Uncertain Foundations by Emily Carrington #lgbtq #paranormal #mmbooks #excerpt #comingsoon #rabtbooktours @CarringtonEmily @ChangelingPress @RABTBookTours

LGBTQ, Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Date Published: May 17, 2024

 

 

They’ve been there for each other through death and life, through pain and joy. Their love life has held them together through all external dangers. But what happens when the threat seems to come from within?

Charlie, half werewolf, has never felt so uncertain. Everything he’s trusted in — his eyesight, his psychic ability, his confidence in making decisions — is under attack. Even his mate, his Life dancer, Luis, seems untrustworthy.

Luis, a psychic vampire, is consumed by terror and paranoia. Unable to tell fact from fiction, and feeling Charlie pulling away, he lashes out.

These two lovers who have stood the test of time find themselves on unsteady ground. Can their love prevail despite the terror working its way through the pack?

 

EXCERPT

Luis stood his back to a wall. He gazed across the crowded room to his Life
Dancer, who was shaking hands with Princess Angelina Oakland. Scanning the
princess’s living room quickly, Luis noted the approaching dawn
lightening the sky in the east and the Pakistani land dragon speaking
quietly with Claudette, the water dragon from Western New York. He felt like
a stalker, watching all these people in their final moments of conversation
and leave-taking, but he wouldn’t let Charlie, his Life Dancer, be
alone. Too much had happened during this last delegate gathering.

“Go downstairs,” Charlie said, turning his head away from the
princess to meet Miguel’s gaze. The blood-dependent vampire, slave to
the darkness of night, was swaying on his feet.

“You are leaving,” Miguel said.

“This morning,” Charlie agreed.

“I wanted to say thank you.” He nodded to Princess Angelina.
“To you as well, Your Highness. I have lived without hope for many
years. To have it again is a marvelous blessing. And it wouldn’t have
been possible, Tilthos Charles, without your assistance.”

“You’re welcome, but if you thank me again, I’m going to
have to demand payment.” Charlie sounded more concerned than flippant
despite his words. “Go. Down. Stairs. We’ll meet
again.”

Miguel shook hands with both of them and headed from the room.

He passed close to Luis and said softly, “Your lover is a beacon of
hope.” Then he was gone.

Luis watched Charlie making the rounds of the other magical creatures in
the room. All of these others were ignoring Luis, as if he was just a
bodyguard. That suited Luis just fine. Charlie didn’t really need his
protection, not in this room, and not usually in the world at large. The
leader of all the werewolves on this and the southern continent was only
half werewolf, and visually impaired also, but he’d held his position
without others defending him for over half a decade. He was confident. He
was strong.

And sexy as hell.

Luis firmly turned his thoughts from that particular channel because some
of the magical creatures gathered here had great senses of smell.
They’d know he was aroused if he allowed himself the luxury of
thinking of his Life Dancer without clothes on.

Charlie’s thoughts drifted through Luis’s mind, his psychic
tone lightly teasing. I think it’s too late for you to hide
anything.

Luis smirked and thought back, Good.

Gradually, the heads of this or that species left, taking their chauffeured
rides to private airplanes. Agent Jack Sowerby would be meeting some of them
at Baltimore-Washington International Airport, but some wouldn’t allow
the new head of SearchLight to see them off. Claudette, the water dragon,
was one of these, preferring to keep her exact departure a secret.

Luis knew she was flying out of Dulles, the airport south of here in
Virginia, but he was a tracker. It was his job to know the comings and
goings of those who might be a threat to SearchLight. Or to his Life
Dancer.

As the room emptied, he wondered if the princess would let him and Charlie
have one last fling in the bedroom she’d set aside for them. Although,
even if she did, Charlie might not want to hang around. He was anxious to
get back to their displaced pack.

“Tilthos Charles, do you need to rest before starting on your drive
home?” Princess Angelina asked as if she’d read Luis’s
mind. He didn’t think she had telepathy, and his shields were mostly
up anyway.

“That would be a better question for Luis, since I can’t
drive,” Charlie said, sounding amused. He tapped the end of his white
cane on the parquet floor. “Thank you, but I think we should get
going.”

Luis thought, keeping it hidden from his Life Dancer, Damn. And I was
hoping to be driving without blue balls.

Still, he had to admit he wanted to get home. And not just so that the
Tilthos Pack could return from where they’d been scattered to when all
the dominant protectors were occupied here in DC and Maryland. Luis had
concerns about those pack members here: Jeremy, Ethan, and Charlie.

