The Camp Shifter Series by DJ Jennings #Paranormal #Romance #KU

 

The Camp Shifter Series by DJ Jennings is Now in KU!

Series Description:  This paranormal romantic comedy series features standalone stories set at Camp Shifter, a mandatory training facility where adults receive "The Letter" summoning them to learn shifter ways. After experiencing The Morph—the transformation that reveals their animal nature—they must master everything from controlling their shifter forms to navigating public nudity with confidence. Camp Shifter provides classes taught by experienced shifters and serves as a community where people from all walks of life must accept a reality fundamentally altered by their newfound status.

Throughout the series, Camp Shifter serves as the backdrop for fated mate romances featuring humor, heat, and heart. Special events like DarkNight create opportunities for connection in a community where transformation extends beyond the physical. With big misunderstandings, opposites-attract dynamics, and forced proximity bringing unlikely pairs together, these romantic comedies blend lighthearted fun with sensual content as characters learn that accepting their shifter identities and finding love often go hand in hand.

Titles:  Owl Be Bear for You, You Shook Me Howl Night Long, DarkNight of the Moon

Book Descriptions:

Owl Be Bear for You

Hot summer fun where you’ll change…in more ways than one.
Librarian Mara Scioto lives a nice, neat, orderly existence—except when she’s being attacked by uncontrolled male shifters who need to mate.
Pesky little detail, right?
Raised by a grandmother who hates all shifters, she has one wish: to make it past the age of twenty-five without experiencing The Morph that tells you you’re one of them.
And then the letter from Camp Shifter arrives with her name on it...
Orthopedic surgeon in training Jack Karsten is waiting to see if he’ll follow in his shifter brother’s footsteps. Being a shifter won’t be so bad, if that’s his destiny, but when he meets Mara, he realizes that fate and love don’t always align.
But love always wins.
It can be a bear of an ordeal sorting it all out, but if anyone can help, it’s the staff at Camp Shifter. While they’ll train Jack and Mara on the ways of shifter life, there’s one thing they can’t teach them:
How to get out of their own way and let love leave them changed.
Forever.

You Shook Me Howl Night Long

Eliot “Pole” Elianzo is a god in college football, and he knows it. Too bad he’s also a polar bear. The Morph happens on national television, right after a pro team picks him in the draft. It’s official–Pole is a shifter. And boy, is he livid. He can’t choose practice over his mandatory stay at Camp Shifter, but he sure can make camp a nightmare for everyone. Especially the hot ash blonde who’s teaching Undressed in Public 101 classes. Risa Devaneau can’t believe Pole’s in her class, in the first row, and very, very undressed. The former sportscaster and wolf shifter ran away from her testosterone-filled career for the quiet peace of Camp Shifter. Sure, teaching people how to be undressed in public isn’t exactly the most prestigious job, but it got her away from the city. From her overly controlling politician father. From her past. From Pole. And here he is, smirking at her, front and center. In his birthday suit.

DarkNight of the Moon

He lurks in shadows and mystery at Camp Shifter, coming out only during DarkNight, the wild, bacchanalian free-for-all where anything goes.

Anything.
No one has seen him in the daylight, no one knows where he lives, no one knows his name–and the shifter nicknamed DarkLover by women, DarkDude by men, will do anything to keep it that way.
Andie Cumbington has been waiting her whole life for The Letter. One of the few shifters who is ecstatic about her newfound status, the chestnut-haired ballerina bear shifter arrives for her month at Camp Shifter with unbridled excitement. On her first DarkNight, she finds wild passion and–to her surprise–so much more, with a stranger who touches her heart as much as he lights up her body.
And then he’s gone, back into the shadows, hidden.
Exactly where he wants to be.
Craving his touch with an insatiable desire, Andie can’t let go. She always wanted the roll in the hay, but she never imagined the passion would be so intense.
Fate drives her to find love.
Then a simple errand turns into mortal danger for Andie, and an impossible choice as DarkLover must overcome his biggest fear in order to save the woman he loves.
But will it be too late?

