Showing posts with label Megan Slayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Megan Slayer. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 6, 2026

TAKEN BY THE ALIEN by Megan Slayer #Paranormal @ChangelingPress




(Taken, Book 13)


A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Novel

Date Published: May 8, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press



She’s got magic she’s never tapped into. He’s from another galaxy. Together, they’re just right.

Lindsey Knepper-Lare just wants to belong. As far back as she can remember, she’s felt different. She’s convinced she’ll always been damaged goods. Then she’s abducted by an alien and spirited to a planet with a name she can’t even pronounce. Then Ronan walks into her life. He’s everything she wants, but has never had the courage to go after. Too bad he’ll never pay her any mind.

Ronan Miir wasn’t planning on visiting the diner on ERAEMA, but the second he spots Lindsey, he knows he has to save her. The metallic aliens on the planet want nothing good for to her. Not Ronan. He wants to kiss, touch, and protect her. Good thing he knows a thing or two about aliens, rescue, and getting back to Eerie. He’s ready to make their pairing into a forever romance… if she’ll give him a chance.

 


Excerpt


All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2026 Megan Slayer

She blinked back tears and her stomach lurched again. She’d been taken from her home against her will, was being used for something she never wanted to take part in, and had been dumped in a place she didn’t even know to work for a being who claimed to own her. And she had no idea how to get home.

Lovely.

“Oh, and if you try to rip the comm off your body, it will alert P482 and he’ll destroy you.” T181 threw a rag in her direction. “Get to cleaning. These tables won’t sanitize themselves.”

She held onto the rag, then wondered what she was supposed to clean with the rag. Instead of asking questions, she moved to the first table and wiped it down. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to cry. If she’d been able to be strong so far, she could keep doing it. She had no choice.

She wasn’t about to let anyone see her crack. She’d dissociate from herself and pretend she wasn’t here. Again. She wasn’t anyone’s slave. She didn’t have to act like she was happy in her surroundings.

“A few rules. Don’t talk to the clients. You’re here to clean, not flirt. They won’t take you out of here, so don’t ask. Understood?” T181 asked. “If they want food, they’ll let you know, but you simply deliver. You clean, you keep your mouth shut, and you give in to P482 if you want freedom from here.”

A man walked into the diner and said something she couldn’t quite hear to T181. Lindsey moved to the second table and watched the man. So far, she’d only seen beings that resembled satellites, like T181 and P482. This was the first being she’d encountered, even at a glance, who sort of resembled a human.

She watched him and her heart ached. Not only because she missed her home, but because she missed being held. Missed being touched. Missed other humans. Hell, she wasn’t even sure anyone would want to look for her. No one probably missed her.

Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t drool over this being. She swept her gaze over him. Dark hair, a bit wavy and just long enough to need a little product. Icy blue eyes that seemed to pierce through her the longer she looked at him. He had a slight dimple when he smiled and dazzling white teeth. He even had nice hands. The suit fit tight to his body, like it was tailored precisely for him. He oozed sex. No, not just sex, but power and confidence as well.

Not that this man would ever look her way. Good gracious. She was like Cinderella, but on a whole different planet. Even back on Earth men like him didn’t pay her any mind. She faded into the background -- just like she would here.

T181 moved between her and the man. “He’s mine. He’s got money, he’s free to move about the planet, and won’t bed you.”

She almost asked, “Bed him?” She hadn’t even thought of that. “Sure.”

She glanced over at him while she cleaned the third table. He had nice lips. Just full enough for a good kiss. She’d bet he was skilled at kissing, too. Not that she’d ever know. She was stuck.

She’d been taken to breed and given a bullshit answer for how to get home. A lie. Her heart hurt. This was so silly. Impossible, really. This man, no matter how sexy he was, probably had obscene amounts of money or credits or whatever. She wasn’t even sure how he’d been able to come to the planet. Was he a prisoner, too?

 

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.


Author on Twitter

Author on Instagram

 

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

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




RABT Book Tours & PR 

Wednesday, April 1, 2026

THE SNOB by Megan Slayer #Dark Romance @ChangelingPress




Dark Romance, Age Gap

Date Published: April 3, 2026



Carley Mathers isn’t just the “party girl” daughter of a congressman. She’s more. But these days, in a world of fake friends, she’s determined to keep only true ones close. Because she puts them at arm’s length, her classmates at college refer to her as “The Snob.” But she comes from wealth and means -- she shouldn’t be able to mix with her bodyguard, right?

Dacre Jennings has been given the job of protecting Carley while she’s off at college. The same classmates who make light of her silence also make fun of him, too. He doesn’t care that they think she lives with the old man. He’d rather she lived with him than alone. He sees the real woman, and he’s been in love with her for as long as he’s worked for the family.

With threats on her life, Dacre refuses to let Carley be used or abused. He’ll put his life on the line for her, as long as he knows he’s got her heart as well.




EXCERPT

Carley Mathers closed her notebook and put her pen back in the front pocket of her backpack. She wasn’t a fan of taking notes, but the only way she’d keep the dates for all the paintings straight was to write them down.

“Going home to Grandpa?” Selena, one of the girls Carley thought she might become friends with, asked. “Hang around people your own age. Do some gambling. Party or something else that’s normal?”

“Would it kill you to go to the frat party?” Missy snapped. “You like to drink. Guys like you. Might get us some action and we could win some money, since you’ve got tons. You can spare some. Any of that ring a bell?”

Carley rolled her eyes and zipped her backpack. She’d had enough of those vices. It was time to grow up and settle down -- or at least take her education seriously. Growing up the daughter of a politician and influencer was bad enough, but she’d exploited her position for years.

She grabbed her backpack and turned on her heel, ignoring the women. She hadn’t come to the University of Nevada to be sucked into a gambling situation. She’d wanted to further her education.

“God, she’s such a fucking snob,” Missy said. “Won’t talk to anyone.”

“That old man is her boyfriend,” Selena said. “Probably won’t let her go out. Has to keep her on a leash.”

If they only knew… Carley left the lecture hall and met Dacre in the lobby. “Hiya, Grandpa.”

“Grandpa?” Dacre left his post by the doorway and fell in step with her. “That’s a new one.”

“Not all that new.”

“Who said it?”

She stopped near the entrance doors to the art building and nodded over her shoulder. “The two brunettes over there. They wanted me to go to a frat party and make a damn fool of myself. I’ve had it with those days.”

He held the door for her as she stepped into the early October sunshine. “It’s warmer than I thought it would be.”

