Wednesday, July 31, 2024

Newton's First by Stephanie Burke & Areana Senoj #Cyberpunk #ScienceFiction @changelingpress


A Cyberpunk Novel

Motherboards & Magic, Book 1

 

Cyberpunk / Science Fiction

Date Published: August 2, 2024


 


Newton’s First Law: An object in motion remains in motion. Until an outside force screws it all up.

As a grieving child in a burned-out husk of a body, Asher Syphamus was given an impersonal room within the Company’s cold labs -- until he was offered a second chance with illegal and painful cybernetic augmentations. Now, after many decades of martial arts training and mental conditioning, Ash is the all powerful DPL’s top agent and never misses a target. Along with his beautiful, hyper-sexed purple partner, Vers, the unstoppable duo hunts down the most dangerous hackers and criminals for punishment or elimination.

Korya Funo is full of privileged DPL information downloaded into her brain. If caught, she would be deleted from the census. That keeps her running -- until her luck runs out in Paradise, Nevada. When she’s captured by Ash and Vers, Korya accidentally reveals the truth about Asher’s parents’ deaths, and then all hell breaks loose.

Now with all their lives on the line and the fate of the planet riding on their backs, they trio will show the world why Newton’s First Law is not to be screwed with.

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2024 Stephanie Burke & Areana Senoj


“Fuck, Vers. Where are you?” Asher Syphamus muttered softly, knowing the cochlear implant installed just above his jaw bone and below his ear would pick up his words.

The wind whipped back the few tendrils of hair that escaped the tight bun containing his long hair. The bun hid locks tipped a rich blue almost matching the color of his cybernetic left eye.

As he walked away from the Virt Dive, the virtual reality diving bar where his mark had been lost earlier in the Blue, he wondered why people even bothered to hide from real life. The fucking Blue was where everyone logged in, turned on, and turned up in cyberspace. The Blue was a whole world inside the actual world, one that many used to escape life, spread joy, disappear into a sea of information, of education… to be your avatar while you fled your body and got lost in a way that only total computer immersion could bring. And above the Blue was the White.

The White was a shady, dangerous place where only the most experienced divers dared to venture -- the environment was just too dangerous for a diver used to only dealing with the Blue. The White was physically a small blank plane existing between the connection of the Blue and the person putting out information. Here, the world’s best hackers snatched dangerous information from accidental info dumps from those who purposefully stole and sold the data to the highest bidder. No matter how many protocols were put in place to protect the vulnerable space, the White divers always found a way in. And his latest ping had come from the mark he’d finally tracked down to this dive.

He felt the signal he was tracking start to move again and watched as his target slipped out, looking over her shoulder as if she knew he was there and following her. As he walked past the large, mirrored wall to the shop, he caught a quick glimpse of himself as he passed. His face was pale, creamy tan, the same as his mother’s. He had her eyes too, large but with an epicanthic fold that proclaimed his Asian ancestry. His eyebrows had some thickness but with a natural arch that made his eyes rather pretty. He had his African father’s full lips, though not the same concentration of melanin, more’s the pity. He could use more sun protection in this bright-assed desert. His nose was broad though, its bridge straight as a knife, and his cheekbones were high and sharp, like his dad’s. His thick, wavy hair was kept long and confined now so it wouldn’t get in his way.

Though he only caught a glimpse of himself as he followed after his mark, he could barely stand to look at his reflection. He was a damn near perfect combination of both his parents from what he could recall, though he didn’t dwell on that much. The pain of it all was still too crushing.

The air circulating through his lungs was quiet as he pulled in his emotions. Barely a sound emerged from his body as his booted feet slammed down on the concrete when his body lurched forward. His little trip into nostalgia had given his mark time to run and now he had to give chase.

His heart would be racing if it actually had the capacity to pump hot blood through his veins. His target was pulling a jackrabbit, dodging in between early morning foot traffic on the busy city street as she looked around her, prey knowing she was being stalked by an apex predator. Only the bright and very visible green of her plaits kept him from moving any faster. No matter how much he wanted to knock people aside to reach his target, he knew that drawing more attention to himself would be detrimental to their mission.