Jeremy and Ethan would be driving back at some point soon, but first, Ethan
needed to regain his human shape. He’d taken to sticking close to
Jeremy and their son, Will, but in his werewolf guise. It was as if he
thought being in four-footed would somehow protect him from further
pain.

Luis had absolutely no doubt Jeremy would take care of his mate. The Night
Wanderer was protective anyway, and since Ethan had been forced to —

“Luis?”

He blinked, startled out of his thoughts by his Life Dancer calling his
name. Charlie stood about ten feet away, his gaze unfocused, as it always
was when he wasn’t trying to read some large print or looking at a
picture eight-year-old Will had drawn.

Luis crossed to him and touched his shoulder. “What is it?” he
asked gently.

“I guess you missed the change in plans.”

Luis smiled guiltily. “I was lost in my own world.”

“I realized –” Charlie said, lowering his voice and bending so
he could put his mouth next to Luis’s ear. “I need you before we
head out.”

Luis’s cock raised its head and he felt his asshole constrict in
anticipation. “Not here,” he ventured.

“Well, in this house, but, no, not in the living room. If we stained
any of her pillows or cushions, I’m sure Angelina would throw us out
and bill us through the nose.” He took Luis’s hand, pressing the
shaft of the white cane between their palms. “Will you guide
me?”

Luis knew Charlie didn’t mean that literally. He was independent to a
fault, was Tilthos Charles McLaughlin, alpha above all alphas. But having
Charlie make the request made Luis harder still. He kissed Charlie’s
palm and then encouraged him to take his arm.

Swinging his cane out before his feet, Charlie “followed” Luis
up the stairs and down the hall. The warmth of his hand, firm on the back of
Luis’s arm, was ambrosia to the anxiety Luis had been feeling for the
last week or so. Charlie trusted him. He glanced back and saw
Charlie’s eyes were closed and his cane no longer touched the floor.
He was letting Luis guide him completely.

Luis’s heart rose and he swallowed against sudden, stupid tears.
“Te amo, Charlie,” he whispered.

A mischievous smile lit Charlie’s dark and handsome features.
“Of course, you do.”

Luis snorted. But before he could retort, Charlie stopped walking and
pulled Luis into a tight embrace. Luis inhaled, loving the scent of his
lover’s aftershave.

“I love you too. Now, come on. I need you.”

 

About the Author

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

Contact Links

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

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

 

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Obedience by Isabella Jordan #preorder #comingsoon #paranormalromance #pnr @ChangelingPress @RABTBookTours

Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Romantic Comedy

Date Published: May 10, 2024

A princess with a problem…

Meela must marry a prince from another planet in order to ensure the security of her people. Trouble is Meela’s known to be a bit feisty, and sometimes that gets her into trouble. It’s bad enough she has no say in who she’ll marry. Worse still, the queen places an obedience curse on Meela to thwart her errant ways.

As a result of the curse, Meela finds herself in plenty of predicaments not exactly fit for a princess. But what’s a princess to do when two gorgeous hunks come along and place sensual demands on her Meela’s not sure she can — or even wants to — deny?

 

 

 

EXCERPT

 

Meela stared into the flowing red river before kneeling on the grassy bank
to sulk. The red colored water rushing by her looked like blood. There were
so many red rivers on the planet that they’d looked like veins on its
surface to Meela when the star cruiser she’d traveled in approached it
earlier.

Now that she was here, she wished that someone had told her to throw
herself in the river. Her nurse had only told her to take a walk to calm her
mind. It was a rare freedom for Meela. Probably her last.

Today was the day Meela had been preparing for her whole life. Later today
she would be presented to the queen of this planet along with two other
princesses from neighboring planets. The queen would then allow her sons to
each choose the girl he wanted for his bride beginning with her oldest son,
her heir.

It wasn’t that Meela minded the arranged marriage. She was a princess after
all and her duty was to her people. Her marriage to a Prince of Nelot, the
strongest planet with the most powerful army in the system, would ensure the
protection of her people. She’d been promised in marriage since her birth
and all of her teachings were in preparation for fulfilling this
obligation.

Meela accepted that.

But when she was sixteen, the Queen of Nelot, a sorceress she was to find
out, paid a visit to Meela and her family on their home planet, Bano. She
wanted to meet Meela, considering one day she would be the bride of one of
her sons.

The queen was pleased with Meela. A little too pleased in fact. She
explained to Meela’s parents that their daughter was indeed beautiful,
cultured and intelligent — befitting a Princess of Nelot. But she felt
those very virtues put Meela in danger from others and from herself until
the wedding, so she placed an enchantment upon Meela. From that day forward,
Meela would be obedient, would do whatever she was told, until her future
husband arranged her release from the spell.