Amazon/KU Series Link:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PT45ZLW

Amazon/KU Link for Owl Be Bear for You ($4.99):  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B073ZMCJPX

Amazon/KU Link for You Shook Me Howl Night Long ($4.99):  https://www.amazon.com/Shook-Howl-Night-Long-Shifter/dp/1799035832/

Amazon/KU Link for DarkNight of the Moon ($4.99):  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1950172147

About the Author: 

The author of the Camp Shifter series, Darla Josephine “DJ” Jennings, is originally from Ohio but now lives in Massachusetts in a household full of people who drive her nuts, but she loves them anyhow. She fills her days with writing, business management, and the never-ending task of herding cats. Learn more about her in the New York Times bestselling novel, Random Acts of Crazy by Julia Kent, where she stars as one of the main characters. That’s right! DJ Jennings isn’t real, but Julia Kent sure is.

Website:  http://jkentauthor.com/

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

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/jkentauthor

Newsletter:  http://bit.ly/2PIBi9n

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/jkentauthor/

BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/dj-jennings

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17035252.D_J_Jennings

Amazon Author Page:  https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B07568TW8X

Excerpt: DarkNight of the Moon

Andie sat in her 9 a.m. class, Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, and tried really hard to be aware and present.

She failed.

Shira Prakash was a wise old woman, slow and incredibly bendy. As she stared at her teacher’s braid, the long, tight weave of it going all the way down past the woman’s butt crack, Andie wondered whether Shira was a snake or a sloth. She’d learned here at Camp Shifter that asking someone what kind of animal they were could be a landmine. Some people were excited to share the reality with you.

Others found the question to be an invasion of privacy.

Andie was an open book, so she didn’t understand the people who were more introverted and secretive about the kind of animal they became when nature took over. Weren’t they all here to learn about and explore the core self?

These thoughts filled her mind, all jumbled and spinning as she sat with her legs crossed, the backs of her hands pressing into her knees. If she were being graded for Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, she would definitely be failing the course.

“Imagine your core animal,” Shira said, her elegant fingers stretching long and splayed as she moved her arm to the right, like a large bird, wings and feathers spreading. “You are receiving their vibration into your root chakra.”

A fox shifter named Sally leaned over and whispered, “What’s a chakra?”

Andie’s stomach growled in response. “I don’t know, but it sounds pretty tasty.”

Giggling, Sally quickly righted herself and closed her eyes again, hands in proper meditation position as the teacher cocked one eyebrow but said nothing. The fox's red hair rested in long tendrils on her shoulders, her slightly slanted eyes beautiful when closed.

“If it is hard to focus,” Shira said, “consider labeling what you are experiencing inside, as you attempt to peel back layer after layer to access your inner shifter. No one is perfect when it comes to meditation. In fact, that is why we call it practice,” she continued.

Andie felt an enormous sense of relief at that. At least there was a reason why she couldn’t figure out how to do this. Calming her mind was as foreign to her as climbing Mount Everest.

“When you find yourself invaded by stray thoughts that take you away from accessing the emptiness that you seek, just give them a name: ‘That’s a thought.’ When you think about lunch as you’re trying to find your inner animal, think to yourself, ‘That’s a thought.’ When your mind drifts to a bill you forgot to pay, or a craving for coffee, or ‘Did I remember to take my medication this morning?’, just tell yourself, ‘Oh! That’s a thought’; ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Sally leaned over and whispered, “And if you can’t stop thinking about DarkLover, ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Andie covered her mouth, giggling hard. She had felt him outside, her pores tingling and alert, aware of him out there. How do you go through session after session of training, she wondered to herself, when the very person you want to meet most is there on the periphery? He was on the edges of the camp, she knew.

No one had told her this. It was more than instinct, even. She knew it, the way that she knew who she was. It was there, planted deep inside her by some force she didn’t understand. Nothing in her life had compared to this feeling, pure sensation and an intuitive knowing combined inside to create a strange power that connected her to him.

Was she imagining this? Was her obsession with DarkLover running amok, just some wish-fulfillment frenzy that she was indulging?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she met him.

 Release blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.

 

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 Facebook

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

Preorder Today

 

VENGEFUL FIRE by Mikala Ash

Dark Fantasy / Paranormal Romance

Date Published: February 6, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

Heat rages out of control as the pub burns. The only thing hotter is the woman watching the flames.

Diana Kendall just had an argument with the owner of Cornwall’s pub. Now Cornwall’s is burning to the ground. Diana’s an enigma, an artist, beautiful and intelligent, but strangely aloof. How can Mike resist? But when he wakes up the next morning, Diana’s gone.

It’s not until Mike sees a naked woman disappear into an art gallery with a wolf at her side that the real trouble starts. The woman looks incredibly like Diana. But what is the mysterious apparition trying to tell him?