“I’ve been at this since the ass crack of dawn and I would really like to get some accurate intel from you, you one-being orgy.”

Don’t get cheeky, Vers responded. You’re just upset you don’t get laid.

Vers’ answer through Asher’s implanted microphone sounded more amused than insulted. That wasn’t what Asher had hoped for. When Vers was annoyed, his work efficiency increased by almost three percent and he could use some of that efficiency now, at least until he caught up with the woman who pinged on his internal sensors.

“Hmph,” Asher huffed. “Can you keep your mind out of your pants and on the job? I need to know if she’s the one.”

The green-haired woman in question cast one more furtive look over her shoulder before trying to hide herself in a gaggle of schoolchildren, all racing and gleefully dodging through the streets teeming with people traveling to get to their jobs and appointments in the watery light of a new sun. With their connection pads in hand, the tourist masses were an explosion of color, a flock of bright, chattering birds that raced through the smiling crowds. Their laughter was contagious, and it made Asher grit his teeth. In a firefight, mundanes always seemed to run right in the path of danger. He wished they would all just disappear.

I’m working on it. Give me a mo. Paradaise has a complicated network of --

“You just don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.” Asher managed to dodge several children, keeping one eye on the green of his mark’s hair as she ducked around a corner. He was closing in.

He moved faster, desperate not to lose her or give his position away. She couldn’t know if he was actually chasing her and he wanted to stay in that pocket of the unknown. She might sense someone or something was hot on her tail, but she had no idea from which direction the attack would come. And it wasn’t like there were a lot of places to hide in Paradaise, Nevada.

And then he wanted to smack himself stupid for thinking that a woman who could possibly be the government hacker he was sent out to find wouldn’t be wily enough to actually give him the slip. Underestimation was going to cost him dearly because the moment he turned the corner, he lost sight of her in a sea of green, low-flying kites.

Hey buddy, guess what? Did you know there’s a butterfly kite flying festival today? There’s gonna be a lot of kids and old people so maybe you wanna keep an eye out for that.

“Gee, thanks, Vers. You couldn’t fucking tell me that five minutes earlier?” As he spoke, he heard a cheer, and a wall of sound rushed past him as the hum of several hundred robotic and some basic silk cloth kites took to the sky. People looked up in awe as dancing holograms of colorful transparent butterflies took to the sky, spinning and dancing as safe holographic fireworks exploded over them.

Well, it’s a point of historical interest, as they’ve been having the butterfly festival for over a hundred years. Get some culture, you asshole. You need it more than you need to get laid.

“What I need is a way around this mess.” Asher looked around at the mass of people, made up mostly of children and old people gathered in groups, each holding massive butterfly kites of their own. Some held remotes that controlled the flight of the butterfly kites, both real and illusory. Most of them, unfortunately, glittered and glowed the same primarily green color that matched his mark’s hair.

Pinging your location, Vers purred in his ear after a moment of quiet while more and more people filed onto the special moving sidewalk heading toward the restored MGM Grand, singing and chanting as they moved. Oh! You aren’t far from the New Bellagio. One of these days I’m going to get you there for a real upgrade instead of the crap the powers that be keep sending you to.

“Vers --”

I mean it. You’re in a town right outside of Vegas, baby! Almost to the cybernetic playground of the whole entire continent ever since the redesign of the area. To get anything better you’d have to hop a streaker across the Pacific to Japan. It’s amazing what they can do with both artistry and circuitry.

“Whatever the fuck,” Asher grumbled, casting his gaze around. He ignored the small vibration in his brain as the ocular implant adjusted and repositioned, sending his mind a feed of information calculating the height of the buildings and the large vehicles passing by.

Turning to a small three-story building to his right, Asher took three fast, bounding steps then flexed his leg muscles. With a mechanical whisper, he launched himself skywards, a blurred silver flash through the backdrop of colorful fluttering kites, before he landed on the flat solar tiles of the roof.

Bent over, he raced along the edges of the closely placed buildings, jumping the odd ones that bordered on alleys, leaping up to the higher ones, his eyes constantly searching, feeding him data so he could adjust his flight.