“I don’t mind. I like the warmth.” She elbowed him as they walked together. “They said I’m a snob.”

“You are.”

She jabbed him again. “Take that back.”

“Sorry, but no.” He kept walking. “You don’t talk to anyone, don’t mix with your peers, and keep to yourself.”

“That doesn’t make me a snob.”

“No,” he said. “But you come to class wearing expensive stuff and not talking much. It allows people to make up their own stories about you. They know what you’ve done and expect you’ll keep doing it.”

She sighed. She’d been such a bad girl in her younger days. Younger days… who was she kidding? She was only nineteen. But in her short years, she’d drunk most everyone under the table. She’d partied more than anyone her age should’ve been doing and tried too many things that should’ve been forbidden for someone underage. Being the child of wealth meant no one kept her in line -- certainly not her parents. As far as she was concerned, her parents used her bad behavior to further their own causes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “It’s not like I can hide my past. I can’t hide my name, either. Everyone thinks they know who I am, but no one takes the time to get to know the real me.”

“You don’t exactly open yourself up to it.” He joined her at the truck. “You’re a wonderful person and cute as a button, but no one sees it. All they see is you keeping tight-lipped and away from everyone.”

“Wouldn’t you?” She fell onto the passenger seat. She waited for him to do a quick search of the vehicle before he joined her in the cab. “All clear?”

“Clear.” He closed the driver’s side door. “I don’t blame you for being guarded. I told you, it’s perfectly fine. You’ve had a lot of attention, and I get why you don’t want it.”

She clicked her belt into place. “But?”

“But you’re not going to escape it. Unless you change your name or completely change your face, you’re going to have to put up with the attention.” He put the truck into gear. “The girls said you’re a snob?”

“And wanted me to go to a party to act the fool and get them guys.” She arranged her backpack between her feet, then withdrew her phone. The device buzzed, drawing her attention. “Sorry. I won’t be your circus animal.”

“I’d like to think that’s not the case, but I’m sure it is.” He drove across the student lot. “It doesn’t help that I’m following you around and trying to keep you safe. They see me around and think I’m some kind of old pervert.”

“My grandfather.” She swiped through the screens to her texts. “You don’t look that old.”

“Grandfather?” he asked. “I’m only twenty years older than you. Yes, I could be your father, but grandfather? I’m hurt.”

“You don’t look thirty-nine.”

“Forty, but who’s counting?”

“When did you turn forty?” She put her phone down and stared at him. “Why didn’t I know when you had your birthday?” She’d been oblivious for years, but this was inexcusable.

“Two months ago.” He shrugged and flexed his hands on the wheel. “It’s okay. I try not to remember it.”

“That’s not right. We should’ve had a party.”

“You were moving into school. I had better things to do and you didn’t need to be concerned with me.” He kept driving through campus to the condominiums.

“I don’t care. I would’ve liked to have known so we could’ve had a party, even if it was just you and me.” She would’ve done something nice for him and even bought a present.

“Your father told me to keep it quiet.”

“He’s a jackass.” She wasn’t the biggest fan of her famous father. “I hate that he said that.”

“It’s okay.”

“Stop saying that.” She picked her phone up again. “This stupid thing won’t stop buzzing. I don’t have anything due or reminders set.” She’d been careful to note when she had to turn in projects and if she had tests so she didn’t blow her grade point average. She refused to keep riding her parents’ coattails.

“What’s up?” He parked in the garage of the condo they shared. “Another test?”

“Nope.” She scrolled through the message, then swiped to her email where she read the rest of the information. “Fucking hell.”

“Watch your mouth.” He put the garage door down and took the key from the ignition. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed and scrolled through the mandate again. “It would appear my father is being considered for a role in the president’s cabinet and he -- my father -- has decided to have a party. He’s dictating I show up at said party and that I wear something slinky, he says, so I can attract a husband. The president’s son will be there, as well as the son of a diplomat and some dipshit who has an artificial intelligence startup. Why is he throwing me at these men? What if I don’t like them?”

“You don’t.”

“Duh.” She turned her phone over on her lap. “He’s sending the private jet to come get me.”

“Don’t you have a test on Monday?”

“I do. Art history.” She folded her hands on her phone. “I don’t want to go, but I can’t refuse him.”

“I know.” He opened the driver’s side door. “But it would’ve been nice if he’d have told me.” He rounded the hood to her side of the truck.

“You didn’t know?”

“Nope.” He slid his phone from his back pocket. “Not a word.”

“You’re coming with me.” She insisted on it. “I’m not going if you don’t.”

“I’m not leaving you to those wolves.” He opened her door for her. “Sweets, I’m stuck to you like glue.”

“You’re good glue.” She grasped his hand and squeezed his fingers. She’d had a crush on him for years but kept that to herself. He didn’t see her as a desirable woman. She was “cute as a button.” What young woman wanted to hear that? It was a kiss of death. Like telling her she was one of the guys. She allowed him to help her from the truck, then stumbled forward into his arms.

“Hi.” He crooked his brow. “You okay?”

She’d always felt a tingle when he touched her. Now, that tingle had turned into full electrical jolts. Her pussy throbbed and she longed to kiss him. He didn’t look forty. Hell, he barely looked thirty. What he did look like was sexy enough that she wanted to wrap herself around him. He was just her type -- older, tall, slightly graying at the temples, a weathered look around his eyes and just the right amount of stubble on his cheeks and chin to abrade her skin. Plus, he had killer blue eyes.

“Carley?” He tipped his head. He’d started wearing a baseball cap and zipped hoodie to blend in more with the college students. “You’re staring at me.”

“What’s not to stare at?” She stayed in his arms and sighed. “You’re…” She almost said dreamy, but that wasn’t right. He was dreamy, but he was more than that. With him, she felt safe. Respected. Heard.

“Not me,” he said. “I’m not supposed to be touching you.”

“Do you want to?” She stood and righted herself, trying to look less flustered. “Sorry. I should behave.” She grabbed her backpack before hurrying into the condo. She’d made a fool of herself and hated that she’d allowed herself to be vulnerable, even if only for a second.

“Carley.” He hurried after her. “Wait.”

 


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.


Author on Twitter

Author on Instagram

 

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

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

 

Pre-Order Today


RABT Book Tours & PR

Wednesday, January 21, 2026

Taken by the Lady of the Lake by Megan Slayer #Paranormal #Romance




Paranormal Romance, Capture Fantasy

Date Published: January 23, 2026



She’s an urban legend. He’s adrift. With a little magic, they’ll discover their fates are entwined.

