I have is telling me I need to call in my brothers to get her out and end the operation I’ve been deeply embedded in for months. But my little hellion has other ideas. I just hope we haven’t waited too long. If I have, we’re both dead.
WARNING: Graphic violence, adult situations, and references to human trafficking and domestic abuse that may be triggers for some readers. Happy ending and, as always, no cheating.
Copyright ©2023 Marteeka Karland
What a fucking mess. This fucking club in Terre Haute was rotten to the fucking core. I knew enough about it to make it implode with all the secret deals going on inside, but I hadn’t been given the go ahead from Sting, our president. Iron Tzars was an old MC, dating back to World War II. Back then, they’d been off-the-radar Nazi hunters. Meaning, they killed any they found and didn’t ask permission from anyone to do it. Now we hunt down pedophiles and human trafficking rings. Occasionally we infiltrate domestic terrorist organizations, but most of those are on the government radar, and we let the FBI and ATF do their thing. This bunch, however…
They were as sadistic a bunch as I’d ever seen. Not only did they have their hands into the obligatory guns and drugs, the women and girls they took weren’t trafficked. Oh no. They kept them. Used them. It had put me in a tenuous position because I couldn’t keep my cover at the expense of innocents. With the help of my brothers at Iron Tzars, I’d managed to pull all of the underaged girls out -- there weren’t many, thank God. There were two other women still in the compound. One was happy to be there. Said so herself as she took one man after another with a smile on her face. The other one… wasn’t in good enough shape to express her wishes.
That had been two months ago. Nothing had changed except I’d gotten the leader of this bunch to leave the unwilling woman alone. It wouldn’t last long, though. The willing woman was fast becoming an unwilling woman. Which meant I’d run out of time.
I drove down the road back to the compound. The bike I was on was an older chopper, but it was still a Harley, if heavily customized. It wasn’t my own bike, but I tried to still treat it with respect. The meeting I’d just had, the plans being put into action, had me on the extreme edge. Which was likely why I nearly missed the woman crouched on her knees beside a new-model Ford on the side of the road.
I swerved, and I thought I heard her scream. Pulling over to the side of the road, I looked back over my shoulder. She was flat on her ass, gasping for breath. When she glanced in my direction, she scrambled to her feet and snagged the tire iron next to the car, holding it like a baseball bat.
With a scowl, I turned the bike around and drove the hundred feet or so back to her car before stopping and shutting it off.
“Did I hit you?” Despite my worries, I never wanted to hurt an innocent. The mere fact I hadn’t seen her until I was right on top of her showed how distracted I’d been. A mistake like that could get me killed in this fucking club.
“I -- I…”
“Come on, girl! Are you hurt?” I snarled the question like a demand. Which it was. She took a step backward and rounded the back of the vehicle, putting the car between me and her.
“Don’t come any closer! I know how to use this!”
I couldn’t help but snort. “That thing probably weighs more than you do. Now, tell me if I hit you with the bike, li’l bit.”
She shook her head slightly. “No.”
I glanced at the driver’s-side rear tire. Sure enough, it was flat. “Do you need help?” Again, she shook her head but didn’t relax one bit. I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my beard. I didn’t need this. Not now. “Look. We got off on the wrong foot. I shouldn’t have snarled at you. I didn’t think I’d hit you, but even if I’d clipped you, you could have been hurt. It scared me as much as I scared you. Now. Are you sure you’re OK?” I tried to soften my tone when it wasn’t my nature. Women usually looked at my size, tats, beard, and muscles and ran straight into my arms, begging for a hard fucking. I had no interest in any woman who didn’t.
I barked out a laugh. “I hate it when women do that, girl. You’re not fine. I scared you to death.”
“It’s all right. You said it scared you too.” Her voice was soft and lyrical, wrapping around my insides like silken ties. What the fuck was wrong with me? I wasn’t hard up for female companionship. In fact, until I’d been planted in this fucking club, I’d had a different woman practically every night. More than one sometimes. Now, a little bit of timid innocence was burrowing inside me within a few seconds? Fuck…
“Not the point.” I raised my open hands in a non-threatening gesture. “At least let me change your tire. Can I come closer?”
