Jack and Gil by Emily Carrington #LGBTQ #ParanormalRomance @changelingpress

LGBTQ, Paranormal Romance, Shifters

Date Published: June 27, 2025

Gilbert Sullivan, crown prince of the basilisks, hates his name, but he fears the rhyme may be prophecy.

 

Rhyme of Longing (Jack & Gil 1): When Prince Gilbert Sullivan meets Jack Sowerby, the new head of SearchLight, his attraction won’t let him stay away. Jack’s need for Prince Gilbert blossoms and he’s unable to resist -- until he’s forcibly changed into a magical creature. Will their shattered relationship ever be restored?

 

Rhyme of Longing (Jack & Gil 2)

Jack is falling apart, but no one seems to notice. As Jack withdraws, the tide of war rises. Jack must find a way to regain his strength and determination or SearchLight will fall. And he’s convinced he must do it alone.

 

Rhyme of Love (Jack & Gil 3)

Gil struggles to hide his loss of status from Jack, but when he finally confesses, Jack blurts out his secret. Jack knows he screwed up. Well, almost. Running the risk of losing Gil, Jack must learn to lie convincingly, or he’ll lose SearchLight, his life, and Gil, as well.

 

Excerpt from Rhyme of Longing

 

Jack wanted so badly to be done with this night that he felt uncomfortable in his skin. That was not the proper way to begin thinking about his sixty-eighth birthday, his five-year anniversary as the head of SearchLight Academy. This was a party for both those things but no one said “no” to Agent Weinberg.

Not necessarily the most powerful magical being in the world, she was still the head of the entire organization. Even though she held the nominal title of “head of Public Relations,” SearchLight’s whole reason for existing was to protect the relationship between magical and nonmagical peoples. Which was, of course, officially, no relationship at all. SearchLight was a secret and must remain so.

The influence she held would make most magical creatures bow in submission. Jack, being merely human, was suitably impressed. And although as yet not cowed, he was too fond of his life to waste it needlessly. Not that Agent Weinberg had killed anyone. Recently.

Jack took a deep breath in through his nose as the limousine pulled up to the curb. He’d been commanded to take this limo and the implicit service of a driver, and although he hadn’t enjoyed it particularly, he was glad that he hadn’t needed to find a place to park in downtown Washington, DC. So, unsure if he was supposed to tip the driver but wanting to show his appreciation, he stepped around to the driver’s side after the car was parked at the curb and offered the person behind the wheel, whom, his telepathic sense, told him wasn’t human, ten dollars.

“Would you be trying to bribe me to take you home, Agent Sowerby?”

Jack saw the humor in the green eyes turned up to his and smiled. “Never in life,” he told the Irish-sounding sprite or Faery or leprechaun. Damn, sometimes he wished for a werewolf’s sense of smell so he’d know the magical creatures around him at once.

“You’re a good man, Agent Sowerby. Don’t let her bully you now.” And with that, he winked and rolled up his window. Jack stepped around the car to the sidewalk and watched the limo drive away.

“Hey there.” The voice was soft, lightly accented, and full of a syrupy, sarcastic undertone that put Jack’s hackles up. He turned more slowly than he could have, wanting to appear older and so less threatening. He gazed at the three people facing him and saw they were all armed.

He was aware of others watching from the doorway of the restaurant but knew they wouldn’t intercede unless it became obvious he couldn’t handle himself. That was one thing about Agent Weinberg he didn’t like much. She believed in the “sink or swim” philosophy.

The woman who’d spoken was smiling in a particularly condescending way. “Got a handout for me?” She twirled the knife in her right hand as she reached out with her left for the ten spot Jack still held.

Jack offered it, keeping a good distance from her, forcing her to step forward to take the bill. He was aware of the other two moving to flank him. He disliked using his telepathic sense against what he considered to be defenseless people, magical or mundane, and yet he wouldn’t risk his own life to preserve theirs. “I suggest you take this and be on your way,” he said softly, putting a slight psychic push into the words. He blanketed the area with his calming presence, lacking the ability to focus on more than two people at once. Both of the men who’d been flanking him stopped. One of them shook his head but the other was definitely under Jack’s control.

“Back off,” Jack said and watched the woman lower her knife a little.

She snatched at the bill and her knife hand flicked upward.

Jack dropped the ten spot and caught her wrist. The knife’s blade skidded across the waterproof material of his trench coat. He forced her to drop the knife as he said, “Go away.”

The man under his control turned and fled. But the other lunged at Jack. Yanking the woman close, Jack used her as a shield. The other man’s blade slid between her ribs. He swore, stumbling back, and lost his grip on his knife. As he turned to flee, Jack lowered the woman to the ground. He shouted, “Someone call nine-one-one.”

Someone joined him out on the sidewalk. It wasn’t Agent Weinberg. It wasn’t a SearchLight agent he knew. There was regal bearing in the other’s posture as he crouched beside Jack. “Let me heal her.”