Amanda Fortune never expected to be left in the lake, but after her murder and subsequent dumping, that’s exactly where she is. She’s become an urban legend, her ghost seen only by a very few. She longs to have a second chance at life, but that’s not possible when you’re dead. Is it?

With the right circumstances, anything is possible.

Sawyer Gibson doesn’t know what he’s meant to do in life. He has abilities to read the Fates, but his talents aren’t needed in the town of Eerie. Everyone here has magic. He’s nothing special. But Aunt Chloe is dying, and she knows more than Sawyer ever thought possible. Amanda is -- was -- her best friend. So Aunt Chloe sends Sawyer on a chase to find Amanda’s killer.

But Amanda’s a myth. A ghost. And ghosts can’t be seen, right?

The moment Sawyer lays eyes on Amanda, he’s smitten. There’s the tiny problem of her being a ghost… but that detail won’t stop Sawyer, even if someone else thinks it will.

 



EXCERPT

 

Amanda wandered the woods along the north end of the lake. She didn’t have much else to do. Campers were around, scattered about the grassy area, and even a few picnickers, but none of them could see her. She hated this existence. She had no one to talk to, no one to spend time with. She missed the simple interaction of being with other people.

But those were the things Claude had taken from her. He’d ruined her life, but he’d also robbed her of her future. She should hate him. Should be burning with the hottest, nuclear anger toward him.

She could be, but why? Would it bring her life back?

No.

She might as well focus on anything else but the past.

Something rustled in the woods and for a moment, she ignored the sound. Everything in the woods made noise. Animals, the wind, water… it all created disturbance. But this one was different. A shiver ran the length of her spine. She hadn’t felt this way since that night.

She ducked behind a tree, knowing she’d never be seen, but wanting a private vantage point to locate the noise.

A hooded figure strode through the trees to the edge of the water.

The shiver increased when the figure leaned over and touched the rippled surface of the lake. She knew that hand and recognized the shark tattoo. Didn’t have to see the rest of the person to know who stood there -- Claude.

She froze, not wanting him to know she could see him. Could he see her? He hadn’t for the last fifty years, but that didn’t matter. He churned her stomach. She clutched the tree bark. The sooner he left, the better.

“She’s dying,” Claude said. “The last one to know what happened is dying. I can’t steal her magic, too, but I can rejoice in her going. My secret went with you to the grave, but she figured some of it out. No one else did. I’d silence her, but I can’t do that. Can’t kill anyone.”

He couldn’t kill this person, but he’d murdered her! What a jerk. Amanda trembled, despite her best efforts to stay still.

“Won’t be long now. She’ll be gone and any last chance of anyone knowing will be gone. The cops didn’t catch me. No one believed I could do it,” Claude said. “They wouldn’t have understood. I needed your magic. I needed to own you. You’d never have used that magic properly, but I could. We were expected to be together because you had to give yourself to me. It always had to end with your magic being mine.”

She wanted to scream. He’d never loved her. Couldn’t. Not when he wanted to destroy her.

“But now it’ll be our secret. You gave me what I needed and you’re where you were always meant to be.” He patted the water. “Always.”

He stood, then adjusted the sweatshirt, keeping his face hidden. He turned away from her vantage point and shuffled back through the woods.

Every cell in her existence screamed to keep away from him, but she followed. What else could he do to her? Kill her a second time? Was that even possible?

She navigated through the trees to the edge of the woods. She hadn’t gone this far in so long. There hadn’t been much reason. Now there was. She had to see where he was going and what in the name of Hera he was doing now that he’d come to haunt her.

Claude stopped at the larger picnic area in the park. A man sat alone at one of the tables and flipped through a book while holding a tablet. The guy seemed completely lost in thought.

Claude, now well over seventy years old but still the bully, shoved the book off the table and laughed. “Stop looking for the Lady of the Lake. She doesn’t exist,” he snapped and barely broke stride.

Amanda stopped short. The Lady of the Lake? There was someone else here? A kindred spirit? She had to find this lady and meet her. Maybe this other woman would know how to get away from the damn water.

“Thanks, ass,” the man said and picked up his book. “Dick.”

She wanted to find the Lady but was also intrigued by this man. She inched closer.

A child, running with a plastic disc turned just as she passed Amanda and her eyes widened. “Momma!”

Amanda paused. She wondered what had spooked the child. She ducked behind a tree and listened for the little girl and parent.

“Momma, I saw the Lady,” the girl said. “Right there.”

She peeked out from her hiding spot long enough to look for the Lady. She didn’t see anyone.

“You’re imagining things,” the mother said. “The Lady of the Lake is a story made up to scare kids.”

Amanda bit back a groan. That was a downer. A fib for kids…

The man looked up from his book. “It’s not a story,” he replied. He closed the book and picked up the tablet. “Actually, it’s considered an urban legend, but there’s fact behind the legend.”

The mother rolled her eyes. “Don’t butt in and scare my kid. She’ll have nightmares because of you.”

“But Mom, I saw her,” the little girl said. “She had dark hair, blue skin and was pretty.”

Amanda ducked back behind the tree. She really had to find this woman. Any company would be better than none.

The woman and her child left the picnic area and when Amanda emerged from her spot, she stepped right into the man’s path. If she’d had breath, it would’ve stopped or clogged in her throat.

He was a beautiful man. Young -- compared to her -- and handsome. With dark hair, dark eyes and a studious look to him. The long-sleeved shirt accentuated his thin frame and the glasses gave him an air of sophistication. He didn’t walk with a swagger, but instead a quiet confidence.

“Oh, my,” she gasped. “Wow.”

“Excuse me?” He met her gaze. “What did you say?”

She froze. He’d heard her? “I’m sorry?”

He cocked his head. “Where are you?”

So he couldn’t see her? Good. She faded into the woods, rushing to the north end, to her safe haven. No one had seen her there in years -- if ever -- and no one would see her now.

“I know I heard you.” The man drifted through the woods. “Please, don’t hide from me.”

She had no choice. No one else had believed she was there and this guy might be looking for the Lady of the Lake. She wasn’t that Lady. She was nobody.

She glanced back and noticed the man. He’d bent over and rested his hands on his knees. He puffed as if he were trying to keep up with her. His bag slid forward and dangled along his side.

“I’ve done the research. I know the story. You’re here. I can feel you.” He stood upright but kept puffing. “She wouldn’t lie to me. She led me here. Told me where I should find you. Told me to find you. I need to do this for her.”