Finally, she lowered the tire iron slowly. “I suppose so. If you’re sure you don’t mind.” She was so small I had doubts she could hold the damned thing for much longer anyway.
“I don’t mind at all. It’s the least I can do for nearly running you over. Besides, I don’t leave women alone to fend for themselves. No matter how much they don’t trust me.” I’d meant the last to be a small joke. To lighten the mood. Because the fear on her face in the fading light hit me viscerally. I didn’t like her thinking I’d hurt her or meant her ill will. That was the last thing I wanted after what I’d been through the last few months.
“I appreciate the help.”
I knelt by the car, positioning the jack properly before inserting the jack handle and cranking to raise the car. “What are you doing on this road? It’s pretty out of the way. Not many folks live around here.” Because the club I was currently embedded in kept everyone out of their territory through terror and destruction.
“I got turned around,” she said as she squatted beside me, holding the lug wrench at the ready. “I realized I was in the wrong place when the road went from four lanes to two. I don’t remember passing another road, but I might have missed it.”
“Where you headed?”
About the Author
Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter: @changelingpress
The Blades Of Sheorae, Book 1
Date Published: April 2023
Her fate is to fight. Hes sick of seeing death. When their potent chemistry ignites a powerful alliance, will they risk love in the face of peril?
If you like slow-burn relationships, intriguing magic, and engrossing mystical settings, then you’ll adore Tyger Price’s thrilling adventure.
“You know, he called me a rogue.”
Adianna gave him a questioning look.
The healer tapped his temple. “One of the quirks of being a healer.” He motioned to where the pygmy had retreated. “I can hear dragon talk. Apparently even of types I have never seen before.”
Adianna nodded. They walked in silence for a short way. Then she glanced sideways at him. “And are you?”
The healer’s brow furrowed as he came to a stop. “Am I what?”
Adianna looked askance at him, with a twinkle in her eye, trying to hide a smile, “A rogue?”
He chuckled, glancing at the ground at nothing in particular. Then he looked up innocently. “No, ma’am.”
She arched an eyebrow at him.
His smile widened. “At least not today.”
About the Author
Tyger Price, a homeschooling author/mother of ten, writes steamy-clean YA Fantasy – letting joy lead.
She just can’t bring herself to grow up; she just won’t do it! Being naturally drawn to children, she hopes people aren’t offended if she talks to their kids before speaking with them. She doesn’t mean it as a slight. She just can’t help it. She considers herself a “recovering addict” where babies are concerned and with ten children of her own, it is no wonder.
Being a native of the land of dreams and imagination, she strives to fill her life with joy while checking things off her ‘apoca-list.’ She loves tigers and butterflies and specializes in steamy-clean romances that make your knees quiver. Still, she goes where the joy and the story leads, delving into fantasy, mystery and adventure with expert precision.
Homeschooling a gaggle of kids keeps her reaching for her notebook or camera – writing down funny things they say and recording their many zany adventures. If there are quiet moments, she enjoys cuddles, sunshine and the scent of vanilla.
Friday, May 5, 2023
Date Published: 02-10-2023
Publisher: Open Books
Big things often have small beginnings.
As National Security Adviser to the President of the United States, Jane Stewart shepherds an act through congress to subsidize manufacturing of silicon chips on American soil.
Argon Zhi, an executive at one of the world’s best semiconductor foundries, accepts the responsibility to craft a plan for ensuring the competitiveness of Taiwan's technology companies and ensure the continued independence of his country.
Cedric Dyson's job as a Failure Analysis engineer is to figure out why some chips do not work the way they are supposed to. When he notices a pattern among the failing chips sent to his FA lab, he uncovers a shocking truth.
Jane, Argon and Cedric, each operating within their professional domains, make a series of decisions that lead to an international blame game which could escalate into an open conflict between the world’s powers.