Her life had been misery ever since.

At first, Meela and her family didn’t realize just what curse had been
bestowed upon her. A few nights later Meela became angry at her father for
not allowing her some privilege. She sat complaining in her rooms while her
nurse brushed her hair. Finally her frustrated nurse told her to hold her
tongue.

It had taken several hours for the entire family to discover that someone
had to tell Meela to let go of her tongue before she could pry her fingers
away.

It got worse. While her parents enjoyed their new power over Meela, the
power to make her work at her studies longer and attend royal functions in
their places, soon they learned there was a danger to the curse. Once, one
of Meela’s friends at court had dared her to kiss the handsome visiting
ambassador from the planet Dalu. Unable to stop herself, she’d walked right
up to the man and kissed him full on the mouth.

Her parents had been so alarmed by the turn of events that she was placed
under the strictest watch until the time of her wedding. No more fun outings
with her friends. No more boring royal functions even. Meela was only
allowed to attend the most important celebrations on her planet, and then
only for a short time with at least a dozen people watching her every
movement. They might as well have locked her away in a prison.

Perhaps that is what the Queen of Nelot had intended when she’d placed the
enchantment on her.

Years passed while the Princes of Nelot fought off one legion of intruders
to their system after another, the stories of their glorious victories
painting them as great warriors. By the time the Queen of Nelot sent for
Meela for the bridal selection and subsequent wedding, she was twenty-seven,
going out of her mind with boredom, and had taken to finding creative ways
of watching the private activities of guests to the palace. It was as close
as she had ever come to having sex after all.

And now that she was here on Nelot, ready to be selected by one of the
queen’s sons and do her duty for her parents and her people, she was pretty
damned unhappy. Wasn’t it enough of a sacrifice to have the person she’d
spend her life with, share a bed with and have children for, chosen for her?
Then to have the hateful curse of obedience placed on her, robbing her of
her last years of freedom?

Meela no longer wanted to marry any son of the woman who had done this to
her. Meela didn’t even want to meet the princes.

“It’s not fair,” Meela grumbled at her reflection far below in
the red water.

“What’s not fair?”

That deep male voice alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone.
With as much composure as she could muster, Meela turned her head slowly.
She was unescorted, without any of her attendants who understood her
enchantment, for the first time since she had kissed the ambassador at
court. The pace of her heartbeat grew along with her anxiety.

“That I can’t stay and enjoy this beautiful view,” Meela said in
her best royal voice with her practiced princess smile.

Yet she forgot all about how she was to speak or smile as she gazed at the
two men standing before her, their dress indicating that they were common
soldiers of the planet. They looked very much alike, both tall men with
bodies of steel, the snug black uniforms they wore revealing that they were
all hard, firm muscles.

 

About the Author

Isabella Jordan is the alter ego of an otherwise stressed out web designer, programmer, and internet junkie. When she’s not trying to perfect her own personal caffeine IV drip, she enjoys spending time with her family, doing volunteer work, and writing. She loves creating new stories of all kinds and chatting with readers and friends.

Isabella would love to hear from her readers!

 

Author Website

 

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

 

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Knox (Grim Road MC, Book 4) by Marteeka Karland #excerpt #comingsoon #motorcycleclubromance #rabtbooktours @changelingpress @RABTBookTours

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: May 10, 2024

 

 

Evelyn: My life fell apart right before my eyes. The fire and losing everything we had was bad enough, but when my boyfriend’s father convinces me to go to the hospital, the one thing me and my kids had left evaporates like a plume of smoke when I see their father with his… pregnant wife. Not only do I feel like a complete fool, I’m left to explain things to my children. Then there’s Knox. He’s my boyfriend Danny’s older brother. The one everyone thought was dead. The one who’s an older, bigger, scarier version of Danny. He is so gentle with me and my children, so protective when he has no reason to be. He’s also the man I have no hopes of resisting.

Knox: I let my family think I was dead for fifteen years. There were multiple reasons. Not the least of which was securing a steady income for my father after Danny blew through everything he had. I tried to keep tabs on them, especially after Mom died, but I didn’t dig deep enough. As a result, Danny’s girlfriend, Evelyn, is in the crosshairs of something very sinister. Once I find out who’s responsible, there will be hell to pay. No matter who brought death to those I love, I will make them pay. When I do, I’ll be putting the loyalty of my club to the test. When it’s all over, I hope Evelyn will be able to forgive me. Because I’ve fallen in love with my brother’s woman and no one will come between us. No one.

 

WARNING: Knox includes scenes of graphic violence and adult situations including those that may be triggers for some readers. There’s also a protective hero, a determined heroine, and an eventual happy ending. No
cheating, as always.