She balled her hands. “Who?” She snapped her mouth shut. She’d wanted to stay hidden, but her curiosity would get her into trouble again.

He sank onto one of the rocks at the edge of the water. “I hear you. Where are you?”

“I can’t show you.”

“Please?”

“No.” If she could have this conversation with him, then something was different about him.

“Why?”

“I don’t know you. Can’t trust you.” It was the truth. Others claimed to be looking for her, but they hadn’t found her. Not the detectives, the amateur sleuths, or anyone else.

“You can,” he said. He scrubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, then sighed. “When I was a little boy, my aunt told me about her friend, Amanda. She said her friend was a lovely person and so sweet, but she disappeared. For the rest of her life, my Aunt Chloe wanted to know what happened to her friend.”

“Chloe?” She didn’t venture closer, but the mere mention of the name pricked her curiosity again.

“My mother’s sister. Do you know Chloe? Or Marie, my mother?” he asked. “My mother died five years ago, but Chloe held on. Her magic is fading.”

“No,” she whispered. Chloe had the strongest magic. She should be just fine.

“She told me you liked being here. She said this was your favorite place and you’d spend hours among the trees and around the water, existing in nature. She said you might have even been part woodland nymph because you were here so much. She loved the nights you’d go dancing together, and the days spent talking and mixing spells,” he said. “She said she was never the same after you disappeared.”

“No?” She couldn’t be excited. Not yet. She needed some detail only the true Chloe would know. Something only she could tell this man. “I can’t trust you.”

“I know you can’t.” He sighed again. “Why would you?”

The last man she’d thought she could trust had murdered her.

“She knew about the abuse and that you wanted to get away. She was trying to figure out a plan to get you out of that house without him knowing. To this day, she deals with the guilt of not working fast enough. You deserved better.”

She emerged from behind the tree. “What did he steal from me?” If he knew this, then he’d spoken to Chloe. Only her best friend would remember she never let go of her locket.

“Besides your magic? He stole your necklace,” the man said. “It was your favorite piece of jewelry.”

“Why?” She held onto the tree for stability, even if her legs weren’t holding her up.

“Because it came from your mother and was one of the few things you had to remember her by.”

If she’d been standing on her feet, she would’ve collapsed. “Who are you?”

“Sawyer Gibson.” He stood and held out his hand. “I don’t know where you are, but I hear you and I want to see you. I want to help you.”

 

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.


Author on Twitter

Author on Instagram

 

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

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

 

Pre-Order Today


RABT Book Tours & PR

Monday, September 29, 2025

Taken by the Sorcerer by Megan Slayer #Paranormal #UrbanFantasy @ChangelingPress

 


Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Urban Fantasy

Date Published: October 3, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press



She’s never been taken seriously. He’s seen as a geek. Together, they could be unstoppable.

Skylar Graves is a synth -- she can shift into anything. She’s also known all around the world as a billionaire playgirl fool. Parties? She’s had them. Money? Bucketloads. Brains… Well, there’s the rub. No one’s ever believed she had the brains to make the money. No one’s ever believed in her at all.

Enter Brody and a reason to use those brains.

Brody isn’t the best sorcerer. He knows his spells and how to create them, but he’s still learning to control his magic. When he finds his perfect mate, he’ll be set. But is she out there? The trouble is, he’s been tasked with helping other paras find Eerie and he can’t do that alone.

The mome he meets Skylar, he knows he’s found his match, but the problem lies in convincing her she’s more than she ever believed.

Not impossible… right?




EXCERPT

“I am getting into this party.” Brody Teague drove up the winding road to the gravel area at the base of the Skylar Graves property. The music blared and vibrated the ground, even this far out. He hated loud noise and didn’t really want to be here, but he needed to speak to Skylar.

He just knew she was a para and could help him. He knew it.

Still, he couldn’t hide his irritation. How did one woman have so much ridiculous wealth? This wasn’t just opulence, but obnoxious opulence. He’d bet the people attending this party spent more on one pair of shoes than he did on his rent for the month.

Right now, he needed to speak to her. What would she say if she knew she was meeting a true sorcerer who wanted her help? She’d probably laugh. If she helped him, he could develop his potion to allow paras to move in regular society, and also concoct the signal to help paras who didn’t even know they were para to find refuge in Eerie. He knew there were more people out there who could come to the town and find a place to exist and understand their abilities, if they had the signal to get there.

He left his car and trudged the last few hundred yards up the road to the main gate. The number of cars parked every which way in his path amazed him. How were these people going to leave? They’d need choreography or a cop to help them.

Didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t going to be there when they left. He’d get in, give his pitch, hope for the best, and get the hell out of there. He walked up to the gate and admired the wrought iron. The doors swung loose, allowing him onto the property. He’d bet this gate was locked up tight any other time. He touched the iron and the chill settled in his bones. The gate was spooky, really. It looked like a cartoony alien in the middle.

Aliens… He knew they existed, but they didn’t look like the Roswellian versions. They were much more like humans than the actual humans believed. But aliens were good at morphing and shifting to fit their environment.

As he walked among the people having conversations and dancing, he realized he shouldn’t be there. He wasn’t dressed for the occasion. He’d never seen so much purple in his life. People danced by the pool, swaying and gyrating. The men tended to be dressed in suits and tuxedos. The women wore evening gowns. The plethora of sequins caught the light. Glasses clinked and laughter rang out. The music blared even louder and the water seemed to thrum with the beat.

Would anyone notice him? Somehow, he doubted it.

He spied the buffet of food. Every fruit and veggie possible for a tray were spread out on the table, along with a chocolate fountain and a stack of glasses, no doubt filled with champagne. He’d bet it was the most expensive bubbly, at that.

There were people at the side table with powder that might or might not be drugs. He forced himself away from that area. He’d never had a problem with drugs or wanted to try them but didn’t judge anyone who did.

He fought the urge to cover his ears. The noise bothered him. He was a scientist and sorcerer. He needed to concentrate. This place didn’t allow him to do that. He could barely focus.

He scanned the various people at the party and shook his head. She wasn’t there. He’d know Skylar in a heartbeat. Then again, she was about the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Silky blonde hair, willowy and tall, a few curves, and kissable lips. He wanted to look into her brown eyes and get lost.

He balled his hand and gritted his teeth. Damn it. He wasn’t there to drool over her. He was there to ask a question.