Mike needs to find out what’s really going. Does Diana’s fiery past tell the story, or will he get burnt by Vengeful Fire?

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2026 Mikala Ash

As he watched the flames, Mike wondered if Prometheus had known what he was doing when he stole fire from the gods and turned it over to mankind. Humans had been nothing but trouble ever since.

The alcohol fueled flames consuming Cornwall’s Pub were hypnotic -- mesmerizing and beautiful. They writhed in an almost sensual way. No, Mike corrected himself. The flames were sensual -- the rhythmic way the tongues of fire bent and unbent were undoubtedly sexual, as if they were alive, pyrrhic creatures in the throes of orgasm, riding the stiff wooden beams that fueled their passion. There was even a sense of playful capriciousness about the sound of splintering beams, which created a staccato beat cheekily mimicking the act -- the fucking act, the act of fucking.

Mike thought there was even something sexual about the words that described fire. Tongues of flame that licked, seething cauldrons of searing molten heat, glowing embers pulsing white hot, bursting explosions of showering sparks, inflamed… His mental thesaurus eventually failed him and he settled in to enjoy the show.

Several roof beams collapsed with a whoosh. Sparks showered the street and plumes of acrid smoke belched out of the roiling flames.

Mike looked forward to the climax of the act, when the last sinews of structure that held the roof aloft would melt, bend and break as the building collapsed completely into the smoldering debris of orgasm.

Moments later there was another explosion, no doubt the last of the bottles of bourbon, gin and scotch that had lined the mirrored bar. The firecracker bangs brought a cheer from the fickle crowd, who twenty minutes earlier had been drinking and singing within the Cornwall’s convivial walls. The crowd, Mike thought, were like jilted lovers who laughed self-consciously at the misfortunes of an unfaithful ex-partner.

Adrenaline still pumped madly through Mike’s veins as if he’d just come inside the cock-melting pussy of some stranger. He had reason. He’d been the one who’d shouted the alarm causing these rats to desert the sinking ship. Not one, he noted, had stayed to fight the hungry flames. No one had been loyal and true, though they’d drunk there, as he had, for the last several years. Ten minutes after the final climax of this act of consuming passion they’d likely be drinking at someone else’s bar. He felt unaccountably guilty, like the concerned friend who had to break the news of an infidelity. Knowing that what he did would have ramifications beyond a simple busted relationship. A step once taken…

Across from him, in the semicircle of voyeurs, stood a dark-haired girl, tall and lithe. He remembered her from earlier in the night. She was a stranger to the bar, a newbie, attractive enough to stop conversation… at least on the men’s parts and, he recalled, some of the girls too.

The pulsating conflagration illuminated her pensive face. She had striking features; high cheekbones, full lips, large dark eyes and long straight ebony hair that reached her waist. She seemed strangely familiar but he couldn’t place her. She wasn’t someone overtly famous, someone who was always in your face like a movie star. More likely she was a lingerie model or perhaps he’d seen her in a TV commercial.

His interest in her had been heightened, of course, by the ruckus she’d caused. An argument with the manager of the place, that stuck up prick Cornwall himself.

There followed a brief, angry exchange with the bouncer who’d been instructed to escort her furious body off the premises. Mike had left his seat to go to her assistance but she’d been too quickly ejected and by the time he’d reached the street she’d gone.

She’d returned an hour or so later, just before he raised the alarm about the fire. He noticed she’d come in the side door that led from the alley. Her serious and cunning expression reminded him of a jilted lover who can’t resist sneaking into the ex’s bedroom. The scene of so many orgasms; where so much cum had been ejaculated, spilled, and swallowed. Just once more to lie on the sodden sheets of love.

Mike made a decision and moved between the drunken observers and stood beside her. Amazingly, despite the choking, plastic laden smoke that swirled around them, she smelled of… oranges.

“Hi there,” he said.

“Do I know you?”

She hadn’t looked at him. Her eyes were fixed on the firefighters, those modern knights with watery lances who battled the angry chimera; the mindless fire-breathing beast.

“No. I saw you earlier when you had a row with that prick Cornwall.”

“So?”

“I really don’t think you should be standing here. The fire chief will tell the police that the fire was deliberately lit. The police will then interview the staff and they’ll describe you and they’ll see you here watching the place burn down. Not a good look.”