Will a new silicon chip factory subsidized by the US government, an act of sabotage compromising a multi-billion dollar fab, and a Failure Analysis expert on the case lead the world to a brink of WWIII?
About the Author
Riko Radojcic was born in poor post-war Yugoslavia but enjoyed a very happy and secure early childhood there. When he was twelve his father took a job with the UN World Health Organization and Riko spent his teen years in East Pakistan (now Bangladesh), Nigeria, Kenya and Tanzania, observing the demise of the colonial Raj as well as some harsh Third World realities. He completed high school in Swiss private schools -- a polar opposite of the Third World -- which gave him a peek into the lives of the one-percenters. He then moved to Manchester, UK, where he witnessed the bleak circumstances of the working class in the heart of industrial England.
After working in the UK for several years, Riko immigrated to the US, settling in San Diego. There he enjoyed a rewarding and a very stimulating career in the semiconductor industry, working in a variety of technical, managerial and business development roles. His professional life exposed him not only to the amazing wonders of silicon chip technology, but also gave him an opportunity to travel internationally and to interact with smart and talented people from very diverse backgrounds. After 35 plus years in the world of high tech and engineering management, Riko is now devoting his full energies to writing as he tries to bring to life the magic of technology, the realities of the high-tech industry, and some of his diverse life experiences through storytelling.
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Tuesday, May 2, 2023
Dark Fantasy, LGBTQ, Paranormal Romance
Date Published: May 5, 2023
War is upon them -- armies are clashing at their doorstep. Ulvissar’s heat is becoming uncontrollable, and tension between him and Nithe is higher than ever before.
With his Dragon Lord and her new mate leading his warriors, will Ulvissar be able to destroy those who would betray them, and will Nithe be strong enough to claim both the title of Dragon Master and his Ulvissar? How can anyone withstand the wrath of an angry omega dragon?
Publisher's Warning: How Not To Date a Dragon Master contains scenes of graphic violence and adult kink with blood play that may be triggers for some readers.
Copyright ©2023 Stephanie Burke
The wind blew bitter cold on the overcast early morning when Prince Ranid the Bold and his army rolled into town, and it matched the attitude of the people. The few men who were left in the ranks watched the bedraggled and exhausted inhabitants stagger toward their town’s entrance, while the sounds of their war horses’ shoes loudly striking the dirt-covered cobblestones encouraged a lone hound to throw back its head and howl mournfully at the still present moon.
The few lights glowed enough to illuminate the remains of a once prosperous town now fallen into ruin. A lone, sickly-looking goat bleated as it wandered through, its dented bell clanking miserably in the night air while a lone owl hooted in the distance.
The place smelled of neglect and misuse. Most of the buildings that surrounded the courtyard and what looked to be the center of town appeared derelict, missing windows, wood siding sliding off of their sides, paint so old and weatherworn that it looked like it hadn’t been refreshed in years.
Prince Ranid the Bold, on his once proud white steed, stood up in the stirrups and declared for all to hear, “What a fucking dump.”
“Well, fuck you too, asshole!” a drunk leaning on a pole outside of the town’s only tavern called out. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”
That gave the whole army pause before a tall, black-haired, green-eyed man’s laugh barked out, startling the few who wore his bright red colors before they began to chuckle as well.
“What?” The green-eyed Prince Colton of Rinastas called to the other disgusted prince’s soldiers. “Out here with no resources but what little nature has left, you expected to find a lavish palace fit for your royal ass?” He shook his head, amusement plain in every line of his body. “This is war, boy. No one is going to be around to hold your hand or wipe Your Highness’s backside for you. The people who live in this area make do with what they have.”
“And who do these people hold loyalty to?” Prince Ranid demanded, settling back into his saddle, his face slightly red because yes, he expected some sort of accommodation for the royals at least. He didn’t expect this place to be so… desolate.
“I believe they pay a once a year tax to the people of the Eastern Kingdoms -- the missing princess’s kingdom -- and then they are largely left alone. This is dragon territory after all,” Prince Colton explained. “No one has a real hold on it but because part of it scrapes against the princess’s kingdom, it is to her people that these hard-working individuals pay their taxes and what little tribute they can give.”