Brody focused on the money spent to not only throw the party, but to have this house and lifestyle. The paintings weren’t photos or pictures printed on canvas, but actual works of art. Was that a Picasso? Nah. He tipped his head. Well, maybe. She had the money to buy whatever she wanted, so it was plausible.

He couldn’t imagine having that much cash. He’d barely scraped by all his life. But by being poor, he’d learned how to use what he had and make it stretch to work for his needs. It taught him to be humble, too.

A woman in a blood red body-hugging gown grabbed him. “Look at you. Are you one of the dancers?” She yanked him close and kissed him right on the mouth. “You sure taste good.”

He wriggled in her grasp. “I’m not a dancer.” He had two left feet. “Sorry.”

“Then stay with me.” She tugged him across the expanse of lawn toward the pool. “She brought a few newbs. This one’s right off the farm.”

He managed to disengage himself from her and darted back to the safety of the bigger crowd on the veranda. Why anyone thought they had the right to force themselves on someone else was beyond him. She’d touched him without his permission. Gross.

He didn’t know that woman and was sure she wasn’t a para. Hell, she’d probably slash his ass if she found out he was one. Would they turn on Skylar when they found out she was one? If she was one…

He rested his hands on his hips and surveyed the crowd again. If she’d used some of her money to help paras and not buy another sports car, she’d be a folk hero. There were plenty of paras who needed a hand in getting to Eerie and more who could use help in figuring out what their magic might be.

But she’d chosen to be decadent.

He moved through the people again, looking for her. Nope, she wasn’t there. He’d never forget her hair or smile.

A woman with bright red hair bumped into him, but he doubted she knew he was there.

“I hear she’s a para,” the woman said. “I don’t know how. She’s so normal.”

What a reductive thing to say. He kept his back to her but continued to listen.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” the woman with her said. “She’s a freak. I mean, how else could she have this kind of money and do absolutely nothing? It’s supposed to be her father’s money, but has anyone ever seen him? No. He doesn’t exist. I bet she stole it or it’s created money.”

Judgmental much? He rolled his eyes, then resumed looking through the crowd.

“Think she really is manufacturing the money?” the first woman said.

“Nah,” the other woman replied. “It’s just a way for her to get attention. She’s probably got a dead husband or ex that she bled dry financially.”

“She is an attention-grabber.”

He hated that these people who’d been invited to the party -- or maybe they’d crashed it like he had -- so openly dismissed her. Like she didn’t have feelings or didn’t matter and wasn’t a person. So rude.

Still, he wasn’t so thrilled with Skylar. He wished she’d donate her money or time back to Eerie to help the para community. Paras were dying from harm coming to them via the human and outside world. Vampires were staked for being different. Faeries slaughtered for making magic. Trolls and gnomes killed for being perceived as ugly. It wasn’t right.

A golden eagle soared into the space and flew right past him. The bird seemed to keep circling him.

“Go,” he muttered. “I’m not dinner. Shoo.” Why was this eagle focusing on him? He wobbled. Shit. Was it trained to find the crashers? Could be. He wanted to use a spell to get the fuck out of there, but he’d have to return to get his car. Goddamn it.

The bird flew around him again, then soared across the expanse and landed on the upright next to the DJ stand.

The DJ stopped the music. “And there is Skylar Graves’ famous pet eagle. Who else but Skylar would have an eagle as a pet? So majestic and graceful. But watch out. She has a nasty bite! Let’s give it up for Audra, her eagle!”

The crowd cheered and the eagle soared out of the way, behind the second floor of the mansion.

He groaned. What a ridiculous show of extravagance. It displayed her wealth, sure, but it was a waste of money. The bird should be in the wild or a zoo, where it could be appreciated and admired. Not stuck in a damn mansion with a woman who had more money than brains.

He snorted to himself. Good God, he was being harsh and judgmental.

“Is she here?” someone asked.

“She’s having a party and doesn’t care to show up,” another said. “She’s probably out of the country. She’s never here.”

“I bet we could rob this place blind and she’d never know,” a third person said.

“Except she’s got the best security system. This place is protected better than government vaults,” another voice said. “Don’t try it. This joint will scream and lock down in seconds.”

Brody gritted his teeth again. She had to be there. He had no choice. People were discussing robbing her and belittling her… just like he had. Damn it.

He bowed his head. He had to think about her as a person and para, not a source of money. That’s how they all saw her -- a reflection of her disposable income. She lived her life like nothing mattered. It was all a big party. She didn’t command respect.

Then again, he didn’t exactly command it, either. He did better behind the scenes. Let him stay in his lab with his medicines and potions. There he was fine. All he wanted to do was help his fellow paras.

“Excuse me.” A woman tugged his arm and yanked him out of the main space and behind a curtain.

“What the?” He stared at her. He’d never seen anyone with golden brown eyes. They were transfixing. But she’d grabbed him. “What do you want?”

“You.”

He couldn’t look away from her. Most of her face was concealed behind a black, feathery mask. He could swear he knew her, but he couldn’t place her.

“I need to speak to you.” She held onto him. “Do you know Skylar?”

 

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



RABT Book Tours & PR

Tuesday, August 5, 2025

THE BRAT by Megan Slayer #MafiaRomance #Suspense @ChangelingPress

 


Mafia Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: August 8, 2025



Daddy’s Girl…

Betty Ann

I love my position as the daughter of the King of Clubs. I do what I want, when I want, and get what I want -- I don't like being told no. Ever. Daddy lets me get away with everything. Not Sarge, though. He drives me crazy and makes me play by the rules... So why do I want to keep him around?

Sarge

I'm Army to the core and live for the rules. I need order, but BA creates chaos. She pushes and demands. She wants everything... So why do I want to give it to her? I can't resist her and I should. Her father will destroy me if I touch her and I very much want to touch her. But is the saucy woman in the mini dress worth my life?

She just might be.




EXCERPT


Betty Ann

“I don’t think there’s any man who can tame me, Nina.” Betty Ann Morris stood in front of her floor-length mirror and ran her fingers through her stick-straight hair. “I don’t.”

Nina, her best friend and closest confidante, joined her at the mirror. “I don’t know. You’re nineteen. I’m sure there’s someone out there. Has to be.”

Betty Ann considered what Nina had said, but didn’t agree. She wasn’t that naive. Men viewed her one of two ways -- either as the pixie that needed to be given some experience, only to find out she had more than they did, or as a tart who deserved to be treated like shit.