Jack didn’t protest, although he did skate his telepathic sense outward to determine if this was a magical creature. The fact that he’d said “heal” rather than “help” argued for him not being human. He came into contact with an impenetrable psychic wall and winced as his telepathic sense bounced off. Well, there weren’t all that many humans who could resist even his most casual reach. Ergo, this was a magical creature.

Jack nodded and said, “Go ahead.” He retreated inside his own head and as he pulled out his cell phone, unwilling to trust to others to call for help, he watched the broad-shouldered male beside him spit into his hand and press the palm against the wound even as he pulled the knife free.

Dragon, Jack thought. Dragons could heal with their saliva or a blood exchange. But this wasn’t a dragon Jack knew.

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

 

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HAMMER by Harley Wylde #MCromance @changelingpress

 

(Dixie Reapers MC)

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: June 27, 2025

 

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

 

EXCERPT

 

Amelia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ve been careful.”

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

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

 

About the Author

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

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

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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Wild in Minnesota by Mary Lee Painter #RomanticComedy

 

Romantic Comedy

Date Published: June 23, 2025

 

The last place Fern wants to be his back home as the Maid of Honor in her cousin's wedding. She's at a cabin by herself for a few days getting ready for the bachelor/bachelorette weekend, when rough and tough Gabe bursts through the door in the middle of the night. Thinking he's an intruder she starts throwing punches resulting in a brawl in the kitchen. She then learns he's a NHL hockey player and teammate of her brother's.

Fern doubts every Instinct she has due to her terrible past life choices. With an undeniable spark between the two, they hatch up a " weekend pass" option allowing her a few days with the wild one while keeping her heart intact. But after the crazy wedding party weekend including a high-speed chase, Fern overhears a shocking conversation and bolts. Gabe persuades her for another chance at the same time her brother finds out and all hell breaks loose.

After an unexpected twist and a decision that ends with her bringing a fake date to the wedding, her cousin disappears. Fern has no option but to turn to Gabe to help her locate the missing bride.

About the Author

Mary Lee Painter resides in Omaha Nebraska with her family. She is the author of Wild in Minnesota as well as the romcom The Other Fork in the Road on Amazon or barnesandnoble.com. Mary Lee has her first YA novel entitled Worst Idea Ever which will be published by Melange Books in February 2026, and adult romcom called Ding Dong, I'm home in July of 2026. She also has an adult rom-com entitled Quarterback Blitz that would be released in February of 2027.

Mary Lee loves Minnesota Wild Hockey, hanging with family, and Dove chocolate.

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Innocent & Sweet by Megan Slayer #NewAdult #Romance @changelingpress

 

Contemporary New Adult Romance

Date Published: June 20, 2025

 

Anissa Dunn wants one man -- Kameron. He’s got looks, brains and a boatload of attitude… and all that muscle. A girl can only take so much, and he's her heart's desire. She’s not afraid to give as good as she gets and she wants him to be her teacher in all things carnal.

There's only one catch -- he's her bodyguard and the rules state she can't date the staff.

But rules are meant to be broken…

 

EXCERPT

I will make him notice me. Anissa adjusted her dress. The cherry-red halter frock hung on her thin frame. So much for the correct fit. She sighed. No matter what she did, she couldn't put on weight. She debated what to add to improve her figure. If she wore the leather jacket, she'd appear edgy. The clunky boots helped increase her height, so she was fine there. But her bust... drat. She peered down at her chest. A wave of nausea hit her as she thought about her dating past. Guys didn't want to date a woman with a flat chest -- or so they'd told her.

She spied the gel bra cups she'd bought during her last trip to the fabric store. If she had boobs, maybe the guy of her dreams would finally notice her. He had to.

Anissa stuffed the chilly padding beneath the cups of her dress. Her boobs looked huge. Instead of the burst of confidence she'd expected, she hated her reflection in the mirror. The additions didn't fit her frame. But she had a date and no choice but to do her best to entice him. If fake boobs worked, then fine. She'd take her chances.

She donned the jacket, then grabbed her purse and hurried downstairs.

Kam stood in the foyer. He wore the same battered leather jacket, faded jeans and dark sunglasses as he always did. He touched his earpiece. "In position."

Her heart fluttered. Kameron Stone personified sex in human form. Her nipples ached, and she pressed her knees together. She'd never been with a man and wanted Kam to be her first. If she had her way, he'd be her only.

Would he fuck her?

Better yet, would he love her the way she loved him?

"I have the package," Kam said. "Preparing to leave."

She frowned. The package. She didn't have the honor of being referred to by her name. Gaining his attention wasn't going to be easy. "I'm ready."

Kam nodded. "This way, Ms. Dunn."

"Anissa." He'd used her last name. Dang it. She'd pleaded with him so many times to call her by her first name. Ms. Dunn was her mother. She was just Anissa.

"Ms. Dunn." Kam escorted her to the front porch, then down the steps. He opened the passenger door of the limo. "After you."

