North Storm by Will Okati #BDSM #GayRomance @changelingpress

 

A Gay BDSM Sea Adventure Romance

 

Action Adventure, BDSM, Gay Romance

To Be Published: May 30, 2025

 

North, a rural water farmer, has come to the big citta to be trained in the art of deep-water treasure diving. A man can make enough in a season to take care of his family for years -- except as a novice and a country boy, North can't find anyone willing to teach him the job.

That is, until he finds a mentor in the wild, sexually charismatic "Storm." Storm promises to teach North everything he knows, from navigating the dangers of the hunt to submission in bed -- but only if North is willing to give himself over completely.

Praise for North Storm

 

"Will Okati has once again written a book that will capture you attention from the first page, with the rich world in which this story unfolds and with the lava hot sensuality that the characters express. The love that these two share will leave you flushed and reaching for something to cool down!"

--Sabella, Joyfully Reviewed

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Will Okati

 

For someone who had been raised on the sea, North was beginning to hate the sight of it. Blue waters, green, aqua, all of them stretching as far as his eyes could see. He'd been rowing for two weeks now, the winds too calm for his small sail to pick up much of a breeze to help propel him forward.

Lucky for him, then, that he'd almost arrived at his destination.

Just ahead, North could see the tall, stone turrets and walkways of the Citta del'Acqua, the massive capital of his world. There were other boats not too far away, fishermen dangling rods over their sides and glancing up in interest at North, scruffy from his fortnight's travel and pale with exhaustion.

"Ho!" one of them shouted, his voice carrying across the water. "Where are you bound, boy?"

"I'm no boy!" North fired back automatically. True, he looked younger than his years, but he'd passed boyhood five years back and was fully an adult. He hated it when people thought him younger than he was.

"Oh, oh, a temper he has, a fine temper!" The fisherman and his cronies laughed. Still others lifted their heads to watch. "Well, firebrand, where are you going? Come to see the sights of the citta?"

North sailed in a little closer, careful not to lose control of his small craft and bump into one of the fishing boats. "I'm looking for the master clamsmen," he said, once he didn't have to shout. "The divers. Can you tell me where to find them?"

The fishermen laughed. "A boy from the country, come to be a diver?" One of them hooted. "Boy, have you ever been deeper than eight feet below the surface of the water?"

North stiffened. "I'm not a boy. And yes, I have been further down. Fifteen feet, last I counted."

"You'd have to go a distance more to hunt the clams," the fisherman said, his weathered face crinkling in amusement. "What are you really doing here, anyway? Run away from home, did you, boy?"

North's jaw tightened. "Just tell me where I can find the divers," he said through gritted teeth. "I'll be on my way, then."

"Why, when this is so much more fun?" The fisherman gestured toward his boat. "Come on, we've a spare rod and reel. You could help us out with the day's work, and we'd split the catch evenly. Give you a little money to help you through your first night here. Plenty of wine, song, and women, eh?" He winked and splashed his oar into the water, to the great amusement of his mates.

North shook his head. "I prefer men. And I'd rather not stay and fish." His back was still bristling from their calling him boy. "Do you know where the divers are or not?"

"Well!" The fisherman drew himself upright, as if taking offense at North's rejection of his offer. "There's no need to get all hoity-toity with me, young man. Of course I know where the divers are, but why should I tell you? You haven't earned the right to the knowledge yet."

North sighed. If this was the way they operated in these parts, he'd just as soon go home. But he couldn't, could he? He'd come to the citta for two reasons: one, to learn how to dive for the giant clams that had bizarrely migrated to his village, and two, to learn how to be a Man Hand, one of those who taught others how to give sexual pleasure. And how could he teach if he didn't know himself? "Fine," he said, taking out his own rod and reel. "If I catch a fish for you, will you be happy then? Will you tell me where to find what I'm looking for?"

The fishermen nudged each other, grinning. "A big fish," their leader clarified. "Larger than my hand, and thicker than my arm. None of this penny-ante stuff for us, thank you. Then we'll send you on your way."

"Good," North said, as he reached into his nearly empty bait bucket and pulled out a scrap of dead fish innards from the last meal he'd caught. "Storm is waiting for me. Or at least his letter said he was supposed to be."

The fisherman's jaw dropped. "S-Storm?" he asked after a moment, voice wobbling. "You're supposed to report to Storm?"

"Why?" North cast his line. "Is there more than one?" He grinned wickedly at the fisherman, who looked completely taken aback, mouth moving in a useless motion up and down. "No worries. I'll be sure to tell him what good care you took of me." He laughed to himself, softly, as the fisherman began to curse underneath his breath. No, indeed. He was no callow boy to be played with.