He was contemplating going back to the ground and following her along the crowded streets when he saw a blur of green headed away from the celebration and toward a small, dark street that led away from the sound of laughter and merriment.

There, in between a closed toy shop on one side and ironically, an adult toy shop, was where his prey was fleeing.

To the left, Casanova, Vers confirmed softly with the just the right amount of sarcasm for the nickname. And you better move swiftly. She’s about to head to a parking lot and if she has her vehicle shielded, well, we are shit out of luck, Ash. If she gets away, you’d be better off hitting a pleasure palace and getting your freak on ‘cause that signal is going to be scattered and lost. And I urge you to take advantage of the many wonderful and erotic amenities that this run-down trash heap of a city provides. Besides, your cherry needs plucking ‘cause that bitch is overripe.

 

 

About the Authors

Stephanie Burke 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. 

Author on Facebook

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Areana Senoj is a multi-genre writer of erotic romance, paranormal, and sci-fi fantasy fiction. She’s been an actress, singer, dancer, educator, and, briefly, a stay-at-home “tennis, soccer, and band mom,” as well as a small business entrepreneur. Now she’s enjoying a new career living life as a full-time writer. She’s thrilled to join Changeling Press, where she's teamed up with USA Today Best Selling Author Stephanie Burke, co-authoring Motherboards and Magic. 

Author’s Blog

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter


 

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

 

 

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RABT Book Tours & PR

Monday, July 29, 2024

Out Now! Pretty Average: Finding Love in an Existential Crisis by Arini Vlotman #multicultural #romance

 


Blurb:

Society should agree that growing up was a scam. One giant experiment that failed..

Esha More is celebrating her 35th birthday and her quick fix of hair dye and champagne only leaves her with a hangover and more problems. When she asks for excitement, getting thrown in the deep end of a corporate scandal is not what she meant.

Kane Mittal has been called in as a consultant to manage yet another crisis. Kane has enough women making demands, but after Esha tumbles into his life he can't stop thinking about her.

On a mission to save Esha's career and Kane's family business, together they navigate an inept flock of managers while faced with a mounting deadline, their powerful attraction, and a pandora's box of secrets.

Join Esha and Kane in their adventurous meet-cute, a workplace romance filled with laughter, and a hefty dose of intrigue.

 

Available from:

 

Ingram: https://shop.ingramspark.com/b/084?m85tyNocZB4qMFqcFJvarH8nEUFJByquPCQkx6iwmLJ

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Pretty-Average-Arini-Vlotman/dp/1962739023/

            TakeAlot: https://www.takealot.com/pretty-average/PLID95437049

Smashwords: https://books2read.com/u/boMEva

Excerpt:

The root of all evil was age. There was no way around it. Everyone said you should know what you’re doing, but there’s a little voice in your head, always there, always whispering, ‘Are you sure?’.

Society should agree growing up was a scam. One giant experiment that failed.

That sounded right.

Esha picked up her cell phone and recited the words into her Deathbed app, nodding to herself in satisfaction. The invention was her special project in the making. An app designed to prepare for one’s death; it was genius. One day her family and friends would read those words at her funeral and lament at her wisdom.

That’ll show them.

Of course, she’d be dead and wouldn’t be around to witness that profound moment. But she could remind them it was predicted before her death. She typed out a quick note on her phone, Add deathbed reminders from predeath musings.

The sound of a child’s high-pitched shout outside her car window brought her back to the present. With her phone tucked into her handbag, she took one last look at her fluffy curls in the rear-view mirror. Satisfied, she slid out of her beat-up Toyota and tapped the steering wheel for good luck. She’d read that finding a grounding symbol kept you, well... grounded. So, she tried to find as many symbols as she could.

Out from the stifling heat of the car, her arms and shoulders tingled from the warmth of the summer sun, the scent of freshly cut grass tickling her nose. She needed to add antihistamines to her next pharmacy run, the pollen was heavy enough to taste. The familiar sound of the golfing wannabe's hitting their balls in the driving range, laughter from a family getting out of their massive SUVs, and the hollers of fans cheering to a rugby match in the bar made her smile. Filled with a reviving energy that added a bounce to her step, a buzz of excitement ran through her, shaking her from her birthday funk.