She turned to face him then, dark eyes sizing him up. The rippling flames were reflected in them and he found himself lost in those glowing embers, looking for his silhouette.

“What do you have in mind?”

Infidelity, a sweet, sweet friend. “The smoke has made me thirsty. I know a bar across town that’s not so… hot.”

Her full lips curled into a smile. One last look at the inferno and a shrug as if it didn’t matter anymore. The deed was done. “Lead the way.”

Mike took her arm in his and pulled her gently through the swelling crowd, now ten deep. The Cornwall had been popular and would, no doubt because of its prime location, be rebuilt and open for business within six months. Bigger and better, like a whore returning to her favorite corner after a boob job.

The Glass Half Full was a pretentious little dive frequented by philosophy students. Mike liked it. Some of the regulars even knew his name. She gave it an appraising glance through the frosted windows before nodding and following him in.

“What do you do?” she asked once settled on a high stool at a round pedestal table.

Mike couldn’t help but notice how her full breasts rested on the tabletop. “Webpage designer. And you?”

“Student. Art.”

“I guessed it.”

“And how did you do that?” she said tiredly.

He lowered his eyes to her hands. “Paint on your fingertips.”

She laughed and the pure tones resonated playfully in his ears. “I could be a house painter.”

“Interior design?” he countered.

“Renaissance art.”

“Ah, ceilings. Just as good. Forgive me, but I may not know art but I…”

“… yeah, yeah, don’t say it.”

He took a sip of his beer but couldn’t take his eyes off her. He felt strangely comfortable being with her. No nerves at all, which was unusual, given the circumstances. He was, after all, sitting with a stunningly beautiful woman who he desperately wanted to fuck.

Usually, whenever he was alone with a new girl, he had butterflies the size of eagles flying out of formation in his stomach. “I was in the art gallery just the other day,” he said suddenly to fill the silence. “And I realized the thing about reality is that it’s, in fact, an illusion.”

He shuddered inside. What an incredibly stupid passé thing to say. She’d think him a pretentious prat, which was precisely what he was at that very moment.

She lent toward him, unaccountably interested. “How so?”

“Well, meaningless rays of light enter our eyes and excite some neurons. Neuro-chemicals jump across synapses. These excite more neurons. A pulse of electrical current travels to the next synapse and so on until eventually our brain sorts them into some sort of matrix we can consciously interpret.”

Her nod of interest urged him on. “But it’s an illusion, something our brains make up. It’s all a fiction. There are gaps, things we don’t see, because of lighting or perspective. Our brain fills in those gaps with assumptions and pre-conceived ideas. We see what we expect to see. Due to our common brain structure and culture we fill the gaps the same way and the result is we all share the same illusion.”

She licked her bottom lip and for a moment he lost his train of thought.

“Like a mass hallucination?” she prompted.

He nodded, grateful for her lifeline. “Something like that. I know it’s been said before. It’s hardly an original thought, but it struck me there in the gallery and for the first time I knew what it meant. There was this painting…”

“How unusual to find one of those in there.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously in the Glass’s dim lighting.

He smiled back. He knew she wasn’t being sarcastic, only getting into the spirit of the absurd that seemed to have fallen about him this evening. He actually liked her. “That’s what I thought,” he said, joining in the fun. “This particular painting was just a mass and swirl of fine lines in blue ink. The title of the painting was “Stand Back,” so I did. And the lines resolved themselves into a face. It was the artist resting her head on her forearm while she drew her own face while looking at a mirror. It was quite brilliant, but it showed me that reality is perception, excuse the cliché. That an alien being seeing that painting, having not seen anything else from Earth, would just see some fine lines in blue ink.”

“And apart from the face, what else did you see that an alien would not have?”

“Emotions are hard to judge.”

“Try.”

He put on an aristocratic English accent. “It’s like looking at paintings from the eighteenth century, don’t you know.”

He saw her lips tighten as she suppressed her laughter. “I don’t.”

“I can see what they have painted -- that shared human knowledge again. But not what’s going on within the minds of the people depicted even though they’re only a few hundred years in the past… because their world view is completely different from ours… they’re an enigma.”

“The girl in blue ink,” she said slowly. “Is she an enigma?”

 

About the Author

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

Author Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

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

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

Pre-Order Today

BY DAWN The 13th House by Martha Wickham #Horror #Paranormal

Horror/paranormal

Date Published: 11-22-2025

Nine Tales. Nine Secrets. All Before Dawn.