“You don’t believe me.” Nina shrugged, then walked out of view. “You’ve grown up too fast. So have I, but whatever.”

“Deep.” Betty Ann turned on her heel and strode over to her closet. Nina wasn’t wrong about them growing up too fast. How could she not? Her father – known as The King of Clubs -- owned the biggest chain of nightclubs in the tristate area. She’d frequented his clubs since she was far too young to be in such places. She’d mixed with the wrong crowds and tried things she never should’ve been around.

Why? It was fun. She flipped a lock of her hair over her shoulder, then considered her wardrobe. “We’re going out tonight.”

“Like we do every Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights.” Nina padded across the thick carpet. She held up a teal sequined dress, then tossed the garment onto the bed. “What about that one?” She pointed to a black dress.

“Might work.” She wasn’t sure which dress she’d choose. She’d seen a few things in her nineteen years. Getting close to her wasn’t possible most of the time. If her father wasn’t forcing men away, they ended up dead. “Where do you want to go? Vodka Lounge? Or The Martini?”

“I thought we’d try the new one. Hitchcock’s.” Nina shrugged into a tight pink dress. The bright color worked well with her dark hair. The fabric pressed against her breasts and showcased her nipples. When she danced, she’d definitely gain attention.

“I like that dress on you. Looks better with your complexion than it does with mine.” She yanked dresses aside, until she found something suitable. “How about this one?” She plucked a navy dress. The garment sparkled with a few thousand crystals.

“Yes.” Nina nodded. She laced up the side of her dress. “That works with your curves and the color of your hair.”

Betty Ann had to agree. She’d spent a fortune on the bleaching process this time around. Some might want the brassy look, but she insisted on her blonde being as California blonde as possible. Beachy, natural-looking and perfect for her skin tone. Call her vain, but she insisted she looked good.

She stepped into the dress and slipped her arm through the lone strap. Once she adjusted the garment around her breasts, showcasing plenty of cleavage, she zipped the side. The second the fabric encased her torso, a jolt of electricity rocked through her. The right dress always set the tone for the night.

She pulled her hair back from her face and stood before her makeup table.

“That’s one thing I’ve always loved about you. Unlike most girls our age, you know how to do your makeup without overdoing it,” Nina said. “I’m jealous of your skills with a makeup brush.”

“The trick is to keep your makeup as simple as possible so it looks natural. If you do that, then you won’t age yourself.” She finished applying a nude eye shadow, then applied the perfect cat-eye liner.

“Are you going to bag a man tonight?” Nina asked. She pursed her lips before swiping another line of lipstick across her bottom lip. “You always do -- when you want one.”

“I’m considering it.” She finished her makeup, then left the mirror. “I never get turned down. You don’t either.”

“Because I get your leftovers.” Nina remained at the mirror. “I don’t think that guy at The Martini was all that thrilled to get me over you.”

“He wasn’t my type and he sure seemed interested in you.” Betty Ann opened the door to her shoe closet. “That’s why I steered him to you.”

“I didn’t mind, but it would’ve been nice if he did like me.” Nina finished her makeup. “I’m not gorgeous like you.”

“Who says?” She selected a pair of strappy sandals. She’d been walking in heels since she was thirteen and had perfected her sway.

“Me.” Nina stepped into her shoes, then picked up her clutch purse. “You like to play with fire. Those guys at the club aren’t going to want a princess.”

She snorted. “You’re saying I’m a princess?” Of course, she was. She insisted on getting her way, she could be a brat and she demanded a lot from everyone.

“You should have a crown.” Nina clicked her purse shut. “Are we going to be able to bring purses or just keep them in the car?”

“Car.” She fastened the strap on her left shoe, then adjusted the one on the right shoe. “It’s safer that way. We won’t get our shit stolen and the bouncers have to do whatever I want.” She’d been spoiled that way.

“I know.” Nina waited for Betty Ann to finish smoothing her dress. “You’re going to find a guy who isn’t turned on by your princess act, won’t like that you can’t exist without daddy’s money and clout, and he’ll make you think twice about your lifestyle.”

“Right,” she replied. “I know who to play with and who to throw back. If the guy is going to give me too much shit, then he’s not worth it. Let’s go.” She flicked her hand.

With Nina behind her, she strode downstairs to the ground floor, through the kitchen to the expansive foyer before stopping under the covered driveway arch.

Her favorite car was driven up to where she stood and Dirks, the driver she liked best, exited the vehicle. He opened the back door for her.

“Thank you, Dirks.” She settled on the seat, then moved over for Nina. “We’re going to Hitchcock’s.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He closed the door behind Nina and hustled around the hood to the driver’s side. The privacy glass kept him from listening to their conversation. She swore he still listened in on what she said, but she wasn’t positive.

“You might know who to play with and who to avoid, but there’s a guy out there who won’t be such a pushover,” Nina said. “One you can’t order around.”

“I doubt that.” Betty Ann stared out the window at the landscape flying by. Living on more than one hundred acres was nice, but it made quick trips to town almost impossible. “Men are here to be played with. They don’t want relationships -- not with a girl like me.”

Guys her age wanted to bag “the hot chick” and older men wanted to bag the “hot young girl.” If she was told one more time she had coltish legs, she’d scream. Yes, she had long legs and knew how to wrap them around a man’s waist during sex, but she wasn’t wobbly on those legs. Not by a long shot.

“What do you mean?” Nina asked. “You’ll find a man tonight. Bet me you won’t.”

“How much?”

“One hundred bucks.”

Nina hadn’t even flinched. Damn. “You’re on. What are the terms?”

“I bet you find the one man tonight that makes you give him two nights. The guy who makes you think twice. You’ll get hung up on him,” Nina said. “And you’ll like it.”

“And I bet you that’s all bullshit.”

Nina shrugged, then held out her hand. “You’ll see.”

“Nina.” She nudged her friend. “It won’t happen.” Men were toys to play with. They were meant to be discarded when they outlived their welcome. There was always another waiting when she desired.

“You’ll get hung up on this one and lose your head.” Nina laughed. “Not that I want your money. I want to see you eat your words.”

“Never.”

 

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




RABT Book Tours & PR

Tuesday, July 1, 2025

Taken by the Huldra by Megan Slayer #Paranormal #Romance @changelingpress

 


Paranormal Romance, Capture Fantasy

Date Published: July 4, 2025



A Huldra and a human collide in the forest…

 

Hunter came to Eerie to give up on his life. Nothing’s gone right and he’s ready to quit. Then he sees the most beautiful woman in the world, but she wants him dead. Talk about bad luck. Until he meets Annika, a Huldra -- a Norse protector – and the woman he can’t seem to forget.