While meeting her friends at the local drinking dive for celebratory birthday drinks was a steadfast tradition, she had felt less than enthusiastic this year. Death was one year closer, what was there to celebrate? The only reason she looked forward to the day was the thought of spending it with her two best friends. Getting together for a few hours was becoming harder and far between, so she cherished every moment with them.

“Oi! Ash! Stop staring at the paving and get over here.”

Esha saw her friend Amy who hollered over the cars and sounds drifting from the restaurant, making a beeline in that direction.

Amy had a set of lungs to be reckoned with, being a mum of three kids, and Esha always marvelled at her friend’s contradictory nature. A full head shorter than Esha, Amy was petite in a Bernadette from The Big Bang Theory kind of way. Like her favourite character, Amy was also a firecracker. While Esha was all thighs, hips, and bum; Amy was all boobs, chin, and smiles.

Picking up her pace, Esha dove at her friend for a hug.

“Girl, you did it!” Amy tilted Esha’s head left and right while running her fingers through her hair. “Was it worth it?”

“Hell yeah! It was torture. Six hours in that chair was a pain, but I finally got a change, like a real, noticeable change.”

Esha grinned, swinging her head like a shampoo ad model, and giving herself a surge of confidence. The week leading up to her 35th birthday was a whirlwind of activity. All the updating of wills and policies tired her out. A few days of soul-searching combined with lack of sleep gave her the perfect solution: change. A change was as good as a holiday, right? After adding turquoise streaks to her long, normal brown hair and buying a new shade of pink lip gloss that clashed with her brown skin tone, she felt not a single day younger. So, more change next time. Or a different change.

“Short of cutting the whole lot off, this is about as noticeable as it gets.”

Always adventurous with her hair, Amy sported a pixie cut with detailed etching behind her ears.

Esha caught sight of her reflection in Amy’s sunglasses, admiring the sight of the myriad of blue shades that shone back at her. The shiny strands were highlighted by the early afternoon sunlight, creating a pleasing cascade along her shoulders. Not too shabby, not too shabby at all. Too bad her hair was all going to fall out one day. Bad genes.

About the Author:

A romance fanatic, book worm, book hoarder, and writer, Arini Vlotman is a people’s person and a wordy nerd. She finds comfort in almost any space, but there is nothing quite like being with her husband, son, and fur babies. Where writers are her superheroes and readers are her tribe, Johannesburg, South Africa is where Arini calls home.

One of Arini's favourite hobbies is Fangirling (is that a thing?), musicians, books, movies, and obscure characters. When Arini finds something she loves, she delves into it like Harry Potter dives into the Whomping Willow.

Catch Arini on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Tiktok so you can share your journeys together.​ Arini's debut novel, Pretty Average, hits shelves March 2024.

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AriniVlot

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@arini_author

Threads: https://www.threads.net/@arinivlotman

 


Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Friday, July 26, 2024

SIN by Beth D. Carter #mc #romance @evernightpub



Death Riders MC


MC Romance

Date Published: 07-23-1124

Publisher: Evernight Publishing


 

Adira Dobias thought she had the perfect life along with a perfect fiancé. When she discovers her supposedly pious parents aren’t the God-fearing people she thought them to be, it sends her running. She arrives in Cardinal, at the home of a childhood friend, in order to figure out where to go next.

When she applies for a job at a strip club, owned by the Death Riders, Ares hires her on the spot. He thinks she is the woman he and Hunter have been searching for. The perfect woman to belong to both of them.

It was only supposed to be fun, but somewhere along the way, Adira’s heart got entangled. When a misunderstanding leads to disaster, the two men have to work fast so they don’t lose the woman they’ve fallen for.

 

 

Dedication

For everyone who has enjoyed the Death Riders stories. This one may not have a paranormal twist, but I hope you like it anyway.