About the Author

Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a lifelong love of storytelling. Will's definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for, though he -- not she anymore -- is a lot less quiet these days.

 

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

 

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Ky's Revenge by Mikala Ash #ScienceFiction #Romance @changelingpress

 

The Rebellious Slave 3

Post-Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Action Adventure Romance

To Be Published: May 30, 2025

 

 

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

The lusty adventure continues!

 

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

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

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

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Mikala Ash

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Call me Lord Thorfin!”

“Lord Thorfin,” the man hastily corrected himself.

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

Thorfin!

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

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

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

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

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

“Then put him to the question.”

What question?

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

Of course. This was about Rowan!

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

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

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

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

Ky repeated his answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

About the Author

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

 

Author on Facebook

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

 

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Mend Your Heart and Find Emotional Freedom by Alina Palancean

 

Nonfiction

Date Published: May 16, 2025

 

 

"Mend Your Heart and Find Emotional Freedom" is a deep dive into people’s hearts and their love stories.

This book provides a unique perspective on heartbreak from grief, loss, pain, trauma, divorce, and love.

 

It offers insight into people’s hearts and how to heal from past experiences with love, compassion, kindness, and forgiveness.

 

Love is the path to true healing!

 

With Rapid Transformational Therapy, Alina has been empowering women and men all over the globe to reclaim their voice, own their power, find love within, embrace their story to create and manifest the life they truly desire. Her experiences led her to her purpose of helping others let go of past burdens, break the cycle of suffering, and find peace, healing, freedom, joy and happiness. Alina inspires everyone to lead with love from their heart space and see the magic unfold in the most extraordinary ways.

About the Author

Alina Palancean is a Rapid Transformational Practitioner and an Inner Child Specialist. Rapid Transformational Therapy has allowed her to change people's lives in minutes rather than years. This unique method gets to the root cause of the problems and unlocks limiting beliefs, lifelong blocks, and cycles that keep us trapped. The RTT sessions empower individuals to discover their own strengths, let go of the past and develop the skills necessary for personal transformation. Alina is passionate about raising awareness of the power of the subconscious mind and the impact it has on our daily lives. She regularly shares insights and tips through her social media, aiming to inspire others to take charge of their emotional well-being.

Alina believes that everyone has the potential to overcome their challenges and achieve their dreams. Her warm and empathetic approach creates a safe space for healing and growth, tailoring her sessions to meet the individual needs of each client.

Alina is convinced that inner child healing is the path to the rediscovery of the true self and reconnecting with lost parts of your inner world. Looking through your inner child lens opens you up to curiosity, kindness, magic, acceptance, and unconditional love.

 

Contact Links

Website

Instagram

 

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REBEL by Harley Wylde #MCromance @changelingpress

 

(Devil’s Boneyard MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: May 23, 2025

 

Are you ready to dive into a world where love and vengeance intertwine?

 

Rio -- I thought I had my future mapped out with the Army until two men shattered that dream, leaving me medically discharged and lost. I journeyed west, then returned east after a call from my superior, urging me to testify against those who hurt me. When I stepped into a biker clubhouse along the way, I never expected to find a place I could truly call home. Rebel makes me want to trust again. He’s charming, bold, protective, and understanding. I started my journey as a way to escape my past. I ended up finding a family -- and possibly love.

Rebel -- The moment Rio walked into the clubhouse, she had my attention. Proud, confident, and armed, she’s a storm ready to be unleashed. When her past comes looking for her, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Those men have made a fatal mistake. They thought they were hunters. What they don’t know is that I’m the predator, and they aren’t walking out of my town alive.

 

Love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a battle worth fighting for.

 

Warning: Rebel is intended for readers 18+ due to adult situations, bad language, and violence. The story contains content some readers may find difficult to read. There’s a guaranteed HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger!

 

EXCERPT

I leaned against the wall near the bar, nursing my whiskey and watching the usual Friday night chaos unfold. The Devil’s Boneyard clubhouse pulsed with life around me -- half-naked women draping themselves over patched members, Prospects hustling drinks, the bass from the speakers vibrating through the floorboards. Then she walked in, pushing the door open with more force than necessary, like she needed everyone to know she wasn’t sneaking in. The metal hinges had protested with a squeal that somehow cut through the roar of Guns N’ Roses blasting from the speakers. For a split second, a few heads turned -- then most went back to their business. Not mine. I kept watching.