"Thanks." She couldn't leave the house without her trusty bodyguard, Kam. She settled on the seat and folded her hands on her lap. Kam would do anything to protect her, and she trusted him, but she was twenty-one and her father needed to put some faith in her. He'd sheltered her from everything. She didn't resent him for trying -- when she turned twenty-five, she'd come into a hefty sum of cash via the trust her mother had left her, but still. She'd gone to an all-girls college, a private all-girls high school and never spent more than a few hours on her own. She crossed her legs, and her skirt rode high on her leg. Did Kam notice? Did he care?

She swept her gaze over him as he sat beside her. Strong and silent. He wore his clothes like a second skin, could eviscerate anyone who tried to get too close, but Kam said so little. Half the time she had no idea if he listened to her. Knowing him, he tuned her out.

"Kam?" She shifted in her seat to face him. Her skirt rode higher. He didn't pay her any attention, which rankled her. "Kameron."

"Ms. Dunn." He seemed to stare straight ahead.

She whipped out her phone. She couldn't go through with the date. Not now. She sent a text to the driver, requesting he stay in the driveway. She'd sent the itinerary to the security team but saw no point in leaving the house. Kam wasn't paying attention to her -- not in the way she wanted. He didn't seem to care.

She sighed. According to the magazines she'd bought, her college roommate and the dirty movies she'd watched in the middle of the night, she had to be aggressive and demand what she wanted. Sure... she could be aggressive. She could demand his attention. But she wasn't sure how.

Anissa switched seats to face Kam. The car rolled to a stop, most likely in front of the house. She parted her legs and leaned back. "Kam."

If he looked at her, she couldn't tell.

"Ms. Dunn?" Kam tensed, and the muscle in his jaw twitched. "Are you okay?"

Nope. He hadn't noticed her lousy attempts to entice him.

"I'm fine," she mumbled. What a liar..."I'd like to talk to you."

"Of course."

He had to make this hard. Fine. She'd be tough. "Did you know where we're going?"

"I do. I've been informed you're to visit Ahuja Cancer Center for the opening of their pediatric wing," Kam said. "Would you like to change?"

The opening of the pediatric wing? She'd never seen that request. "Since when?" Irritation filled her brain. If she'd known she had a real date, she wouldn't have dressed like a streetwalker.

"Your father amended the plans for this evening." Kam's tone remained annoyingly flat. "You're dressed a bit... inappropriately for the event. You should consider a more conservative outfit."

Damn. She shrugged out of her coat. Men wanted blunt, didn't they? She squared her shoulders, then straddled his lap. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. Holy hell. Sitting on his thighs reminded her of being on a bench -- so strong and hard... sturdy. Her nerve endings tingled. What would her stern bodyguard do if she flashed him? Of if she embraced her bold side and stretched across his lap, demanding a spanking? The women in those videos liked being spanked. The idea of having her ass reddened intrigued her. She'd never asked for punishment in her life, but she wanted Kam to dish some out -- right now. She shrugged out of the jacket.

"Ms. Dunn." Kam's tone hitched a bit, but his expression remained blank.

She removed his sunglasses. Looking into his eyes was much better -- and scary as hell. She pursed her lips. Was she coming across as sexy? Shoot. Now she wished she'd left his sunglasses in place so she could use the reflection. Too late now. She licked her lips. If she was going to make a move, she needed to do it already. She draped her arms around his neck. "I need you to help me."

 

About the Author

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

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A Deceptive Game Ensues by Sophie Barnes #Romance #Thriller #Giveaway

 

House of Croft, Book 4

Historical Mystery / Thriller / Romance

Date Published: 06-17-2025

An unexpected menace threatens their newfound freedom…

Acquitted of the crime he was accused of, Adrian Croft begins an investigation that could link a duke to his sister's death. But with a fresh series of murders leading straight to Saint George's Hospital, Adrian is torn between his quest for revenge and the need to catch an active killer. For though he may have sworn to yield his power in order to gain a pardon, all bets are off when villains threaten his city.

Having proven her unfailing loyalty to her husband, Samantha Croft settles into married life - an idyl that quickly crumbles when she and Adrian get caught up in a new series of murders. As they follow a trail that leads them through subterranean tunnels and to a secret organization, they face another threat too: a ghost from Adrian's past who's about to bring war to their doorstep.

About the Author

 

 USA TODAY bestselling author Sophie Barnes writes historical romance novels in which the characters break away from social expectations in their quest for happiness and love. Having written for Avon, an imprint of Harper Collins, her books have been published internationally in eight languages. With a fondness for travel, Sophie has lived in six countries, on three continents, and speaks English, Danish, French, Spanish, and Romanian with varying degrees of fluency. Ever the romantic, she married the same man three times—in three different countries and in three different dresses.

When she’s not busy dreaming up her next swoon worthy romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, practicing yoga, baking, gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading.

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RIOT by Marteeka Karland #MCromance @changelingpress

 

(Kiss of Death MC)

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: June 20, 2025

Violet Harrington has a haunted look about her that pulls at my protective instincts like nothing has in a long time.