 

 

EXCERPT

Evelyn

 

Fire.

Smoke.

I clung to Luke and Aneshya, trying my best to shield them from the chaos
around us. We coughed as we tried to make our way down the hall, but the
smoke was so thick, it was pitch-black inside the cramped space.

“We’ve gotta get out of here!” Mr. Knoxville from across
the hall was the children’s grandfather. The man always looked out for
us, even when his son couldn’t. “Evelyn!”

“We’re over here!” I clutched my children close. We had a
damp bed sheet over the three of us, but it wouldn’t do much for long.
The smoke was getting thicker and there was no way a bed sheet was going to
protect us from fire. “I can’t find Danny! He was just
here!” I coughed and coughed as I sucked in a lungful of smoke with
every breath. Luke tried to push me down, but I resisted. I needed to get my
family to safety and that included Danny.

“Mommy, we need to go!” Aneshya sounded frantic, a round of
coughing taking her as well. Luke stopped shoving at me and blanketed his
sister, taking her to the floor.

“Crawl, Aneshya! Mom! Come on! Now!” Luke was only twelve, but
he was protective of both me and his sister. “Grandpa! Make Mom follow
us!” He tried to take charge and I knew he was right. But my long-term
boyfriend and the kids’ father, Danny, had been beside me only a
moment before. I couldn’t just leave him.

Mr. Knoxville suddenly appeared in front of me. He was in his late
seventies, but the man was fit and strong as an ox. And protective as they
came. I thought it might be where Luke learned it from. If Danny had
inherited the trait from his father, he never showed it to me. Or the kids,
really. As evidenced by the fact that it was his father and son trying to
take care of me and Aneshya instead of Danny.

“Don’t worry about him, Evelyn.” Mr. Knoxville looked
hard and almost dangerous. When he looked like this, it made me want to do
anything he said without question. “He’s a grown man.
You’ve got to get the children out. Now!”

“But Danny –”

“Will be fine. Or he won’t. Your first priority — my first
priority — is you and the children.” I’d never heard Mr.
Knoxville speak so harshly to me. He was always the one to help me when
Danny didn’t come home. Or when Danny got mean. The kids were older,
but I didn’t like leaving them alone. Mr. Knoxville was always so
sweet and kind. But then, this situation didn’t call for sweet and
kind. “Now get them and yourself out of here, Evelyn!
Now!”

Luke and Aneshya were crawling on the floor down the hallway of our
apartment building. Mr. Knoxville pushed me to my belly and urged me to
crawl after the kids. The smoke was more tolerable low to the ground but
still surrounding us. I choked with every breath. The fire was mostly behind
us, but it was spreading. I thought I could hear sirens off in the
distance.

“Keep movin’, girl! Don’t stop!”

“Luke!” I called out to my son, the smoke so thick and dark
I’d lost sight of him and Aneshya as I lagged behind.

“We’re at the stairs!” Luke coughed again, his voice
faint in the distance separating us. I could hear Aneshya coughing too. I
hated that they had trouble breathing but was also grateful they were on the
move. “Hurry, Mom!”

“I’m coming, Luke!” I crawled faster. Mr. Knoxville
touched my ankle, urging me forward each time I hesitated. “Keep
going! Get your sister out!”

“You keep goin’ too, girl. We’re gonna get outta
here!” Mr. Knoxville’s voice was tight, and he coughed several
times as he continually shoved me along.

The roar of the flames was growing louder. Heat billowed in a great rush
from the flames I was certain were ready to bear down on us.

I heard the children cry out. Pain? Were they hurt?

“LUKE! ANESHYA!” When I sucked in another breath to scream
again, I breathed in smoke which started a coughing fit. My lungs burned and
spasmed, making it nearly impossible to take in another breath. I tried to
keep moving, but it was all I could do to breathe. Panic tightened around my
neck. With the smoke suffocating me, it really felt as if someone were
actually strangling me.

I stumbled to my feet, needing to get to my kids as fast as I could and
crawling wasn’t getting it done. I called out to them with every
breath I could suck in. Then strong hands grabbed my shoulders. In the
blackness of the smoke all around me, those hands were the first indication
I had there was someone in front of me.

“Get down.” The gruff voice was muffled, and I realized he had
on a mask. Firefighter? Then he shoved me back to the floor and pushed me to
give me direction. “Keep crawling that way. The stairs are a few yards
in front of you.”

“My children! Did you see –”

“They’re on the way out.”

“Mr. Knoxville’s behind me –”

“I’ll get him.”