Strawberry-blonde hair, fierce blue eyes, and a don’t-fuck-with-me stride that parted the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea. Something electric snapped in the air, and I knew my quiet night had just gotten a hell of a lot more interesting.

She stood there in worn jeans, combat boots, and a leather jacket that had seen better days. Not trying to show skin like the club girls but somehow commanding more attention. Her eyes scanned the room with military precision, taking stock of every exit, every threat. I recognized that look. Had worn it myself once.

The clubhouse wasn’t much to look at. Worn hardwood floors bearing cigarette burns and knife marks that told stories of parties past. The walls were covered in a collection of road signs, license plates, and probably a bit too much Harley-Davidson memorabilia. The lighting was shit -- dim yellow bulbs -- but it hid the stains well enough.

She wrinkled her nose, probably at the cocktail of smells -- stale beer, motor oil, leather, sweat, and the unmistakable scent of sex. Her shoulders tensed as two hang-arounds brushed past her, but she stood her ground. Didn’t flinch. Interesting.

Charming sat at his usual table in the corner, silver-threaded hair catching the light as he nodded at something Havoc was saying. Even from across the room, you could feel his presence. His years as president had that effect. Men unconsciously straightened when he looked their way, women’s voices dropped to deferential tones. Not out of fear -- though plenty feared him -- but out of the kind of respect that can’t be demanded, only earned.

I watched her clock him immediately. Smart girl. In a room full of predators, she’d identified the alpha in seconds. Her eyes narrowed slightly, assessing, calculating. But she didn’t approach. Instead, she made her way to the bar, keeping her back to the wall, ordering something I couldn’t hear over the music.

“Who’s the new blood?” Chaos appeared beside me, beer in hand, voice unnecessarily loud as usual.

“Don’t know yet,” I said, not taking my eyes off her. “But I’m about to find out.”

“She looks like she’d cut your dick off for saying hello wrong.” He grinned, obviously considering this a challenge rather than a warning.

“Then I better say it right.” I drained my whiskey and set the glass down with a decisive clink.

Across the room, one of the club girls -- a blonde with tits that defied gravity and the IQ of a doorknob -- was trying to chat her up. Probably recruiting for the stable, or assessing if she would be a rival. The strawberry blonde’s expression had gone from cautious to thunderous. Time to intervene before something ugly happened.

I crossed the floor in long strides, noticing how several of the brothers were now watching with idle interest. New female faces always drew attention, especially ones that didn’t fit the typical groupie mold.

“Tiffany,” I said to the blonde, not bothering with pleasantries, “I think Java’s looking for you.”

She pouted, those silicone lips forming a perfect bow. “I’m just being friendly, Rebel.”

“Be friendly elsewhere.” My tone left no room for argument.

She huffed but retreated, her six-inch heels clicking against the hardwood. I turned to the newcomer, close enough now to see the freckles scattered across her face and the tension in her jaw.

“The recruitment pitch gets old fast,” I said, not bothering with introductions yet. “You looking for someone specific, or just lost?”

Her eyes -- startlingly blue up close -- locked onto mine. “Do I look like the type that gets lost?”

Southern accent. Georgia, maybe. And an attitude I could feel from three feet away.

I smirked. “No, you look like the type that walks into a biker clubhouse alone on purpose. Which means you’re either crazy or have a death wish.”

“Or I can handle myself.” Her hand shifted slightly, drawing my attention to the slight bulge under her jacket. Carrying. Interesting.

“I don’t doubt it.” I gestured to the bartender for two more drinks. “But even the best fighters might think twice about a thirty-to-one ratio.”

The corner of her mouth twitched -- not quite a smile, but close. “Thirty? I counted fourteen, and half of them are too drunk to stand straight.”

I laughed, genuinely surprised. “You military?”

Something darkened in her expression. “Was.”

The bartender slid two whiskeys toward us. I pushed one her way. “I’m Rebel.”

She eyed the drink suspiciously. “Original.”

“Says the girl who hasn’t given her name at all.”

She picked up the glass, sniffed it, then took a small sip. Testing. “Rio.”

“Like the city?”

“Like the river. It flows where it wants to.”

I raised my glass in acknowledgment and took a swallow, feeling the burn hit my throat. “So what brings you to our humble establishment, Rio who flows where she wants to?”

Her eyes flicked around the room again, lingering on a group of Prospects playing pool. “Just passing through. Heard this was where the action is in this shithole town.”

“And what kind of action are you looking for?” I kept my tone neutral, but we both knew what the question implied in a place like this.

She met my gaze head-on, challenge sparking. “Not the kind you’re thinking.”