 

Violet -- In my world, girls aren’t deemed useful for much other than to be married off, creating a tie to a rival family. I did my job. I married the man my family chose, and I got pregnant right away. Now my life is a nightmare, wondering if this is the day someone will kill me, or worse, take my son. When Caleb witnesses the abuse I live with, he gives me an ultimatum. Leave his father, or Caleb will kill the man himself. That’s when my lawyer introduces me to Quinn Devereaux, the man known as Riot. He asks me a question I’ve never heard before. What do you need, Violet?

Riot -- I was gone the first moment I laid eyes on the tiny woman with the suspicious twelve-year-old guarding her like a pit bull. She’s my service requirement assignment -- to protect her and her kid from her husband and father. Domestic abuse is never pretty, but her story hits way too close to home. I’ll watch over them, and in the end, I’ll do whatever it takes to prevent history from repeating itself. Even if it means I risk going back to prison.

 

Warning: Riot (Kiss of Death MC 4) deals with issues of domestic abuse that may be triggers for some readers.

EXCERPT

 

Riot

Community service. What a fucking joke. I appreciated the fact I needed to pay my debt to society. I did bad shit and deserved everything the judge gave me and then some. Knuckles pulled some strings and got me out on parole three years earlier than expected, and it had come with mandatory community service. My lawyer told me Knuckles had friends in high places and not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I understood. I also knew how to keep my mouth shut so I had no intention of finding out anything more.

I’d only been out of prison three days. Now they expected me to go back to the courthouse. Voluntarily. I didn’t know why, only that it had to do with the aforementioned community service.

It was three o’clock on Friday afternoon. My instructions were to wait outside in a specific area. Which wasn’t suspicious at all. I parked my bike under a tree at the back of the building and waited. As a condition of my parole, I had to carry a cell phone on me at all times. I had no trouble a phone on me. The last thing I wanted was to go back to jail, so if being tied to the fucking phone meant the powers that be could track my every move, so fucking be it.

I had to chuckle. I wanted to stay out of prison, yet I was all in with Knuckles and Kiss of Death MC. An outlaw club by their own admission. Yeah, I was new and didn’t know all the guys yet, but there were two things we all had in common. First, we’d all spent time in Terre Haute. Some more than others. And second, we all knew and trusted Knuckles with our lives. Knuckles had the keys to the yard in Terre Haute. He’d been the shot caller on the inside. I thought he probably had more power in prison than most people did on the outside. If he said he could keep me safe from the probation officers with an ax to grind, I’d do what he said, when he said do it, and count my blessings.

The point being, Knuckles was the one who set me up with this particular lawyer. She’d represented me at my parole hearing and she was the one who demanded my presence at the courthouse today. Knuckles said do what she said to the best of my ability and without objection. The details were supposed to be given to me when we met up. Apparently, this was a rush job or something. Knuckles said she’d made a point for me to wear my colors and ride my bike. Jeans, black T-shirt, motorcycle boots, and my cut proudly proclaiming I’m a member of Kiss of Death MC and that we were a one percent club. I personally didn’t like this idea, but Knuckles told me not to worry. He’d kept my ass alive in prison. Just like he had most of the other guys. No way would he toss me to the wolves now.

I glanced at my watch. Five after three. She’d told me three o’clock sharp, but I’m just the ex-con biker. What did I know about being on time?

At ten after, a little white Ford Fiesta pulled up next to me. I was leaning against the seat of my parked bike, my legs crossed at the ankles and my arms crossed over my chest. Classic badass biker intimidation pose. The windows were tinted on all sides except the front. I couldn’t see the passengers but I recognized the woman who got out of the driver’s side.

“Ms. Thompson. Wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.” I wasn’t lying. Knuckles had explained everything to me on the way to Nashville from Terre Haute, but I thought I’d have a little time to process life on the outside before I got shoved back into the legal system.

“Nothing’s free in this world, Riot. You know that.” Lana Thompson was an in-your-face powerhouse. She wasn’t the sneak attack you didn’t see coming. She was the mortar fire you heard half a mile away and hurried to get the fuck out of the blast zone.

“And it shouldn’t be. I ain’t complainin’. I just wasn’t expecting my point of contact to be you.”

She gave me a superior smirk. “Oh, you and I will see a lot more of each other, I assure you. I’m the reason you’re out, you know. Well…” She shrugged. “Me and my other employer. He pays me. Knuckles gets his people.”

“Impressive. Do I want to know who your other employer is?”

“Probably not. In any case, I wouldn’t tell you. You want to know shit like that, talk to Knuckles.”

“Yeah. I’m good.” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “When I asked my parole officer about my community service, he said someone would contact me. No one has. You sure this is countin’ toward my community service?”

“Who told you to meet me here?”

“Knuckles.”

She grinned. “Looks like you have your answer.”

“I’m not sure Knuckles counts?”

“You said your parole officer told you someone would contact me. He say who?” I could tell by the look on her face she knew the answer to this question but I was committed now.

“He said to do whatever the fuck Knuckles told me to.”

“Uh huh.”

“You know, people would like you better if you weren’t so smug.” I wanted to be irritated at the woman, but really, her making fun of me was my own fault. The joke practically wrote itself. I raised my hands defensively. “Knuckles told me to be here and I’m here. I was told three o’clock sharp.” I gave her a pointed glance, then down at my watch.