“Danny –”

“I said go, woman! We’ll be right behind you.” He urged
me onward, and all I could do was crawl in the direction he said. I hoped,
since he’d sent me in that direction, he knew the way was clear. I
trusted that my children were in that direction.

The farther I went, the heavier the smoke. Right up until I descended half
the flight of stairs on my hands and knees. Coughing, I stood and hurried as
fast as I could. With the receding smoke, it was easier to breathe. To
move.

“Mom!”

“Luke?” I sobbed in relief as I recognized my son’s
voice.

“There she is, Luke!” Aneshya sounded strong. Not like
she’d been hurt or couldn’t breathe.

Then I was in the arms of my son, my daughter clinging tightly to me as
they moved me out of the apartment building. I barely made it out into the
grass before I collapsed, my legs finally giving out. I clutched Aneshya to
me as tightly as I could. Luke had his arms around me but was still trying
to get me to move farther away from the building.

“It’s not safe here, Mom. We need to get farther
back.”

“Mr. Knoxville.” Panic filled me. Did the older man get out?
“He was right behind me. Where is he?”

“The fireman said he’d make sure you both got out.”
Aneshya tugged at me, following her brother’s lead as usual.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s go.”

I sucked in breath after breath of clean air. Each breath seemed to bring
on more coughing, but I managed to get it mostly under control. “Where
are the other firemen?” I looked around, not seeing anyone other than
a few bystanders. I could hear sirens off in the distance getting closer,
but no one was here yet.

“Not sure,” Luke said with a frown. “First responder,
maybe? But he said he would get you and Mr. Knoxville out and for us to go
on.”

“We were waiting for you.” Aneshya’s voice broke and
tears made tracks through the streaks of soot on her face. “I thought
you’d gotten lost.”

It was then Mr. Knoxville stumbled through the same exit we’d managed
to escape through. The fireman was right behind him.

“Mr. Knoxville! Oh, my God! Are you all right?” I hurried in
his direction, trying to put the man’s arm around my shoulders so he
could lean on me if necessary. I should have known better. My knees were
weak already. There was no way I could hold the older man’s weight.
Instead, I found him holding me up with an arm around my waist as he urged
us farther away from the building which was more and more engulfed in
flames.

The guy coming up behind Mr. Knoxville was huge. He towered over all of us
and was solidly built. He still had on a full-face mask with SCBA gear but I
could see his face through the clear plate. The man looked familiar, but I
couldn’t quite place him.

“Please! My boyfriend, Danny! He’s still in there
somewhere!”

Instead of going back inside immediately, he turned to Mr. Knoxville.

“Up to you.” Mr. Knoxville had leaned over with his hands
braced on his knees while he coughed, same as the rest of us.
“Fuckin’ prick left his children in a burnin’
fuckin’ buildin’.”

“What?” I gasped in surprise, looking up at Mr. Knoxville. Not
only had I never heard the other man swear like that, but he was accusing
Danny — his own son — of deserting us in a crisis. “No! Danny and I
have had our problems, but he’d never leave his kids. We got
separated. He’s still in there. Probably looking for us! You have to
find him!”

The firefighter took off the mask, and it was like I was looking at a
slightly older, bigger, much scarier version of Danny. I sucked in a
breath…

… then immediately started coughing. Luke was at my side when I
collapsed on the ground on my knees. I fell forward onto my hands in the
grass, coughing uncontrollably.

“We need to get Mom to the hospital.” Luke handed me a bottle
of water. I had no idea where that came from, but I took a gulp before
promptly coughing again. I glanced over at Aneshya. She had a worried
expression on her face but wasn’t coughing anymore. Luke looked like
he wasn’t hurt either, but I had to be sure. Both of them were
streaked with soot.

“Are… you…” I gasped. “Are you…
hurt?”

“No, Mom.” Luke was quick to reassure me.
“Aneshya’s fine too. Drink some more.”

The next thing I knew an oxygen mask was placed over my face and the Danny
look-alike was in front of me, holding my gaze with a steady one of his
own.

“Take deep breaths, honey.” He put what looked like an inhaler
in the hole at the side of the mask and squeezed it. I felt the mist from
the spray enter my lungs as I inhaled. I still coughed, but after a few
seconds, the pressure in my chest relaxed a little. After another lungful of
air and more coughing, he did it again. After that, it wasn’t long
until the pressure in my chest eased almost entirely. I still coughed, but
it felt different. Like the coughing was actually helping to clear my lungs
instead of being a futile effort.

“Mom?” Aneshya looked up at me with worry in her expression.
She’d wiped her face with something, washing some of the soot off, but
smearing it over her face.

“I’m okay, sweetie.”