“You’d be surprised what I’m thinking.”

A commotion near the door drew our attention. Two Prospects escorting a belligerent drunk outside, his protests lost in the music. Rio’s hand had drifted back toward her concealed weapon, her body tensing for trouble.

“Relax,” I said, stepping slightly closer. “Just the usual Friday night housekeeping.”

“I don’t relax in places I don’t know with people I don’t trust,” she said, but her hand dropped back to her side.

I studied her for a moment -- the way she held herself, alert but not skittish. Dangerous but controlled. “Smart policy.”

Across the room, Charming’s gaze connected with mine, one silver eyebrow raised in silent question. I gave a subtle nod. Nothing to worry about. Yet.

“Your President’s watching,” Rio said without turning around. The observation impressed me -- she’d maintained awareness of the room without being obvious about it.

“He notices everything,” I confirmed. “Especially strangers with hidden weapons.”

 

About the Author

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

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

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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HUMAN WITHOUT END by CYMO #sciencefiction

 

Science Fiction

Date Published: May 2, 2025

 

 

From the decadence of the 80s to the cold, futuristic realm of biotech, “Human Without End” explores the coming age of the “augmented human,” an imminent technological revolution with uncertain consequences for our future. At the center of this speculative reality is the dreary figure of Norman Klein.

Over a period of 50 years, Norman witnesses the rise of Jay Cosberg, a tech billionaire who wants to discover the secret for eternal life. Their fates become intertwined through Norman’s cousin, Juliette, who becomes Jay Cosberg’s muse and marries him. Norman then becomes the unwilling witness to the couple’s history in which the lines between biology, love and technology begin to blur.

About the Author

Human Without End is CYMO’s first novel. The pseudonymous author is also a director of several films and documentaries, as well as a composer of numerous film scores.

 

Contact Link

BookBuzz

 

Purchase Link

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THE DARK SIDE by Angela Knight, Sierra Dafoe, Will Okati #LGBTQ+ #BDSM #ParanormalRomance @changelingpress

LGBTQ+, BDSM, Paranormal Romance

Date Published: May 16, 2025

 

Welcome to The Dark Side, where the line between love and lust blurs with dangerous passions.

The Dark One by Angela Knight

Matia of Ruza is one of the legendary Battlemaids -- a woman warrior who has taken an oath of celibacy in service of the Maid of Light. Kaska intends to make Matia the centerpiece in a sizzling erotic ritual in honor of his god.

Chain of Thorns by Will Okati

Riven finds himself trapped and enslaved by a powerfully seductive alien. Where is the line between fantasy and reality -- slavery and love?

BloodWolf by Sierra Dafoe

Centuries ago an ancient evil turned Baudouin Delacor into a beast for which there had never before been a name -- the BloodWolf. Delacor has only one hope left: that by destroying the succubus, he can free himself of its curse.

 

EXCERPT

Excerpt from The Dark One (Angela Knight)

 

Kaska of Artane slowed his stallion to an easy amble. Prince Britar's fortress lay a full day away, and he'd ridden poor Warbringer hard this past month. He knew the Prince awaited the intelligence he'd gathered as a spy in neighboring Trovan but laming his horse would serve no purpose.

Particularly with war on the horizon.

Besides, the last time Kaska had come this way, he'd had to battle the local brigands. Two fell to his blade before the rest fled, but that left five. And they might be in the mood for revenge. I don't care to ride headlong into an ambush.

"Whoreson bastards!" A woman's roar of fury brought Kaska's head up. He drew Warbringer to a prancing halt.

Swords clashed, interspaced with male taunts and laughter. The laughter had a distinctly ugly note. The woman swore again, an edge of grim desperation in her voice.

The thieves had found a new victim.

Kaska set his heels to Warbringer's flanks and thundered up the road toward the sound. Rounding the bend, he saw five men fighting a lone female traveler they'd managed to unhorse. He recognized the dented, rusted armor and unshaven faces; it was indeed the same band of thieves.

But their victim was no common woman. Her armor and sword marked her as a follower of the Maid of Light -- a female warrior. She was tall for a woman, with a lithe, muscular build and pretty breasts barely contained by her intricately embossed breastplate. Long black hair swirled around her face as she spun and hacked at her tormentors with a slim sword designed for a woman's hand.

One of the brigands already lay dead at her feet, but four others remained, odds too great even for one of the legendary Battlemaids.

A grin of sheer, savage joy spread across Kaska's face. With a howl, he drew the blade sheathed across his back and kicked Warbringer into a thundering charge.

The nearest of the brigands whirled too late. Kaska took his head with a single stroke.