“Yeah,” she breathed with a sigh. “Sorry about that. Poor thing’s balking hard.” She nodded to the vehicle and her passengers. “Her son and I had to coax her into letting him do this and we still had to practically drag her into the car.”

That got my attention. “What’s going on? What is it I need to do?” Something inside me coiled tight. I knew without a doubt something was about to happen that would change my life. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to pay attention because I was about to get knocked on my ass.

“My client is about to testify that his father beat his mother. Kid knows his mom is the underdog in this fight. His father’s a big shot with a whole team of lawyers and she’s got me.” She grinned, but that feeling in the pit of my stomach was getting stronger by the second. “Caleb is a good kid. He’s so protective of his mother it almost hurts. If his father gets Caleb alone, Caleb will do his level best to kill the guy.”

I gave her a hard look for long moments, replaying her words to make sure I’d heard her correctly. The weight of everything she was saying was hitting me like a wrecking ball to the fucking head. This woman had chosen me for more than one reason. “You fuckin’ bitch,” I bit out. “Only reason I don’t kill you right here is because it’s not worth goin’ back to prison.”

“Good!” Bitch Thompson, as I would now refer to her, said with wide-eyed enthusiasm. “You don’t want to go back to prison. That’s great! But the only way you stay out of prison is by doing your community service, big guy, and this is it.”

“Why? Why me? There’s got to be hundreds of other people you could use for this.”

“You don’t even know what I want you to do yet.”

“Got a pretty fuckin’ good idea. Is this supposed to make me feel better about what happened and about what I did?”

Instantly, Lana Thompson was in my face. This was the side of her everyone in the courtroom feared seeing. She’d used the same expression and tone of voice at my parole hearing as she was using now. Only this time, she grabbed a hold of my ear and yanked, twisting my earlobe painfully. Sure, I could have made her stop. I could have seriously hurt her. But I didn’t hit women. Not for any reason.

“No. It’s not supposed to make you feel better. It’s supposed to keep that young man out of fucking prison. Now. What are you going to do about this situation, hmm?” Lana’s voice was silky smooth as she purred in a supremely satisfied voice.

“The fuck kind of question is that? Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

“Can’t you get out of a simple ear hold from a woman half your size?”

“Lana, what the fuck’s your problem? I could fuckin’ break you in half and you fuckin’ know it!” I felt like I was the butt of some joke I didn’t get.

“Exactly!” I thought she might let me go, but she didn’t. Instead, she twisted harder and I had to lean down to keep her from taking my fucking ear off. “You’ll stand there and let me hurt you rather than take a chance on hurting me.” Yep. Definitely the butt of the joke.

“What the fuck do you want me to do?” I snarled my question at her. “I ain’t gonna hit you. I don’t hit women. Or kids. Now, let go of my fuckin’ ear!”

To my surprise, she let me go and stepped back, grinning from ear to ear. “Which was my whole point.” She called out to whoever was in the car. “You see? Come on out.”

I rubbed my ear, trying to get blood moving again as well as ease the ache. As I was working up to a scathing remark to Lana, the doors to the car opened and a boy of about eleven or twelve got out of the back while a short, slender woman emerged from the front. She wasn’t much taller than the boy and it was a tossup as to who weighed more.

My heart thumped painfully in my chest and I froze. She had short, shaggy curls in a riot of orange around her head and skin as creamy as milk. Her eyes were the palest blue I’d ever seen and almost too big for her face. But what had me wanting to howl in rage, what had me ready to murder some motherfucking son of a bitch, was the bruise across her cheek, the finger-mark bruises on her bare arms, and the cut on her lower lip that stood out like an accusation.

I swallowed as I stood to my full height, still rubbing my ear absently. The kid moved in front of his mother but stood his ground.

“See, Violet? This isn’t a man who’s going to hurt you.”

“What do you need?” My gaze bore straight into Violet’s, trying to pull the information I wanted out of her head so I could go kill someone. Déjà vu but I didn’t care. I’d charge hell with a water pistol and damned the consequences if this woman said to.

“I-I just w-wanted someone strong to be here to support my s-son.” Her voice was melodious and soft. Like an angel whispering. She was obviously nervous, that didn’t make her any less beautiful or courageous. “M-my husband can be…” she trailed off.

“Where do you need me, Ms. Violet?” Because, parole or not, there was no way I was leaving this woman to deal with some asshole on her own.

 

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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Love's Bloom by Judith Keim ~ Romantic Women's Fiction

Romantic Women's Fiction 

Date Published: June 9, 2025

 

Love can make even the most fragile person bloom.

Misty Owen escapes Florida and comes home to Lilac Lake following a disastrous relationship with an emotionally and physically abusive man. David Graham runs a landscaping business with his father and has created a memorial park in town for his sister who died in cancer. Kind, gentle, he is the sort of man Misty can’t help being attracted to. But until she heals from her past, how can she move forward? She knows it’s going to take someone like David to help her, but he’s content to be just friends. When gifts of flowers start to arrive with more than friendship, Misty discovers that sometimes love blooms in the sweetest ways possible.