Unlike her twin sister Runa, who wants only to destroy, Annika is a nurturing spirit. The moment she sees Hunter she has to save him from her homicidal sister. He’s too pretty to kill, but he’s got a secret. He’s not solely human, although he doesn’t know what paranormal blood runs through his veins.

If he can survive Runa’s wrath, the scars of his past, and allow himself to have a future with Annika, he might find the best things in life aren’t exactly what they seem -- they’re better.

 


EXCERPT


“I’ve had enough.” Hunter Hallahan drove past the line separating the town boundary of Eerie from the rest of the world. To anyone who didn’t have a drop of paranormal blood, the road went through untouched woodlands. Unlike most beings, he had the very cells permitting him to be there -- paranormal blood. More specifically, shifter blood. By the time he’d cropped up on the family tree, the strain of paranormal magic coming down to him had been diluted enough he wasn’t able to shift.

Didn’t matter to him.

He had the keen senses of the wolf -- sharp hearing, keen eyesight, a sixth sense to detect danger, and lightning-fast reflexes. His abilities to read other beings had served him well. They had in the past.

Not now.

He’d read Sally so wrong. He’d thought she loved him. Thought she wanted to be together forever. All she’d wanted was a boyfriend for now. He flexed his hands on the steering wheel and drove straight to the woods. His eyes burned from shedding too many tears over her. Her words burned into his brain.

“Oh, honey. You’re good for now, but you’re not marriage material. You’re a mongrel.”

How could someone say those things?

No, he knew how they could. She wanted to get back at her now-fiancé. Making him jealous got her a bigger diamond. Got her attention. Got her the house in the suburbs with the large yard and the chance at having kids.

He’d never be able to give her children.

He turned onto the gravel road leading deeper into the woods.

When he’d set out for Eerie, he hadn’t planned on going to the forest, but the second he crossed the city limits, he’d been drawn here. He couldn’t even explain it. Like the car was being driven by itself.

Impossible.

Yes, he had magic, and Eerie was full of spells, magic and everything else paranormal, but the car wasn’t driving itself. He wasn’t rich enough to have one of those vehicles. This was something different.

Something stronger.

He continued farther into the woods, shocked by the darkness. This wasn’t his first time venturing into the forests of Eerie. The area that hid the town appeared to be only a few hundred acres on a map. But that was the magic of Eerie. It might not appear big, but once one started exploring, the place was huge.

As he drove, he noticed a woman walking among the trees. Seeing someone in the woods wasn’t strange. The fact the woman wore a filmy dress and had flowing blonde hair was the eye-catching part. He slowed his pace and cast a longer glance at her. Her pale skin practically seemed transparent. Gods, if a stiff breeze blew through, she’d fall over. She had no meat on her bones.

Some might find her gorgeous. She had that stick-thin look going for her, with more bones than curves. She cut a striking figure among the trees.

He liked women with a little more curve.

The woman rushed up to him. “Come to me.”

Part of him wanted to. Just stop the vehicle, leave, and follow her. The rational part of his brain refused to comply. This had to be a spell. Had to be something to bring him to his doom.

Except he’d initially set out for Eerie with the plan to end his life. He’d thought that was what he wanted, but he’d never followed through with his spur-of-the-moment intentions. Gods, he’d loved Sally, but she wasn’t worth him doing something so drastic. Never had been.

The woman stopped in front of his car and pointed to him, then crooked her finger. “Come with me.”

He flicked the button to lock the car. Why in Hades had he done that? If this was magic, she could come into his vehicle despite the damn locks.

“Come with me,” she repeated. Then the woman winked.

As she did, he collided with something hard. Not just hard, but immediate. He rocked forward, smacking his face into the airbag. The wind rushed from his lungs, and he groaned. His limbs ached. What in Hades had just happened?

He blinked to clear his vision. Smoke wafted through the air and the bag deflated.

“Odin’s sake.” The door opened and a person reached into the car.

When he looked at the speaker, his blood chilled. “You’re determined to get me to come with you.” The woman who’d pointed to him was yanking him from the vehicle. “I’m not going with you.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you will.” The woman, almost too thin to be manhandling him, tugged him free of the seat belt. “You’re dying, you fool.”

“Dying?” He’d come to the woods to do himself in but hadn’t wanted to -- not for real. “How?”

“You hit the fucking tree.” She hauled him against her body. “Come on. Use your legs -- or are they broken?”

“I don’t know.” His brain swam. “I’ve got to be concussed.”

“Probably.” She grunted, then tossed him against the side of the car. She waved her hand across his forehead and spoke words he couldn’t understand. Her brow crinkled and her green eyes flashed. Her mouth twisted into a frown. “Can you walk now?”

He hadn’t bothered to try. He stared at her. She looked a lot like the woman who’d called to him, yet nothing like her. After a moment, his brain cooperated, and he forced his legs to move. “Yes,” he managed. He allowed her to slide her arm around him. “What happened?”

“I’ll explain in a moment.” She fumbled across the underbrush to a large tree. When she knocked on the tree, a hunk of the bark opened like a door. “In here.” She didn’t give him a chance to argue. Instead, she shoved him into the tree before closing the door behind her.

“What’s going on?” He leaned against the wall. “I’m so confused. I’ve got to be concussed.”

“You probably are.” She raked her hair back from her face. “You’d better thank your lucky stars I got there in time.”

“Why?” He understood so little.

“That woman who called to you? That’s my twin sister,” she said. “That’s some bad magic you don’t want to mix yourself up in.”

“Jealous?” He’d tried for a bad joke, but it hadn’t worked. “I’m sorry. I don’t get it.”

She flipped a switch, sending light across the space. “Here.” She helped him to a chair. She knelt in front of him, then stared at him before tipping her head. “I get it.”

“I’m glad you do, because I don’t.” He didn’t like riddles or misdirects. “What’s going on?”

“You crashed your car into a tree.”

“I did? I didn’t see anything in front of me.” He’d destroyed his car? Fuck.

“That was the point.”

“What?”

She sighed and folded her arms before sitting back on her heels. “What brought you to Eerie? You’re here, so you must have magic. Why are you here?”



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



RABT Book Tours & PR

Wednesday, June 18, 2025

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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Wednesday, April 30, 2025

Taken by the Maine Coon by Megan Slayer #paranormal @changelingpress

 

Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Urban Fantasy

Date Published: May 2, 2025

 

 

A big cat and a woman without magic could just be the right combination.