Another of the men jumped at him, hacking for his thigh with an axe, but Kaska spun Warbringer aside and thrust his blade into the thief's chest. The man tumbled off the lethal point, gurgling out his life.

Meanwhile, the third brigand fell to the Battlemaid's sword. His head tumbled from his shoulders.

The fourth man looked from Kaska to the thieves' would-be victim, calculated the odds, and took to his heels.

Kaska snatched a dagger from his thigh sheath and hurled it at the coward with an expert flip of his wrist. The man went down, the blade buried to the hilt between his shoulder blades.

Scarcely breathing hard, Kaska turned to the maid. "Are you well?"

"Well enough." She studied him, her dark eyes level. There was a sharp and elegant beauty to her face, with its broad, high cheekbones and square little chin. Her lush mouth could inspire a monk to carnal fantasies.

"My thanks, warrior," she said at last in a low, husky voice, pushing the long black hair out of her face. "There were too many of them for me to best alone." She considered him, appraising the width of his chest and the strength of his sword arm. Female appreciation lit her gaze, mixed with a warrior's caution.

She had reason for that caution, for he meant to challenge her himself. He worshiped the Dark One, and his god relished nothing as much as the moans of a defeated Battlemaid.

Imagining the tight grip of her virgin ass, Kaska felt his cock swell behind his loincloth.

Give her time to rest, and then...

Of course, the maid might well kill him instead, but looking at her long legs and full, sweet breasts, Kaska thought it a chance well worth taking.

But as he opened his mouth to warn her of his intent, all color left the Battlemaid's face. Her eyes rolled up. Kaska threw himself from Warbringer's back as she collapsed in a heap.

Two long strides carried him to the maid's side. Dropping to one knee on the dusty road, Kaska began an anxious examination. He found no wounds on the front of her body, so he rolled her onto her back.

The maid groaned and lifted her head. "Wha --?"

"Seems one of your cur attackers landed a blow after all," he told her grimly. "There's a stab wound in your back just under your backplate, over your left hip."

"Aye," she said, letting her head fall. "One of them had a dagger."

"'Tis not deep, but it bleeds still," Kaska said. "I can treat it, if you permit."

"Aye," the maid said, breathing now in shallow pants. "My thanks."

Kaska nodded and rose to retrieve his pack of battlefield medicines from Warbringer. Well, he thought as he walked to his horse, I won't be challenging her any time soon. Not with that wound.

Later, perhaps. When he'd examined her, he'd noticed she had a truly delicious ass.

He wanted it.

 

About the Authors

Angela Knight:

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades, Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Sierra Dafoe:

An award-winning author who received three CAPA nominations in her first year of publishing, Sierra Dafoe has gone on to receive numerous awards and recommended reads for her work. Check her website for free stories, a link to her readers' group, sneak peeks, and all her latest news. Sign up for her newsletter to be entered in her monthly contest, and reach out through the "contact" page -- she loves hearing from her readers!

Will Okati:

Will Okati (formerly known as Willa) has lived through a few Interesting Times, but come out the other side a little grayer, a little wiser, and ready to get writing. Still as passionate about coffee, cats, and crafts as ever, but knowing that to your own self you must be true. Also still one of the quiet ones to watch out for, but life -- like storytelling -- is always a work in progress.

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

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Hawk by Marteeka Karland #MCromance @changelingpress

 

(Kiss of Death MC 3)

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: May 16, 2025

 

May God have mercy on Carrie’s enemies, because I have none.

Carrie -- When I stumble out of the fog into a motorcycle club compound, the guys seem more freaked out over my name (something about an old movie?) than the fact that I’m covered in blood and asking for a jug of sulfuric acid. Not my best moment. Then Hawk steps in. His smile and the careful way he takes care of me steal my heart. I’m asking for heartache, but my whole life has been nothing but pain and disappointment. Just this once, I want to take control, take what I want. And I want Hawk. No matter what happens when my family finds me.

Hawk -- I knew Carrie was trouble the second I laid eyes on her. Of course, she was covered in blood, so, easy call. What I didn’t count on is how completely and quickly I fell under her spell. I might not be ready to admit it, but my brothers know and plan accordingly. Carrie is mine. Even though she’s proven she can take care of herself, whatever trouble she has coming for her will have to go through me.

Warning: Graphic violence and adult content which may be triggers for some readers. As always, there is a happily ever after with no cheating.

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Marteeka Karland

 

The family reunion continued. Unfortunately, the women weren’t here. “Unfortunately” because I really wanted to see some fireworks tonight. Probably just as well because that feeling I had before was becoming an itch between my shoulder blades I couldn’t ignore.