In the shadow of Bloomstone Manor, a dilapidated estate hauntingly known as "Lily Lane", the veil between the living and the dead is impossibly thin. This collection of nine paranormal mystery stories explores inheritances, dark family legacies, and spectral demands, all bound by the Manor's enduring, dark influence.

This Halloween, meet the three students who dare to knock on the door of "The 13th House"—a black, unnumbered prison that holds the sinister secrets of the past. Their trick-or-treating leads them to a terrifying collection of artifacts: a bent spoon, a rusted key, and a doll's eye. Every artifact is a clue left by a child who vanished, whispering pleas for help from beyond the grave. The teens must solve the mystery and free the spirits before the night's magic fades, or they might become the next secret the old house keeps.

Every house has a debt. Every ghost has a tether. Uncover the restless spirits and broken promises that demand attention and resolution. When the clock strikes dawn, the secrets settle back into the dust and the lilies—and it may be too late.

Excerpt

Night of the Spirits 

 

Anthony pushed through the thick brush that had swallowed the old path. His friends told him the house was hidden somewhere ahead, rumored to be haunted. When he finally saw it, the place looked half-demolished, with climbing walls that had paint curling and peeling. Yet every window was perfectly intact.

He opened the front door. Stale, cold air rushed out, thick with dust. His footsteps echoed through the empty living room.As he moved down the hallway, the front door suddenly slammed. He spun around and ran back, and in that moment, he was sure he heard a whisper: Sam.The door wouldn’t budge. He was trapped. He tried the windows too none of them opened.

Again, the whisper came, louder this time. Sam.

“Who’s Sam? I’m not Sam!” he shouted.

A hiss answered him, followed by footsteps upstairs. Heart pounding, he raced up the stairs. At the top, he stopped and listened. The footsteps were clear, moving steadily into an empty room. He followed them.

Moonlight spilt across the floor through a bare window. The invisible footsteps crossed the room and came to a stop at the closet. Inside, there was only a small box containing a single book. The spirits wanted him to find it; maybe it would explain everything.

He lifted the book. It was an old, battered ledger. Inside, a name was written: Samuel. He began to read.I made a promise to the spirits trapped here. One of them is buried downstairs. I swore I would help free them with my rituals. I study the occult, and they own a golden statue worth a fortune. It must be used in the ritual. If I hide it now, I can return for it later. No one alive will see me take it.

Anthony reached deeper into the box and pulled out a loose page, a torn sheet from another book. It carried a chant and the instructions for a ritual to free spirits.A freezing gust swept through the room. Then a booming voice declared:“Complete the ritual by dawn, or be trapped here forever!”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked the spirit.

Once again, he heard footsteps descending the stairs and followed them. Near the kitchen, the basement door creaked open. He cautiously stepped down the dark basement steps and saw the cloud-like spirit hovering over a crypt in the floor, where it looked like a ritual had been started over someone’s grave. Candles and matches were scattered nearby.

About the Author

 

Martha Wickham has a knack for finding the ghosts hidden in the dust. A lifelong student of the arcane and the artistic, Martha has an Associate's Degree and professional writing credentials, but she honed her skills in the thrilling shadows of screenwriting and horror. Martha lives for the secrets that only come out "By Dawn". You can discover more of her work, including her newest audiobooks, at your favorite retailer.

Contact Link

Website

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Smashwords

iBooks

Books2Read

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.

Author on Facebook

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

Date Night With Death by Avery Arujo #Paranormal #Mystery #Romance

Welcome to Moonridge, Book 2

Paranormal Mystery/Romance

Date Published: September 23, 2025

Welcome to Moonridge, where the ghosts have come out to play and Death just checked into the local B&B.

Running a B&B in a town cursed by magical drama wasn’t Mina Cartwright’s dream job, but it’s home. After all of the werewolf debacle over the summer, business has flatlined, and she’s barely holding on financially. Her last hope? A surprise booking from the cast of The Real Vampire Wives of Obsidian Hills, who are bringing their reality-show chaos (and impeccable fashion) to Moonridge just in time for the Halloween festival.

But the real trouble begins when Dex Grimm, a mysterious, breathtakingly aloof man with a cane and a suspiciously deathly aura, checks into Room Ten. He says he’s a writer. Mina suspects he’s hiding something … like the fact that he might actually be the Grim Reaper.