 

Teaser

As he cleaned up the interview table the door opened and a young woman entered, hovering in the doorway. Long blonde hair cascaded down her back. Big blue eyes looked around, wide-eyed and innocent. She wore jeans and a t-shirt, and had no make-up on her face. And she didn’t need it because she was fucking gorgeous. His dick also noticed, very interested in what she was doing here.

          “Can I help you?” he asked.

          “I…um, well, I was here to apply for the job.”

Her voice was soft. Melodic. He bet she’d scream beautifully with pleasure, and he wanted to be the one who gave it to her. Wanted her to cry out his name when she came. She looked like a fucking angel with a body made to sin. Narrow waist, long legs. Tits more than a handful. He really wanted to get her naked and under him.

          “Certainly,” he said, smiling. Hoping to relax her. “I’m Ares. I own The Pussy Willow.”

She gave a self-conscious wave. “Nice to meet you. I’m Adira. Am I too late for an interview?”

          He shook his head. “Not at all. How did you hear about the job?”

Her fair complexion flushed red. He didn’t remember ever seeing a woman blush before and it fascinated him.

          “I was in a coffee shop and I eavesdropped on two women talking.”

          That amused him. “All right.”

He strode closer, and the scent of warm spice hit him, making his mouth water, and he realized it was her. He licked his lips, wondering if she tasted like sugar, spice and everything nice. “Do you have any experience being a hostess?”

Disappointment dulled her eyes. “No. I don’t have a lot of work experience. I-I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

She turned to leave and he hurried to push the door closed, preventing her from disappearing. By doing that, however, brought him flush against her body, her back to his chest. The contact had his heart galloping and his cock going rock hard in an instant.

“Don’t go,” he murmured softly. A little tremor rolled through her body and he hoped to fucking God it was because she felt what he was feeling. “I don’t care if you don’t know how to greet customers. I can teach you everything you need to know.”


About the Author

I write about the very ordinary woman thrust into an extraordinary circumstance, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate high rollers.  I try to write characters who aren't cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I strive to create characters who are complex and full of flaws. Heroes and heroines who find redemption through love.

 

Contact Links

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Purchase Links

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Thursday, July 25, 2024

Goblin Girl by Mikala Ash #Steampunk #Romance @changelingpress

 

Empire of the Sky, Book 4


Steampunk Romance

Date Published: 7/26/24

Publisher: Changeling Press


 

 

Nancy Lea is the Lunarian envoy to Queen Victoria. She and Jacob McCleary come to Earth with a deadly warning from Mon Ilson, the Emperor of Space. At an isolated airfield in the midst of a raging storm, Nancy is cruelly mistaken for the murderous Lady Neva Talbot-Rhys. Nancy is interrogated by the Queen's Agent, the witch Felicity Cressy. To keep her off guard, Felicity employs an unorthodox strategy. She introduces the dashing Captain Jaimee Dalgliesh to the alien in human form. His mission is to seduce Nancy, but can he avoid being seduced in turn?

Goblin Girl continues the Cressida Troy saga in which an unprepared world faces alien invasion. In a time where airships are commonplace, and witchcraft plays a crucial role in Queen Victoria's empire, Goblin Girl is a steamy adventure in the strange but curiously familiar universe of what could have been.

 

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Mikala Ash

 

Nancy Lea

1867 A Goblin Girl Goes to Earth

 

It was a rough descent. Inside the capsule, Jacob and I were pressed together in the contoured couch, hip to hip, and shoulder to shoulder. The belts that held me securely in place as we were jostled about bit through my one-piece flying costume and would surely leave bruises. We were riding a human test vehicle which we had captured some time ago. Jacob had been the pilot and had been our prisoner until he reluctantly agreed to be Mon Ilson’s envoy. I was to carry my emperor’s voice to the queen.

Jacob was wearing a leather flying cap and green filtered goggles and looked quite amphibian as his gaze shifted from side to side. He was closely monitoring the gauges and dials on the control panel and manipulated the various levers that controlled the ship’s buoyancy. Occasionally he would glance at me, and the visible part of his face split in a broad grin. He was excited to be returning home.