I stood, acknowledging my brothers as I passed them on the way to the door. I stepped outside and took a deep breath. It was barely summer and already the air was humid and thick with moisture. I welcomed it, though. Inside our little corner of the city we’d created a haven of sorts. One whole city block in the center we turned into a small forest. In the center of that, was a park of sorts where we had a couple of vegetable gardens and several flowerbeds. Wasn’t a very “biker” thing to do, but it was peaceful. At one time or another, after getting out of prison, we all needed the relative quiet and solitude.

“What’s goin’ on, Hawk?” I looked over my shoulder to find Chains. He’d been my cellie for a while, and after I’d gotten out, he found me and brought me to Kiss of Death. We’d helped clean out the trash in the club when they’d picked a fight with the wrong club.

“Don’t know. Somethin’.”

Chains nodded as he stepped beside me. He leaned against the rail in front of the main clubhouse. Crumbled concrete, gravel, and dirt lined the paths that made up the “roads” in our territory. It looked exactly like what it was. A prison of our own making. Only this one was to keep the rest of the world away from us instead of the other way around.

“You got that feelin’ again?” Chains lit a cigarette, the flare of his lighter briefly illuminating the hard planes of his face. He’d been with me long enough to recognize when my instincts kicked in.

I nodded, scanning the perimeter of our compound. “Yeah. Like somethin’s comin’ our way.”

“Something or someone?”

“Fuck if I know.” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to shake the sensation. My instincts had saved my ass more times than I could count, both on the inside and out. When they started screaming like this, shit was about to go down.

We stood in silence for a few minutes, Chains smoking and me just watching the night. Our guard posts on top of each building were manned. Security lights flooding lights flooding the area close to our fencing provided a little extra protection for the buildings around us. If nothing else, the extra lighting made it easier for their own security cameras to get good imaging of whomever was trying to rip them off.

The sound of laughter and music drifting from the clubhouse behind us usually filled me with contentment. Tonight, it was an irritation. I needed to hear the night around me, to get an idea what was about to hit us.

I ducked under the railing and walked down the gravel path, not sure where I was going but needing to get away from the noise and light. Though the area around our compound was well lit, the interior was dark except for inside the various buildings. The paths between buildings and everything other than the center garden were covered in camo netting. We were as protected as we could be here. So why were my instincts screaming at me? The feeling got worse with each passing moment.

“Hawk?” Chains fell into step beside me, his gaze sweeping the area above the fence line. “You see somethin’?”

I didn’t answer. Wasn’t sure I could because with every second ticking by, my anxiety increased. It wasn’t late, but the high humidity and milder temperatures made the fog coming off the Cumberland River roll in thick as pea soup. Every breath in was heavy and wet, the water vapor tickling my nose. The security lights reflected back, making visibility very far outside our walls nearly impossible.

The moment I saw the small figure emerge from the thick mist, it felt like all the hair stood up on my body. It was definitely a woman, but there was something off about her. I took a step forward. Then another. I was stopped when Chains grabbed my arm.

“Easy, brother. That’s creepy as fuck and I don’t fuckin’ know…” He trailed off. Which is when I got my first good look at the woman, courtesy of the flood lights as she came closer. No mistaking she was heading straight for us with a purposeful stride. “Why’s she covered in mud?”

“Don’t think that’s mud, Hawk.” Chains puffed his chest out and called out to the would-be intruder. “Stop there, little miss. Private property and all that.”

She stopped directly in one spotlight so there was no mistaking her appearance and physical state. “That your blood?” Private property or not, need for secrecy and privacy or not, I absolutely would not deny a woman help who’d lost that much blood.

“What?” She had a confused look on her face, then looked down at herself. “Oh! That. Nah, not my blood. I’m good.” She gave me a bright smile and a big thumbs up. “But I’m kind of in a bit of a bind?” She actually looked like she was genuinely sorry to take up our time. Like she wasn’t covered in blood looking like something out of a horror movie.

I glanced over at Chains. His fists were clenched at his side, his eyes wide. Guy was superstitious as fuck, but I’d never seen him like this. Looking back to the woman, I started to answer when a light flashed over her blood-splattered face and I had to fight off a shudder. Never show weakness. It was a mantra that had served me well. Yet, here I was about to piss myself because of one tiny woman with a little blood on her. OK, so a lot of blood, but how did I know it was even blood? Might be fake blood. Might be animal blood, which was disturbing in itself. Maybe it was mud after all, and the lighting and mist were distorting the colors.