A spinoff book from the Lilac Lake Inn series, a sweet second-chance, small-town romance. Another of Judith Keim’s books with strong women facing challenges and finding love and happiness along the way.

About the Author

Judith Keim, A USA Today Best-Selling Author, is a hybrid author who both has a publisher and self-publishes. Ms. Keim writes heart-warming novels about women who face unexpected challenges, meet them with strength, and find love and happiness along the way, stories with heart. Her best-selling books are based, in part, on many of the places she's lived or visited and on the interesting people she's met, creating believable characters and realistic settings her many loyal readers love.

She enjoyed her childhood and young-adult years in Elmira, New York, and now makes her home in Boise, Idaho, with her husband and their adorable dachshund, Wally, and other members of her family.

While growing up, she loved the idea of writing stories from a young age. Books were always present, being read, ready to go back to the library, or about to be discovered. All in her family shared information from the books in general conversation, giving them a wealth of knowledge and vivid imaginations.

Ms. Keim loves to hear from her readers and appreciates their enthusiasm for her stories.

 

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Kill Beth by Jon Cohn #Horror #PsychologicalThriller

Horror/Psychological

Date Published: June 12, 2025

Publisher: Deadbolt Books

After a horrific incident fifteen years ago, theater director Mike O’Brien never planned to return to Seattle. But when his estranged best friend sends him a script he can’t ignore, Mike finds himself back in the city with a spotlight on his troubled past.

As rehearsals begin, so do the nightmares. Strange figures keep him up at night, the production is plagued by one horrific accident after another, and everywhere he goes he can’t help but see the same message: Kill Beth. The strange thing is, Mike doesn’t know anyone named Beth, or how he could ever be capable of killing anyone.

When his world descends into chaos, Mike has to ask if he’s being haunted by his past, or if there is some sinister force working behind the curtain to derail his life.

About the Author

Jon Cohn is a horror novelist and professional board game designer. His works include 2024 Indie Book Brawl Quarter-Finalist Slashtag, and the much less popular, but award winning novel The Island Mother. He gets his best ideas from a tarot reader who lives in Hawaii.

As a designer, Jon is very excited to finally be able to merge horror books and board games together by bringing Ghostland to life as a board game, coming to Kickstarter. He’s also designed games like Thanksgiving, co-designed with Eli Roth, Basket Case and Taboo Horror.

Order autographed books, and get updates for new games and upcoming novels at www.joncohnauthor.com. Sign up for Jon’s newsletter for free short stories and games, and follow at @joncohnauthor on Facebook, Instagram and TikTok .

Jon lives in San Diego with his supernaturally patient wifeDelaney, and their adorable dog, Miss Cordelia Chase.

He would also love to give you free stuff like stories, audiobooks, and games by signing up for his mailing list at www.joncohnauthor.com.

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2077 by Ariel Oo #ScienceFiction

 

Science Fiction

Date Published: 05-07-2025

Publisher: Talk+Tell

The year is 2077, the Age of Glory. Humanity lives in harmony, shaped by an AI merging magnetism and intentions. The Magnetic Intelligence.

An exciting new global experiment atop The Great Pyramid draws in the world to wake up Elizabeth, a girl lost in a coma. When eyes open.....

....A Dewic word -spoken, forgotten, remembered- fractures Magnetic Intelligence. Every intention, every twisted emotion, e v e r y d a m n w o r d s p o k e n i n M a g n e t a, becomes a loaded gun.

The Age of Glory is shattered to pieces.

Now what?

 

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SHOPPING FOR A HIGHLANDER’S ELOPEMENT by Julia Kent #RomanticComedy

 

Shopping for a Highlander’s Elopement is a romantic comedy that blends the worlds of four bestselling series by New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent:

 - Shopping for a Billionaire

- Shopping for a Highlander

- Whatever It Takes

- Love You, Maine

If you love sports romance, surprise proposals, grand gestures, chaotic weddings, Scottish footballers, golden retriever/black cat energy, and characters who love too hard, mess up spectacularly, and always find their way back to each other with plenty of laughter (and lovingly-used scrunchies) along the way, then this is your book.

Description:

I didn’t expect to fall for a Scottish footballer so annoyingly sunny you need shades to be around him. I didn’t expect to say yes to his heart-felt, if loopy, proposal while he lay injured on the pitch in front of forty thousand fans. What I definitely didn’t expect? For our engagement to explode into a paparazzi circus, our mothers to turn into wedding bulldozers, and for our wedding protector's perfectly reasonable elopement plan to spiral into a road trip escape.