By Mon Ilson’s magic, the churning storm camouflaged our arrival. Barely two minutes before, we’d been released by the Lunarian airship and were descending at a rapid rate toward the Lizard Peninsula on the Cornish coast. Our ship, little more than a spherical steel ball barely ten feet wide, bucked and swayed at the mercy of the tempest. I bit my lower lip, imagining the gale that raged on the other side of the vessel’s thin shell, just a few inches from my head.

Jacob was adjusting the controls to release helium gas from our envelope so that we landed as close as we could to the designated airfield. Timing was of the essence if we were not to be blown too far off course. A violent wind gust rocked us, and I clutched Jacob’s arm.

“Chin up, Goblin Girl. We’ll be on solid ground soon.”

The appellation took me back to the first occasion he called me by that vile name. At the time I knew he’d intended it as an insult. We’d been “fucking like ferrets” as he described our frequent coupling, and I was panting frantically in the aftermath of a thundering climax.

“Why do you call me that?” I had asked resentfully once my breathing had calmed.

“Goblin Girl?” His smile as he chucked my chin was annoyingly patronising. “My dear,” he began, his tone mocking. “I know inside that pretty little human head is a leather-skinned goblin, like those stone gargoyles perched high up on a cathedral wall. You have huge yellow eyes, slimy slits for nostrils cut in a grey face as flat as an anvil. Rows of pin-sharp teeth hide behind knife-edged lips. You have bony shoulders, and muscled arms like knotted wood, so powerful you could snap a human neck. Not to forget the pair of oily black wings like those of a demonic bat, equipped with a half dozen razor-tipped talons, and ugly gnarled feet! For God’s sake, don’t get me started on your feet!”

I would be lying to pretend it hadn’t hurt, but his description of our -- yes, my -- natural form was accurate. What cut deeper was that he’d use those words to hurt me while his pearly seed dripped from my very bruised and unmistakably human cunt. I had given him the most hateful of glares and stuck out my tongue.

He laughed. “That’s the spirit! On occasion you act so human. Sometimes I quite forget.”

“I don’t want you to forget.”

“Why do you say so?”

“I want you to love me for myself, my soul, not my outward form whatever it takes.”

“Huh! Beauty is only skin deep as they say. Is that what you mean? Are you sure you want to go down that thorny trail?”

My feelings were hurt, still an odd sensation, and I didn’t yet know when to stop. “Perhaps.”

Jacob knitted his brow. “Why on Earth do you want me to love you? Don’t answer that. I know you are just following orders and will say anything to get inside my head.” His expression had changed, from mild curiosity to utter contempt.

“I wonder you can bring yourself to lie with me if that is what you believe.”

Jacob shrugged. “A man has urges. I can’t control the call, the quickening of the blood, or deny the demanding reality of my hard cock. That body you have stolen, killed for, I should say, would get a rise out of any man -- alive or dead! Your human covering is just an empty vessel, somewhere to dump my seed.” He glared at me, his eyes as hard as flint, and I saw the hatred behind them. Then they softened. “Ah, don’t do that.”

He wiped the tear away with his thumb. The gentle action broke the dam, and there followed a flood.

“Ah, my Goblin Girl… come here!” He held me close, his heart thudding in his chest, his warm breath upon my cheek. “I’m a beast too. There’s no denying it.”

Later, after he’d ploughed my furrow once again and jetted more seed into my human cunt, he held me tight. “Why?” he asked after a few moments.

“Why what?”

His gaze took in my quivering form. “All this. Why did you give up your natural body for this human one? Marjorie was so in love with hers she’d do anything to get it back, even murder and treason. Why are you lot not attached to your form?”

He was referring to Marjorie, a nascent witch whose body had been taken from its grave and later adopted. Her soul found sanctuary in Cressida Troy’s mind until Mon Ilson enabled her to return to her body for helping Cressida kill the human scientist, Fleur Cumberland. Now Marjorie was our most powerful agent on Earth.

Jacob had thumped his naked chest. “My attachment to this weak and breakable frame was so strong it allowed me to survive after my soul had been wrenched away.” He took my chin between thumb and forefinger. “You chose to do this,” he continued, forcing me to justify myself. “Why?”

Why indeed? “I do not regret it.”