As ghostly activity spikes, magical boundaries fray, and her guests (living and otherwise) cause mounting mayhem, Mina finds herself caught between a brewing supernatural crisis and a man known primarily as Death who somehow makes her feel more alive than she has in years.

Add in a reality TV crew, rampaging ghosts, and the underlying danger of an ancient evil reawakening in Moonridge, and Mina’s fall season is about to be to die for.

 

About the Author

Avery Arujo is the pen name of a socially anxious, awkward, and proudly introverted author of the paranormal mystery/romance series Welcome to Moonridge. Avery lives in the northern U.S., where the scenery is beautiful, the weather perfect, and the food divine. When not writing, you’ll find Avery watching a horror movie or trashy reality TV or reading under a blanket with a cup of coffee, and the world’s sweetest dog trying to prove that they are more interesting than any old book.

For more information about the Welcome to Moonridge series, or to sign up for the newsletter, visit welcometomoonridge.com.

Contact Links

Website

Instagram

BookBuzz

 

Purchase Links

Amazon

Author Site

MEMPHIS HEAT by Marteeka Karland and Shelby Morgen #Paranormal #Romance @ChangelingPress

 

Paranormal Romance

Date Published: August 1, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

Memphis, Tennessee. The Russian mob has declared war on the MPD, leaving a team of dead cops in their wake, and the city of Memphis caught in their crossfire.

Stakeout (Memphis Heat 1)

Jarod took a bullet to the chest. But he didn’t die. While he was bleeding out, he was bitten. By a werewolf. Now he can smell his partner’s attraction, but his bite didn’t exactly come with instructions. Two partners who always have each other’s backs share everything -- but the one thing they need to share the most.

Streetwise (Memphis Heat 2)

When Officer Butch Carson and his rookie trainee, Regan “Sundance” O’Malley, are caught between the MPD and the Russians, they have no one they can turn to but each other. The more they learn about being werewolves, the tighter their own bond becomes. And the more determined they are to stop the assassins who nearly added them to the growing list of victims.

Strikeforce (Memphis Heat 3)

Lt. Jamie Callahan’s convinced there’s a mole in their pack, and he and his new partner must figure out who set them up -- and who’s responsible for the deaths of their former lieutenants.

Takedown (Memphis Heat 4)

Two packs fight for the heart of the city. The Russian mob and the MPD stand at odds, the city of Memphis caught in the middle. The new Alphas plan to leave their enemies in the dust. But it’s their friends they should be watching out for.

When the final takedown comes, there will only be one Alpha standing.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2025 Marteeka Karland & Shelby Morgen

Excerpt from Stakeout

"You're a real asshole, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes, dear," Jarod answered with a suppressed chuckle in his tone.

She was going to smack him any moment now. "That. That right there. That's the reason you're paying alimony to two ex-wives. Fuck you and your yes, dear. I've had shorter dry spells between engagements. I. Need. To. Fuck. Now!"

"You're just bored."

Belle squirmed in her chair, practically grinding her pussy against the worn upholstery. "No shit. What gave it away?"

"Told you not to come. ADD and stakeouts don't go well together."

She pointed the butt of her service revolver at him, resisting the urge to throw it. "Somebody has to watch your back. Besides. You used to be better at keeping me distracted."

A sideways grin quirked his face. "We used to have... interesting... ways of keeping ourselves entertained, didn't we? Not exactly professional, but..."

"Used to being the operative phrase here. What the hell is wrong with you, anyway?"

"Wrong with me? I got shot, remember?"

As if she could forget. "Yeah. And by all reports you should have died. But you didn't. And ever since you've been treating me like..."

"I'm trying to act like a professional. I've been treating you like a cop. Like my partner."

He attempted to look offended at that. Nearly pulled it off. Professional, my ass. "We were a hell of a lot more than just partners, Jarod. You can't deny that."

"Yeah, well, maybe if I'd been acting a little more like a cop and a lot less like your lover, we wouldn't have been in a position where you could have gotten killed." The bitterness in his tone surprised her.

She kept her voice low and steady, bottling up the frustrated anger that threatened to overwhelm her. "I wasn't the one who got shot, Jarod."

"Could have. Could have been you first up that alley, just as easy as me. And it would have been my fault."

This argument was getting them nowhere. Damn it, she was horny as hell and he was right there! "Shut up and fuck me --" she reached for her police baton -- "Or I'll do it myself."