Links: 

Amazon US:  https://www.amazon.com/Shopping-Highlanders-Elopement-Julia-Kent-ebook/dp/B0DM3CR6M4

Amazon UK:  https://www.amazon.co.uk/Shopping-Highlanders-Elopement-Julia-Kent-ebook/dp/B0DM3CR6M4

Amazon AU:  https://www.amazon.com.au/Shopping-Highlanders-Elopement-Julia-Kent-ebook/dp/B0DM3CR6M4/

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Apple Books:  https://books.apple.com/us/book/shopping-for-a-highlanders-elopement/id6737852494

Kobo:  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/shopping-for-a-highlander-s-elopement

Nook:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shopping-for-a-highlanders-elopement-julia-kent/1146644693?ean=2940184489889

Google Play:  https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Julia_Kent_Shopping_for_a_Highlander_s_Elopement?id=e3IvEQAAQBAJ

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Excerpt

Love isn’t a football game.

It’s a feeling.

A feeling that uses instinct as a tool.

I’m smarter than this. When everything felt off, I should have known that it was off for a reason.

“Jody,” I say softly, “I canna do this.”

“Of course you can. You just have the jitters. Amy’s a wonderful woman and–”

“I dinna mean the proposin’ part. That’s fine. I can do that. I mean doin’ it on the pitch.”

His turn to go green.

“You want to cancel the proposal?”

“Aye. Nae. No’ the proposin’. The doin’ it in public part. I love Amy wi’ all ma body and soul.” I frown. “She’d hate to hear me say it that way. Soul and body.” I wink at Jody. “But it’s really the other way around. Ma body knows more than ma mind.”

“I don’t need to hear every thought that pops into your head, Hamish.”

“I only tell ye the important ones.”

“Like not wanting the big spectacle we arranged for you?”

“I’m tellin’ ye now, aren’t I?”

“We have extra cameramen here for this. Your parents and siblings are in the crowd. Declan and Andrew McCormick are here. We doubled the security.”

“Is this about money? I can pay for all that.”

“It’s not–well, yes, some of it is about the money. But it’s more about publicity and planning. A lot of people put forth a huge effort to make today special for you and Amy.”

“And forty thousand of ma closest fans.”

He closes his eyes and sighs through his nose. “A better time to realize this would have been weeks ago. Not a huge US exhibition game.”

“Ma instincts told me then that this was right. Now ma gut says something else. It all feels off.”

“Your gut.”

I pat my flat stomach. “It’s gotten me this far in life. Good gut.”

He's right. I know how much work all the coaches, teammates, stadium staff and administrators, sponsors–hell, even the car park attendants–have put into helping me today. I don't have cold feet, and I love Amy to the moon and back, but something feels wrong.

As Amy says, hinky.

I can't explain it. If I had words for it, I'd use them. It's a feeling, and those don't always line up nice and neat in words that make sense.

Author Bio:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.

 

From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).

 

She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.

 

She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com

 

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BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-kent

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Amazon Author Page:  https://www.amazon.com/Julia-Kent/e/B00A99V268/

  

 Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

chain of kisses by Angela Knight #BDSM #Romance @changelingpress

 

BDSM Romance, Capture Fantasy

Date Published: June 13, 2025

 

Runaway Bride meets Unstoppable Force -- recipe for disaster? Or love rekindled?

 

For years, Prince Admiral Arles of Tor has been obsessed with Gisel Vanda, who jilted him at the altar. When he discovers the lovely runaway is now a mercenary space captain, he captures her, determined to get Gisel out of his system. He soon discovers she's even more intelligent and beautiful than he remembered, but she is also a political liability he can't afford.

Gisel bitterly regrets jilting Arles, and her love for him still burns bright. Even as he tests her with acts of erotic dominance, she sees the opportunity to redeem herself. But with a murderous enemy closing in, can love survive the demands of royalty?

EXCERPT

I gave the manacle on my right arm a restless tug, and it responded with a musical rattle. I couldn't see a damn thing. A blindfold bit into my temples, wrapping me in sensual, intimate darkness.

The lack of vision only made me more aware of him -- his scent, that faint tang of spice and masculinity, the heat of his big body standing just to the left of the bunk he'd chained me to, the slight rasp of his breathing. I have always been acutely aware of Prince Arles of Tor, once my intended, now my captor.

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat down beside me. I quivered like an animal, imagining his nudity. The way he'd looked that night ten years before was branded on my memory. Arles's broad back had flexed as he'd used the light whip, the perfect, tanned hemispheres of his bare ass working in concert with the leap of thigh muscles and the snap of brawny arms.

The girl had squirmed and sighed every time he hit her. Even as young as I'd been a decade ago, I'd known she loved it. The smell of sex hung in the air like some kind of musky, exotic spice.

"That's what he'll do to you," my sister had whispered as we watched from the secret chamber. "And he'll make you want it. Mother will be appalled."

Our mother might have known Arles dominated other women, but it would never occur to her that one of her daughters would feel the need to submit.

We, after all, had been born to rule.

"Never," I'd snarled, with all the melodrama of the seventeen-year-old I'd been. I couldn't drag my eyes away from the prince's feral strength. "I will not shame my blood." I could feel myself going wet.

"You will. He'll weave his alien magic, and you'll bow that proud little head."