“I’ve noticed, and that’s what I don’t understand. Have you all been mesmerised by Mon Ilson to deny your love of your natural form?”

“I have not!”

“Then why? I want to understand. It’s no small thing to give up your body, no matter how grotesque it is.”

“We do not see ourselves so,” I countered.

His brow furrowed with incomprehension. “Then why? You could fly, for God’s sake!”

“It is hard to express. It is too easy to say, as many will, I did it because Mon Ilson commanded it. Those words are just a public display of loyalty. As wonderful achievements as our cities are, the selfish reason is we are heartily sick of existing underground. We want to live under a wide blue sky rather than a roof of stone, feel fragrant wind on our cheeks rather than a sterile breeze from a fan, to bask in the summer sun and have our faces tanned, impossible under cold artificial light. We want to swim in the ocean and feel mud squish between our toes. We want to make love, to feel a kiss and take pleasure in it, to quiver with a soft caress, and be overwhelmed by the glorious sensations of making love.”

 


About the Author

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

 

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

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

 

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RABT Book Tours & PR

Tuesday, July 23, 2024

Mama & Pops by Marteeka Karland #mc #romance @changelingpress

 

Bones MC Legends, Book One

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: 7/26/24

Publisher: Changeling Press


 

Somerset, Kentucky. My home. Or it was. Coming back from Nam was a friggin’ shock. No one wanted us there, but no one really wants us back here, either. In their eyes, we’re all guilty. Guess I feel the same way about them. I don’t belong anywhere. Maybe I never really did.

Except with Mama. For me, meeting Mama was like a dime novel. Fell for her almost the moment I laid eyes on her. Knew she’d be mine after our first kiss. Of course, convincing her took a little time. But it’s because of Mama I have a home and people I care about now. I may be a badass soldier, but she’s the hardest, coldest warrior I ever met. Yet she has more compassion in her than any ten people I know.

This is the story of how Bones MC was born, and why Mama and me keep to the shadows. Since we met, we’ve always had each other’s backs. No one knows all our secrets, not even those closest to us. Other people have come and gone in our lives, but it’s always been me and Mama. This is our story.

 

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Marteeka Karland

 

Sgt. Michael (Mike) Wilbanks

Louisville, Kentucky, 1968

 

“This right here is some happy horseshit.”

I glanced at the woman beside me who spoke in a low, wistful tone. She’d been on the same plane as I had coming from San Francisco. Though the bag she carried had an Army medical insignia, she’d dressed in street clothes. There was a hard look about her that I’d seen many times during my tours in Vietnam. We hadn’t spoken during the flight, but she was hard not to notice.

She looked to be in her mid to late twenties, carrying herself with the confidence of a warrior. My eye had been drawn her way automatically from the moment she’d stepped on the plane. I’d pegged her as the most dangerous person on the plane -- other than myself. Looking at her now, I was reevaluating that notion. The woman might be even more dangerous than I was.

“One’d think those people had jobs to go to.” I wasn’t sure if that was the “happy horseshit” she was referring to, but I chose to make it about the protesters. I’d encountered groups like this in every fucking airport I’d stopped in on my way back. To say I was spoiling for a fight was the understatement of the fucking century.

“One would think.” The woman didn’t look my way or seem interested in conversation. Instead, she was scanning the crowd. Not like she was looking for someone in particular, though. I’d seen that look many times. She was looking for a threat. VC on the trail!

I shook my head, shaking away the memory. The war wasn’t over yet, but it was for me. “You expecting trouble?” Her vigilance -- and my own demons -- had my radar pinging.

“Always.”

I had travel plans, but there was something about the woman that made me walk beside her through the Louisville terminal instead of making my way to my own gate. She was tall, maybe five-ten, with shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off lean, muscular arms. Everything about her screamed confidence, strength, and control. I’d met a few Army nurses who had similar looks about them, but this woman was different. She carried herself with purpose, her duffle slung over her shoulder like my own. Like she was on a mission and no one was going to stop her, even if she had to kill to get them out of her way. She didn’t speak again or acknowledge me, but she didn’t tell me to back off, either.