“Fire and EMS are on the way.” The man kneeling in front of me
moved the mask long enough to urge me to drink some more water before
replacing the mask. “Just take some slow, deep breaths. I gave you an
inhaler. Got something to help with the spasms in your lungs. Might make
your heart race a bit, but nothing too bad.”

“Who are you?”

He glanced over at Mr. Knoxville who was looking at him with a combination
of pride and relief. If there were tears in the gruff old man’s eyes,
I was sure it was from the smoke. “Denver. Boy…”

“It’s Knox.” He stood before his face split into a grin.
“It’s good to see you, Pop.”

 

 

About the Author

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

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

 

Author Contact Links

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

 

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

 

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Permission for Self-Love by Eva Behenská #motherhood #parenting #excerpt #parenting #selfhelp #nonfiction #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

The optimal guide to getting back to your own Queendom after having a child

 

Guidance & self help, child birth, parenting, motherhood, body image, self love, self care

Date Published: May 16, 2024

 

 

Giving birth is a true miracle, our bodies are amazing and nothing compares to holding your baby.

But often once we have given birth, we often forget to prioritize our own well-being. Our bodies went through a tremendous journey and should have time to recover and heal. This book will help you take charge of your own postnatal recovery, to be the best version of yourself so you can look after your baby in the best possible way. From candid prenatal advice, birth advice to postnatal care of your body and mind including healing your vagina to exercising your body, everything is covered.

Having gone through postpartum depression and the lack of available information, Eva has created a tool that can help you navigate this delicate path of becoming a mom, being a partner and above all being you in all your authenticity.

“Let this exercise be your joyful daily practice.”

Eva is the creator of exercise programs tailored specifically for women after giving birth. The goal of her work is to make exercise a joyful daily practice. As a trainer and instructor, she found her passion in healthy movement by encompassing full body acceptance and true expression of
self-love through the connection of body and mind. Eva connects exercise with psychosomatics, which she considers to be the source of all physical ailments. Eva believes in teaching wholehearted acceptance of each woman’s unique body. To listen to our body, is to understand our body.

 

Introduction

Before opening the first chapter, let’s mention a couple of notes
that can help you understand this book’s meaning. It all depends on what
stage of life you are in right now. There are three possibilities. First,
you are pregnant and getting ready for childbirth. Second, you have already
delivered, so your baby is in your arms. Third, you are a man interested in
what is going on within the female body. In that case, you are “Mr.
Awesome.” congratulations to your significant other; she is so
lucky.

In the prenatal stage, you should focus on physical and mental preparation
for birthgiving. Overall, the mind and body condition during pregnancy will
influence childbirth. I recommend having a birth attendant or a doula who
will introduce you to all the aspects of giving birth.

Don’t underestimate the importance of consultation and communication
with somebody experienced.

In the second case, you experienced the best thing: your baby was born. You
can’t influence the delivery of your baby because it already happened,
but you can still focus on your body’s after-birth recovery to ensure
everything goes well.

A couple of words about the author – me:  I am not a physical
therapist or a birth attendant. I am a Pilates Teacher-Trainer and a
Movement Therapist. In practice, I started focusing on pregnant women and
those who just delivered because there wasn’t enough information. I
needed new knowledge when I was pregnant, which was hard to find. I gained
fifty-one pounds and suffered from post-delivery depression, mainly because
my body didn’t work as described in the books I read. I went through
the same amount of uncertainty and worries you probably do now. Everything
can be unpleasantly new, and you don’t recognize your body just
because you moved to another level. You became a mother.

The impulse to write this book is the need for more literature about
post-delivery time. The bookstore shelves are full of books about how to get
pregnant, pregnancy, or delivery, but there is a minimal amount of text on
what to do AFTER giving birth. It feels like when the baby gets out of your
body, everything gets back to normal. The opposite is true. When you
deliver, it’s just the beginning of a giant rollercoaster.

A little disclaimer to this book, I use terms like “vagina, vaginal
entrance, or pelvic floor” wherever necessary.

This text’s advice and observations will help you understand and seize your
body and mind. The body won’t function well if not connected to the
mind. Everything is in your head. Therefore, we will focus on the somatic
method and the actions of the body related to it. Somatics is a practice
that utilizes the body-mind connection to learn how to find and work with
any problem within the body.

All the advice and observations are from my head and practice. Of course, I
was influenced by many books I have read and many bodies I have worked
with.