I feared Isa was right. Even if I hadn't been in love with him, Arles was too much for me. I'd end up sacrificing everything I was to his dominance and raw male power. My mother would turn from me in disgust and revulsion. I couldn't bear the thought of her disappointment.

But I also knew my mother would force me to abide by the demands of the treaty. Saying no at the altar was not an option.

Two hours later, I slipped from the palace, abandoning my world, my family, and my life. The Capital Spaceport was only a few blocks away, and I meant to seek passage off world. I was too well known to take a flitter taxi -- any capital cabbie knew my curfew and would refuse to pick me up, for fear of the Royal Guard's wrath -- so I decided to walk.

A block from my goal, I was attacked by a pack of throat slitters who dragged me into an alley. I survived only because a passing mercenary heard my screams and charged to the rescue. He killed every one of the slitters and flew me to his ship for treatment of some ugly injuries.

Captain Galon Teve had a merc's hard eyes, but his heart was soft. When I told him my story, the big, gray-haired cyborg took pity on me and hired me on as crew.

My new mentor taught me how to fight, how to kill, and how to pleasure. Yet no matter how I tried, I could never love Galon as he came to love me. My heart was already captive to a boy with a Paladin's eyes -- and a man with a devil's smile.

Under Galon's tutelage, I discovered a talent for tactics and strategy. Eventually I became his second-in-command. When Galon fell in battle against the Fafnar, I succeeded him as captain of the Valkyrie Quest.

Through it all, Arles haunted my shamed fantasies. I'd lie in my lonely bunk with one hand stroking between my thighs, remembering the shadows rolling across his big body in time to the snap of his whip.

Now it was no dream.

Arles touched my nipple, brushing calloused fingertips over the hard nubbin. Just once, but I still caught my breath at the liquid heat that rushed through me.

"Sensitive little breasts." His voice rumbled in the intimate darkness of my blindfold. "I wonder how you'll taste. Shall I find out?"

Saliva flooded my mouth, and I swallowed. I didn't answer.

"I asked you a question." His fingers closed over my flesh in a pinch carefully calibrated to give more pleasure than pain. Yet the potential sting floated just beneath the delight like a dark promise. "I want an answer. Shall I taste you?"

"You'll do as you please. You always do."

"True." He twisted, released, flicked the nipple back and forth, sending warm delight lapping along my nerves. "But a show of submission on your part might appease me."

"I rather doubt it."

"But can you afford to take the chance?" Another hot pinch, this one with a hint of sting. Perversely, I felt heat flood my belly. "My reputation is not exaggerated."

"I never thought it was."

"Perhaps a silk flogger." He brushed his hand over the sensitive flesh of my left breast, gave me a caressing squeeze. "Right across these pretty tits. I would enjoy watching you dance."

"I've heard that of you." I tried for a tone of mild contempt, but my voice sounded too high, too breathless. I silently cursed myself. I could usually act more skillfully for my enemies.

Unfortunately, I'd never seen Arles as a foe. Even now, bound and naked, I remembered the thoughtful boy who'd first taught me strategy over endless games of Conquest. The prince was even more skilled now, a conqueror of two worlds who'd driven the Fafnar from Torrean space with his ruthless, brilliant tactics. When Arles tracked me down three days ago, I'd known I was in trouble.

I wasn't really surprised, though. I'd known the prince would demand a reckoning one day; my actions had done too much damage to his reputation. Anybody who watched the news vids knew that.

I'd also known winning a fight with him wasn't likely. Arles commanded a huge, Starbreaker-class warship that was the pride of the Torrean fleet. Bristling with blaze cannons and thermal torpedoes, the Mjˆlnir outgunned the Valkyrie three to one. Naming that ship after Thor's Hammer had been entirely too apt.

But though the Valkyrie was small, she was fast and nimble. She proved it as the Mjˆlnir chased us for three days through the thickest asteroid field I could find. Arles caught us just as we prepared to escape into superlight space. A salvo of thermal torpedoes blew Valkyrie's quantum engines, leaving us dead in space.

The prince demanded my surrender as the price of my crew's lives. I didn't want my people to pay for my sins, so I'd agreed. Leaving the Valkyrie in the hands of my executive officer, I flew to meet Arles in my personal launch.

When I stepped off the small craft's ramp onto the Mjˆlnir's squadron deck, I found him holding a collar and a set of magnetic slave bands equipped with chains. The golden restraints were engraved with erotic images and studded with emeralds for maximum barbaric glitter. He'd chained and collared me as his grinning crew watched. I could only grind my teeth in rage, trying to ignore the heat in my cunt.

Now Arles traced one finger down my torso, dipped suggestively into my navel, and paused at the neatly trimmed edge of my bush. I managed not to squirm. "I have a suspicion you're wet," he said, his voice dark and low. "Are you? Do I arouse you, Gisel?" He laughed. "Odin knows you've made me hard and hot."

His fingers dipped between my spread thighs. Both of us groaned at the slick, tight flesh he found.

"Ripe," Arles murmured. "Ripe as a peachango. Ready for my cock. Is that what you want, Gisel?"

 

 

About the Author

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.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work, Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police department.

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