The terminal wasn’t particularly crowded, though there might have been a hundred people in the area. All I wanted to do was secure the bike I’d procured the second I’d gotten back to the States and fucking ride. I’d been offered a chance to join an MC called Iron Tzars, but I wasn’t sure they were really my thing. Their causes were noble and any killing they did wasn’t indiscriminate, but I’d had my fill of death in country. Even for those who needed killing.

Boom!

A shot rang out and all around us people screamed, ducking for cover.

Boom!

A nearby window shattered as the round hit, sending glass shattering to the floor and the concrete outside. I scanned the crowd for the shooter before glancing where I knew the woman had stood. Same as me, she was looking around for the shooter. I saw the exact moment she spotted him. Her features hardened and she looked angry as fuck as she squatted next to me, behind the nearby counter. “Fucker’s military.”

“Can’t say I blame him given the reception we got when we landed. Wouldn’t be my first choice of things to do, though.”

Her gaze went to mine. “You any good in a fight?”

I shrugged. “Good as any, I guess. Ain’t armed.”

She shook her head. “Me neither.”

“Got a plan?” If she didn’t, I’d come up with one, but this woman looked like she’d been expecting trouble and knew how to deal with it. If she knew the soldier in question or had known this was going to happen, she’d have a plan. I’d follow her lead until she proved she didn’t know what she was doing. One thing I’d learned in Nam was that often it wasn’t the most educated man or the highest-ranking officer who could get you out alive.

“He’s not aiming at anyone in particular. I’ll talk to him. See if I can get him to surrender peacefully. You position yourself behind him and be ready.” She gave me a pointed look. “I’ll be counting on you to take him down before he shoots me.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Maybe I better try to talk to him.”

She gave me an exasperated huff. “Do you honestly think I can take him down myself? I’m strong, but he’s easily twice my size.”

“You ain’t makin’ this easy, woman.”

“What’s so fuckin’ difficult about it?”

Her scowl was hard enough to trigger my well-trained instincts. I wanted to snap a salute and bark out, Yes, sir!

“Be ready. Take him down if he looks like he’s gonna shoot me or anyone else.” She tilted her head, giving me a puzzled stare. “You ain’t got battle fatigue, do you? You don’t act like you’ve had all you can take.”

“No. I’m good.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Just don’t like puttin’ a woman out front to use as bait. I should be the one takin’ the risks.”

“Well, I mean, if you want to risk your life when he’ll probably be able to shake me off the second I go for him, fine by me. But I trust you in that regard more than you should trust me. The odds of you gettin’ killed are way higher than me.”

I stared at her until another boom went off followed almost immediately by another window shattering. “You’re gonna give me all kinds of fuckin’ trouble, ain’t you?”

She grinned. “Trouble’s my middle name. Get in position. I’ll wait until you’re behind him.” She pointed at the barrier next to the stairs and I saw where she meant.

“Yeah, that’s where I thought I’d wait. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

We stared at each other hard for a moment before she spoke. “What’s your name, soldier?”

“Sergeant Michael Wilbanks. At least, that was my rank when I was discharged.”

“Honorable?” She raised an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes and pointed at my Army issue fatigues. “Of course. Still wearin’ the uniform, ain’t I? Re-upped after my initial tour. Not this time, though. Had enough of the killin’.”

She nodded. “Dr. Josephine Peyton, Captain, US Army. Or I was. You can call me Jo. I got a four-six-one discharge for ‘inadequate personality’ ‘cause I told a general touring our field hospital to suck my dick when he said the men in my ward were sacrificed for the greater good, then couldn’t tell me what the fucking greater good was.”

I couldn’t contain my bark of laughter. “Promise me, when this is over, you’ll let me take you out on a date.”

Josephine smirked. “Well, I guess that depends on whether you’re able to take this guy down or not. I won’t go out with a pussy.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

She shrugged. “If it gets this guy to stop shootin’ the place up, take it however you like.”

Another boom broke the moment. People screamed all around us, but the only person I saw was Jo and her pale blue eyes. Before I could think too much about it, I leaned in and wrapped my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a hard kiss.

 

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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