About the Author

After many years of putting my body through suffering at a dance conservatory and in theatres, I decided to approach my body in a new and different way. My first impulse was practicing Pilates which grew into compensatory methods. I became more and more interested in the mind-body
connection which led me to discover psychosomatics. Since I myself went through a complicated postpartum period where I felt amazed but also betrayed by my own body and my uncooperative mind, I started focusing on working with women in the postpartum period. Out of this experience and the desire to help as many women as possible, this book was born.

The Brotherhood: Vol 1 by Willa Okati #preorder #dark #fantasy #lgbtq #excerpt #rabtbooktours @ChangelingPress @RABTBookTours

Dark Fantasy, Gay, Vampires & Shapeshifters

Date Published: May 3, 2024

 

 

Welcome to Amour Magique, where gay paranormals come to find love…

Amour Magique – the notorious sex club owned by Liam, an incubus. His friends call themselves The Brotherhood. The Brothers have the perennial
problem of gay men everywhere: finding a hottie who doesn’t turn out to be a loser or abuser. They’re down on their luck, and looking for love in all the wrong places.

Bite Me — Tattoos. Piercings. Leather. Attitude. Do anything, say anything, and damn the consequences. That’s Bree of the Brotherhood, and he’s not about to apologize for a thing.

The Dragon’s Tongue — Collin was born with the power to make men burn with lust. He’s been burned himself, though, and now he’s  working himself into an early grave. Might just be worth
the trip if he can get it right this time.

Good Luck Piece — Conned into putting in an appearance at the notorious sex club, Amour Magique, Simon holes up in a shoddy bar aptly called Last Chance. Then an Irish stranger with flashing green eyes and a mouth made for wickedness buys him a drink…

 

 

 

EXCERPT

Silence. Intense silence. Chilly air smelling of pine and citrus rushed
through painfully neat rooms and corridors, whisking over nothing but bare
furniture and knickknacks free of dust. Surfaces sparkled, yet had an
opacity that lacked any élan vital. Solemn strains of a Beethoven
requiem filled the air.

This was a place where happiness went to die.

In one room, though, a spark of life remained. A scented candle, fragrant
with bayberry and red as blood, crackled to life in the semi-darkness. It
passed from hand to hand, lighting taper after taper in a circle, until
twelve flares of light burned brightly in the gloom. Each candle, held
tightly or cautiously in a strong male hand, was lifted high in a circle as
the men holding them glanced at one another, took a simultaneous deep
breath, and chanted:

“Long live the Brotherhood. May our harmony and companionship be a
beacon in the darkness of an unfriendly world. Let the Brotherhood bring
light to the murky corners and sweep away the shadows of
hostility.”

Again, they glanced at each other. Faint smiles lifted the corners of
mouths plump and thin, narrow and wide.

“Here are the bylaws of the Brotherhood, long may they live. Act
smart. Look cool. Share your prick, not your heart. Long live the
Brotherhood!”

Smothered laughter broke out as all twelve men tilted their bayberry
candles toward a vast central pillar and set its many wicks alight.

“So let it be done,” intoned the man in the position of leader.
“So may it be.”

Silence filled the air for a long moment.

Then the doorbell chimed.

“Hot damn — food’s here!” Micah, closest to the door,
jumped up, shoved his candle into a holder, and, with a deft flick of a
switch, turned the chandelier lighting on in the main room. “Who
ordered tonight? David? What did you get — Chinese or Thai?”

“Chinese,” David called as he put his taper into another
holder, as did the other men. “Moo shu pork, egg rolls, wonton soup,
sweet-and-sour chicken, beef with broccoli, sesame beef, General
Tso’s, cashew chicken, lo mein –”

“Holy fuck, David! We’re not an army!”

“– and dessert, too.” He blushed a little. “Well, you
guys always say there’s never enough when someone else orders. I
figured I’d get plenty.”

“Yeah, plenty of food, since that’s all you’re
getting,” retorted Micah.

“Not nice,” Simon, their leader, rebuked, folding his hands.
“And would you open the door before the nice delivery gentleman thinks
we’re either crazy or not at home and goes away?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m on my way.”
Micah smoothed his indigo silk shirt more neatly into his tight-cut jeans,
ruffled a hand through his hair, and swung the door open. A delighted grin
split his face. “Hwong Li! How did they know to send you? Was it just
for me?”

“You are a horn dog,” the young Asian man retorted. His arms
overflowed with boxes. “I drew the short straw.”

“There is nothing short about me.”

“So you say. Ninety-three ninety, please.”

“Ninety-three — David, how much food did you order?” Micah
turned, hands on his hips. “It’s obvious you don’t care,
but some of us are watching our figures.”

David blushed a deep, dusky red. “I just wanted to get enough
–”

“You got enough, all right. Lose about ten, and maybe you’d get
something else, too.”