“Yeah, small bind.” She winced and held her thumb and finger an inch apart. “Very small. Almost nonexistent, except it’s not.” Her expression fell slightly. “Um, anyway. I gave the guys every chance to walk away. I swear.” Her eyes were almost comically wide. Like she was a kid trying to talk her parents out of a punishment for something she’d done.

“Gave who a chance to walk away?” The question tumbled from my lips without my consent. I didn’t need to know. Didn’t want to know. The less I knew the better. Ex-con and all. I saw Chains out of the corner of my eye. He gave me a sharp look, but didn’t say anything, either unwilling to show division or to stop the carnage he knew would follow. Yeah. We were sick bastards like that.

“Oh, the guys I stabbed.” She gave a slight, nervous laugh. “I wouldn’t have hurt either of them if one of them hadn’t pulled the knife after I broke the other guy’s leg. And I wouldn’t have broken his leg if he hadn’t tried to hit me.”

“Tried to hit you.” Could I sound any more stupid?

“Yeah. They were trying to rob me and I took exception.”

 

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 Contact Links

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

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

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Open Education by Matt Bowman and Isaac Morehouse #NonFiction #Education

How to Reimagine Learning, Ignite Curiosity, and Prepare Kids for Success

 

Nonfiction (Education)

Date Published: May 13, 2025

Publisher: Elite Online Publishing

 

The world is changing faster than ever before, and our education system is falling behind. As technology reshapes the way we live, work, and play, it's time to rethink how we educate our children for a future full of innovation and uncertainty. In Open Education, Matt Bowman and Isaac Morehouse challenge the outdated norms of traditional schooling and offer a bold vision for the future of learning—one that’s flexible, individualized, and designed to ignite a child’s natural curiosity.

For over a century, schools have been rigid in their approach:

- Grouping kids by age rather than ability

- Teaching at a standardized pace, ignoring individual needs

- Confining learning to strict schedules and physical classrooms

- Grading on an arbitrary A-F scale that doesn’t reflect real-world skills

But the future requires something different. Today’s job market values creativity, adaptability, and lifelong learning—qualities often stifled by conventional education. Matt and Isaac argue that children should be given more freedom and autonomy in their learning, allowing them to explore their interests, embrace failure as a stepping stone, and cultivate an entrepreneurial mindset that will serve them no matter where life takes them.

Open Education is your guide to reimagining the learning journey. If you're ready to break free from the one-size-fits-all approach, rekindle your child's love of learning, and prepare them for a rapidly changing world, this book will show you how.

Prepare your child for a future where thinking outside the box is the key to success.

Excerpt

STUDENTS AREN’T STANDARD

One evening, when our youngest daughter was about seven, she skipped into our bedroom just to tell us she was going to read a

book. As she skipped back out, I turned to my husband, Matt, and asked, “At what point does life take that skip out of you? When do we lose that pure joy in learning?” That question has stuck with me ever since.

Too often, I have seen how our traditional education system slowly replaces that natural joy with rigid expectations and standardized measures. As we raised our five children—all in the same home environment and with the same routines, house rules, and opportunities—we noticed something that every parent before us already knew: each child is profoundly different. But what struck me wasn’t just their different personalities or interests, it was how differently each one learned and developed.

Like many parents, we started with traditional approaches. I volunteered at the local public school and ran the book fair. Matt coached every sport until our kids were teenagers. We did all the “right” things. But our perspective began to shift when our oldest son wanted to transfer to a brand-new charter school, something almost unheard of in our community at the time. Back then, leaving your assigned district school was seen as a rejection of public education. The pushback was immediate. “What are you doing?” people asked. “Do you even understand what you’re giving up?”

We were more concerned about our child feeling validated and successful than following the expected path. Each year we asked if he wanted to return to his district school. He chose to stay, and he thrived. Later, when our younger children reached the same age, they chose a different path entirely. Each choice was different, but each was right for that child.

During this time, we sat down with a calculator and made a startling discovery. Our children spent about seven hours a day in school for 180 days, roughly 1,260 hours per year. That left 2,390 hours of potential learning time at home. The math was undeniable. Time spent outside the classroom matters. Parents are ultimately their children’s primary educators, whether they plan for it or not. This realization led us to ask a bigger question. If our own children need more flexible, personalized education options, how many other families face the same challenge?

In 2009, we created My Tech High (now OpenEd) to help students access different classes, resources, and opportunities that spoke to their individual interests and learning styles. Years later, our conviction about personalized learning was reinforced in a deeply personal way. One of our sons was everything the public school system could want. He was a student body officer, a top varsity athlete in multiple sports, and he earned excellent grades. He was well-rounded, well-liked, and loved to learn.