“No way.” Ranid rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and pouting like a child as he absorbed what Colton was telling him. “The kingdom renowned for its beauty wouldn’t let a place like this exist and tarnish their good name. This is a disgrace.”
From beside him on his own warhorse, Lord Petyr of The Eastern Kingdoms shook his head in embarrassment. How had he ever found the loud, obnoxious, and abrasive prince beautiful? Things had cooled significantly since he started seeking his own privacy and comfort in the bold red tent that Prince Colton had lent him. Sure, he was no longer in the man’s bed but anyone would think about waiting a full five minutes before another filled Petyr’s former position there. And Petyr knew from personal experience that when Ranid was distracted or angry, the whole act would take about five minutes… from start to finish.
“If you say so.” Colton snickered to himself, unwilling to engage the spoiled brat of a prince in any type of intellectual debate. As far as this asshole was concerned, if something wasn’t up to his ridiculous standards, then he would most likely dismiss it, and Colton was not up for this kind of stupidity. He could be back at his tent getting some shut-eye after a long and tedious… in every way imaginable… campaign march. He was tired, his ass hurt for all the wrong reasons, and now his head was starting to hurt as well from listening to the bitching and griping of the brat prince. The only amusement he’d found during this whole rush to an ass kicking was the delightfully sarcastic Lord Petyr.
The man was pretty, though his downcast eyes and guilty expression detracted from that somewhat. The man did know his mind though, and only consented to be abused a short time before, with some encouraging words, he struck out on his own. He was intelligent and sharp as he offered several pride-protecting alternatives to the idiot prince as they traveled that would allow him to pull out of his stupid march and still save face. Colton’s favorite idea was to just play this was an inspection and introduction tour to see what changes needed to be made before they reported back to the King of the Eastern Lands.
Of course, Rancid the Bol -- Ranid… Ranid the Bold ignored every idea offered and was hellbent on completing his quest no matter the cost. So far, he’d managed to lose a few tents, a few of his soldiers deserted because of the insanity that they were surrounded by, diseases was starting to run rampant through his men -- the sexually transmitted kind of course, because at this point the prince had more camp followers that loyal soldiers -- and he was losing the best aide-de-camp that Colton had ever seen.
Filled with righteous indignation, Ranid dismounted his tired horse with a huff and led the poor beast to what appeared to be an inn and tethered him to the post out front.
Petyr and Colton also dismounted and followed the upstart prince inside. They stepped into the dim light allowed by the open shutters of what appeared to be windows with some kind of glass. The rough wooden floors were dusty. Goodness knows how everything in this town was not covered in dust, but it looked like someone had tried to sweep it relatively clean. Several long wooden bench-style tables sat in rows on either side of the room, the bar along the back wall blocking access to what had to be a small kitchen in the back.
“You call this place an inn?” Rancid was already ranting at a disinterested woman who was slowly wiping down a battered bar with a dirty rag.
“That’s what the sign used to say.” She snorted, rolling her eyes and dropping the rag to the floor.
“Used to,” Ranid snarled, leaning on the bar… only to jerk his hand back as it encountered what had to be the remains of someone’s greasy dinner… or a body fluid. Who could tell?
“Used to.” The woman walked over to stand before him, her hefty body covered in a stained smock, her arms crossed over her chest as she stuck out her chin in an aggressive manner. “That’s what I said. Are you fucking deaf or something?”
“Do you know who I am?” He bent closer to growl in her face.
“No.” She leaned forward as well, growling back in his face. “And I really don’t give a fuck who you are. Do you want something or are you wasting my time?”
“I am the prince of your kingdom and I demand respect.”
“No,” the woman shook her head, a sardonic look spreading across her face. “Our kingdom doesn’t have any princes, unless you count the assholes that the princesses are supposed to marry. And you didn’t demand my respect, you demanded my utmost attention and you’re not worth my time… which you aren’t going to get.”
About the Author
Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.
From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.
Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.
Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter: @changelingpress