 

Meela Durning swears she doesn’t belong in Eerie. She’s not magical. Never has been, but she’s the child of paranormals. When she’s forced to return to Eerie to sort out the problems from her past, she finds a big, fluffy cat. The animal lover in her has to make sure the feline gets home. He could be missing. Someone has to want him, right?

Aslan Maine has known from the moment he met Meela that she was destined to be his. He’s seen her in his dreams. When she picks him up to return him to his rightful home, he can’t hide his secret any longer. He’s no ordinary cat!

She can’t believe her eyes when the fluffball she rescued shifts into the sexiest man she’s ever seen. When he offers her forever, she’s got to decide if she deserves to be alone or to have a future with the handsome shifter.

 

If she can survive her past, she can have him. Right?

 


 

EXCERPT


“Christ, I’m tired.” Meela Durning stretched and cracked her back. She shook her head, then closed her laptop. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in particular. There wasn’t anyone there to hear her. Just as well. When she’d had someone there to listen, he hadn’t listened. Hadn’t wanted to be there, either.

She’d grown used to being alone.

Tonight, she didn’t want to be by herself. It wasn’t like she could poof a man into existence. She’d wanted to try that for ages, but with no magical abilities, a spell was out of the question. She supposed she could summon one, but that only worked in her dreams and she swore it had nothing to do with magic. Just her overly active imagination.

She shrugged, then stretched her legs before standing. The man of her dreams might only be in said dreams, but that didn’t matter. He couldn’t let her down that way. Didn’t have faults. He wanted to be there. Wanted to please her. Wanted to be with her.

Unlike her ex -- the rotten troll.

She sighed and pushed in her chair. She didn’t even have a fish. She’d wanted a cat, but the building manager didn’t permit animals that had fur. Ridiculous rules.

She checked that the apartment door was locked, then picked up her phone before switching off the lights. She padded into the bedroom. Once she tossed the phone onto the bed, she made her way into the bathroom. She stripped out of her shirt, and bra, then her jeans and panties, returning to the bedroom long enough to don her sleep shirt. She brushed her teeth, but her thoughts turned to the man of her dreams.

She paused, mid-brushing. Man of her dreams. That sounded so silly. The only time he’d ever appeared physically, she’d been asleep.

A vision of him formed in her mind. Tall, muscled, but not huge… thick dark-blond hair with just a bit of shag to it. Enough to remind her of a superhero, with his hair blowing in the breeze. Twinkling green eyes, a wicked smile that hinted at mischief, but he’d been a gentleman. A dusting of hair from his navel to below the belt.

She’d never seen his cock, but she’d felt it. Heat washed over her. She swore she’d felt his hands on her body, the way he’d touched her and kissed every inch of her. He took care of her. Treated her like a treasure. Like she had worth.

She knew damn well she had value. It’d taken her years to figure that out, but now that she knew, she wasn’t about to let anyone tell her otherwise. She refused to be a doormat again.

Meela finished in the bathroom and switched off the light before crawling between the sheets. Something in her bed vibrated. For a moment, she thought she’d left a toy from the night before. When a rectangle lit up beneath the blankets, she remembered -- her phone. She must’ve lost it under the blankets when she climbed into bed. She retrieved the irksome device and checked the notifications.

An email. Now what? She swiped to retrieve the message. Overdrawn.

“You have to be kidding me,” she muttered. She swiped to her banking app. Sure enough, the money she’d expected to be deposited there… wasn’t. Her ex-husband hadn’t bothered to pay alimony. Again.

She scrubbed one hand across her forehead, then checked her texts. The asshole hadn’t messaged her. Hadn’t bothered to let her know he’d be a bigger asshole by not paying. She did the math in her head. This was the sixth month in a row he hadn’t bothered to deposit the money. The fucker.

She switched back to her banking app and shifted money from her savings to the checking to cover her bills. Once satisfied everything would be paid out of her wages from the software company, she brought up the chat box to her lawyer.

Eerie, Ohio, wasn’t exactly her favorite place to go. She didn’t belong there. She had paranormal blood, but no magic. Couldn’t conjure, summon, wake the dead… wasn’t a shifter, vampire, necromancer, faerie… Nothing about her was extraordinary. She’d simply been the child of a conjurer and a celebrity psychic. All she had was her bloodline.

But if she wanted to meet with her lawyer, she’d have to go back to the place of her birth. She’d have to head back to Eerie. Would have to talk to Norm Slone, divorce lawyer gnome. His name had a distinctive ring to it. No one forgot him. Thankfully, he could be a junkyard dog in the courtroom, too.

She opened the chat box and sent him a message.

Need to meet with you. Tiernan isn’t paying alimony. Sixth month in a row. Tired of being shafted. Help?

She hit SEND, then darkened the phone and tossed it onto the side table. If Norm Slone had time for her, he’d let her know in the morning. Besides, she didn’t want to give her ex any extra space in her mind. He owned too much as it was. Some days, he lived there rent free. Those were the days she second-guessed divorcing him. She’d loved the troll once, hadn’t she? Thought they could make a future together, right? A woman with no magic and a troll could make things work, in theory. The more she considered her past, the faster she remembered the reason she’d left Tiernan. He’d only married her under the assumption she’d inherit money from her parents.

Wrong.

After the wedding, when he found out she was penniless, he’d walked out. He claimed he wasn’t interested in her any longer. He had to work late. He’d made friends with other people. Their lives were going in different directions. Other days, he simply didn’t speak to her.

He’d packed his belongings up in the middle of the night and walked out.

Her head ached. She’d lost a dozen years of her life to him. Years she could’ve been happy. Could’ve been single but making the best of her situation. Instead, she’d tried her damnedest to keep the marriage together. Tried to make herself loveable to him again.

What a waste. He wasn’t going to love her then or now… or ever. She had to stop living in the past and thinking about what wasn’t going to happen in order to focus on the future -- whatever future she had.

She switched off the light and snuggled in her blankets. She might not be living with anyone, but then again, she didn’t have to share the bed. Didn’t have to argue with anyone. Didn’t have to explain herself. But the loneliness overwhelmed her at times.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to forget the day, forget her situation for a little while. Forget her Ex. Time to dream. She loved her dreams. Her mysterious stranger showed up when she closed her eyes.

 

 

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.

 

Author on Facebook

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Author on Instagram

 

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

 

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