Yet, when it came time to take the ACT, he consistently scored below what colleges expected, despite multiple attempts.

Watching him pour his heart and soul into studying, only to feel crushed by the results again and again, confirmed what we already knew. Standardized testing measurements can never capture a child’s true potential nor accurately reflect what they have learned.

During this journey, I felt God speaking to me, helping me understand something crucial: God is the author of diversity. A child’s learning style isn’t a flaw to be corrected by the system, it’s a divine design to be celebrated. Each child’s unique way of learning is beautiful, intentional, and worthy of honor. This understanding transformed how we saw education itself.

One year, we were excited to see several OpenEd students  earn their associate degree before they turned eighteen. Matt suggested we might want to host an event to celebrate this major accomplishment. I asked him, “Who decides which achievements are worthy of celebration? Why not host an event to celebrate  students who started their own business, or mastered a musical  instrument, or achieved their academic goals in their own personal way through art, dance, sports, or an industry certification?” 

We’ve been guided by this perspective ever since. Today, at various in-person OpenEd events, parents I have never met approach me with tears in their eyes, grateful that their children finally have the freedom to learn in ways that work for them. I’ll never forget one parent who shared with me that her eight-year-old son was deeply discouraged. He was profoundly gifted in science and was convinced he had learned everything there was to know. He believed his local school had no more challenges to offer him. When he was given the opportunity to attend a college physics class with his grandfather, the professor opened his eyes to ongoing discoveries in quantum mechanics and dark matter. His natural curiosity reignited, and he realized that human knowledge wasn’t finite. We’re all still learning, still discovering. This changed his life forever.

As a teenager, my father encouraged me to become an expert in something people would seek out. I struggled with that advice as I thought every field of expertise was already claimed. Now I see the irony. Through building OpenEd, I have been fortunate to become an expert in finding ways to help families trust their instincts about their children’s education. Today, even as two of our own children are public school teachers, we understand that education isn’t about choosing between traditional and alternative approaches, it’s about having the confidence to combine different learning opportunities in ways that work for your unique child. That’s Open Education.

This book offers a roadmap for that journey. Matt and Isaac break down the practical insights and systematic approach we’ve developed over fifteen years of working with families who want more for their children. The tools to build something better are already in your hands, and they’re simpler to adopt than you might think.

– Amy Bowman, Co-founder, OpenEd, mother of five children (all married), Grammy to four grandchildren

About Matt Bowman

Matt Bowman is an innovator in education and technology, and is deeply dedicated to transforming the way children learn. He and his wife, Amy founded OpenEd together, and the Bowmans have spent over three decades championing personalized education, combining cutting-edge technology with an entrepreneurial spirit to help students thrive in a rapidly changing world. Matt and Amy focus every day on empowering young learners by offering them the tools and flexibility to pursue their passions and develop the skills necessary for future success.

A former sixth-grade teacher and tech executive, Matt has been at the forefront of online education since the 1990s. He holds a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree in education, and is an alumnus of Stanford’s Executive Business Management program. In addition to his professional accomplishments, Matt has been a speaker and panelist at numerous educational and technology conferences. His insights into the future of education have been sought after by educators and industry leaders alike.

The Bowmans’ unique approach to education has earned them recognition across the country, with OpenEd collectively serving more than 100,000 student enrollments over the years across multiple states, including many military families worldwide. Their work is driven by their core belief that “Learning happens inside learners, not inside classrooms.”

Matt and Amy live in the mountains of Utah, where they enjoy spending time with their five adult children and their spouses, plus four grandchildren (and counting). They continue to explore new ways to innovate within the educational landscape to help all children access the resources to help them be successful, today and in the future.

About Isaac Morehouse

Isaac Morehouse is the CEO of OpenEd, working to open up all education options to all learners. He has founded and built several companies, served as a CEO and CMO, and loves rallying people around a vision and building teams to do the things he can’t.

Isaac is dedicated to the relentless pursuit of freedom and is deeply passionate about education and entrepreneurship. He loves writing, music, his wife Heather and four kids, a good cigar, and getting angry about sports (especially the Detroit Lions).

He has given hundreds of talks and interviews, authored, co-authored, or ghostwritten over 3,000 articles and twelve books, helped thousands of people launch their careers, and dozens of businesses tell their stories. He is a firm believer in learning out loud and making a daily commitment to creation in all forms. He currently lives with his family in Bradenton, Florida.

 

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