Binoculars focused on the dilapidated warehouse across the street, he didn't even glance her way. "Go ahead."

Did he think she wouldn't? Staring at Jarod's lovely backside, Belle unzipped her jeans and shimmied them down her hips enough to give herself access to her pussy lips. It was his own fault. He was tall, handsome, built and reasonably single, if you didn't count the excess baggage, but she still might have resisted -- if he didn't smell like liquid sex poured into a cop suit. She wanted to reach over, undo his belt, and suck his cock right down to the root. Then they'd see how professional he could be. Fuckhead.

With that thought Belle kicked the jeans the rest of the way off and switched the baton around so the handle lined up with her pussy. With one thrust she impaled herself right down to the crossbar.

Fucker. If he didn't get off on that, he was gay.

"Shit, Belle! What the hell are you doing?"

"We're undercover. Normal people do not sit in sleazy, run-down motels next to vacant buildings for hours at a time and stare at locked doors. Only reason to be here is to fuck."

As if he'd suddenly gotten into the spirit of things, Jarod reached out and grabbed her shoulders, throwing her against the window. His mouth found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and he bit down with more aggression that she was used to from him, but she was so horny, she didn't give a shit.

He yanked her head back, and his mouth found hers in a jaw-breaking kiss before he broke away, pushing her back. "You wanna play? Fine. Your turn to watch the Russians." He pulled her closer and spun her around. She braced her hands on the dirty plate glass window...

 

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts (which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

 

Author Links

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today

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.

Author Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

Author on Instagram

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

Pre-Order Today

GRAVE WIND by Janice Tremayne #Horror #Paranormal #Fiction

Haunting Dahlia Series, Book One

Horror, Supernatural, Paranormal

Date Published: June 30, 2025

A cursed lighthouse, a malevolent shapeshifter, and a deadly game. One life-altering decision could seal their fate.

In Solitary Island, Australia. A malevolent shapeshifter haunts a storm-battered lighthouse. When Dahlia confronts an ancient secret, she must make a life-or-death sacrifice to save herself and Paranormal Jack from a terrifying entity trapped between worlds.

Caught in a twisted game, Dahlia is forced to make an impossible choice—one of them must die for the other to survive.

As Paranormal Jack fights to escape the lighthouse's sinister grip, he must explore the human fear of death and what lies beyond to uncover the horrifying truth. Betwixt has been claiming the souls of those who enter the lighthouse for centuries, and its curse runs deep.

As fate hangs in the balance, Dahlia must uncover the dark history of the Island and make a desperate bid before the evil grave wind takes hold.

Grave Wind is the first book in the Haunting Dahlia series. This riveting tale, packed with unforgettable characters, heart-pounding paranormal investigations, and shocking twists, will leave readers spellbound. If you were hooked by the eerie tension of Dean Koontz's Phantoms, this electrifying story is must-read.

About the Author

Janice Tremayne, hailing from Australia, is a celebrated author specializing in supernatural horror. Her novel "Haunting in Hartley" achieved finalist status in the Readers' Favorite 2020 International Book Awards in the category of fiction-supernatural, clinching the prestigious Distinguished Favorite Prize for paranormal horror at the New York City Big Book Awards. Janice's literary prowess was further acknowledged with the silver medal at the IPPY Awards 2021 in the Australia/New Zealand/Pacific Rim – Best Regional Fiction category, as well as the Bronze Award in Adult Fiction at the Wishing Shelf Independent Book Awards 2020. In 2023, she secured the Literary Titan Gold Book Award, a testament to her excellence in writing.

Residing in Melbourne with her family, Janice intricately weaves cultural superstitions into her narratives, drawing from her upbringing where such beliefs were deeply embedded in daily life and customs. Her bestselling series, "Haunting Clarisse," has consistently soared to the top of Amazon Kindle rankings, captivating readers with its blend of occult supernatural, ghosts, haunted houses, and British horror.

Janice's journey as an author began with a simple cup of coffee, sparking the inspiration to translate her fascination with cultural superstitions into gripping tales of horror. Her books are renowned for delivering heart-thumping, bone-chilling, and thought-provoking paranormal experiences, each narrative offering a fresh twist that keeps readers enthralled worldwide.

Stay updated on Janice Tremayne's latest releases by following the author.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

BookBuzz

Purchase Link

Amazon