“Gentlemen!”

“All right, all right.” Micah folded his arms. “I’m
not paying for all this myself, men. Pony up the cash.” All around the
room, men dug into their pockets. David produced a twenty and handed it
over, his cheeks still pink. Micah snatched all the cash, counting it with a
quick hand before passing over a hundred dollars. He riffled the bills in
front of Hwong’s eyes, letting him count the cash, before cracking a
nasty smile and slipping the money into the delivery boy’s front pants
pocket.

His fingers lingered.

“Why, Hwong, do I feel a spring roll in there?”

“Your touch would make bamboo soft.”

“Prick!”

“Yes. But not on the market for one such as yourself.”

“Fuck you.” Micah jerked his hand away as if he’d been
burned. “Keep the change.”

Hwong Li regarded him disdainfully. “Shitty tip.”

“You want a tip? Don’t insult me next time.”

“Aw, come on,” the youngest of their group piped up.
“Hwong’s a hottie. Treat him with the r-e-s-p-e-c-t a sister,
uh, brother deserves.”

Hwong glanced past Micah. “Hello, Christian. Got a kiss for
me?”

“You bet.” Christian dug into the pocket of his hooded
sweatshirt and pulled out a handful of chocolate drops. He unwrapped them.
“Here, catch!”

Hwong did a nifty little seal impersonation and snaffled every treat in his
mouth as they flew through the air.

“Someday, I’ll give you the real thing,” Christian
teased.

“You wish you were so lucky.” Hwong stuffed the boxes of food
into Micah’s arms, leaving him no choice but to grab them or drop
them. “Night, ladies.”

“Asshole!”

“No, that’s your specialty.” Hwong turned and walked
away.

Micah kicked the door shut and moved somewhat awkwardly toward the table in
the center of the circle they’d sat in earlier. “Does someone
want to help me with this? Simon? Laurence? Bree?”

“Nope!”

“You’re on your own.”

“No way.”

“You’ll sure as hell eat it, though.” Micah dumped the
boxes down. “Fine, then. Chow down, but leave me the plain white
rice.” He patted his flat stomach. “I don’t want to get a
pot belly.”

“You’re in about as much danger of getting fat as you are of
getting anything else,” Alex said bluntly as he flopped down in a
chair and reached for a container marked Lemongrass Chicken Special.
“Pot, kettle, black?”

“I don’t see you bragging about your conquests.”
Micah’s voice was prickly.

“Honestly! Hwong wasn’t far wrong in calling you ladies.
Quentin, you and Harrison get the beer and wine. The rest of you,
sit.”

“Aye, aye, Simon!”

Micah sat in the middle of a buttery-soft leather couch and crossed his
legs. “I think you’re all carrying this whole Brotherhood thing
too far… or not far enough. Help each other out, everyone doing their
part… then it all lands on someone like me.”

A slight, lithe, curly-haired man who had not spoken as yet murmured,
“You need each other, Micah. Such is the purpose to this group.”
He toyed with a blue crystal that dangled from a chain around his neck.
“Even you need these others, deny it as you will.”

Micah regarded the man with distaste. “All I need, Liam, is one good
night on the town with a decent fuck who knows how to treat a
man.”

A youngish, multi-pierced man flopped down on the couch beside them.
“You want a man who’ll treat you like a god.”

“So what if I do?” Micah retorted. “You just want anyone
who knows how to make the bedsprings bounce, Bree.”

“Yeah, and?” Bree reached for some extra-spicy General
Tso’s. “At least it’s been less than a year for
me.”

“Not by much.”

“Liar, liar, pants not on fire.”

Simon sighed and rolled his eyes to heaven. “Enough! No one else says
a word until we’ve eaten. I invoke Brotherhood Head
status.”

“Yeah, you wish you could get some head,” Bree muttered.

However, despite his defiance, he fell silent, as did the rest of the men.
Falling into place on chairs, divans, and sofas, they dug into the hot Asian
food. Small moaning noises of pleasure filled the air as rich spices and
tangy flavors crossed eager tongues, and sighs of satisfaction were heard as
one or another discovered a favorite among the boxes and cartons. Even
David, picking at white rice himself, found the courage to reach for a
packet of soy sauce and then, with a shy glance up, took a vegetarian egg
roll.

* * *

As the members of the Brotherhood ate, Liam picked daintily at a dish of
cashew chicken and watched each man closely. He did not require food, not as
such, but took pleasure in eating with his Brotherhood. They found so much
delight in their weekly feasts, bitch though they might about waistlines. He
did wish they would leave David alone, though. He might be the slightest bit
plump, but certainly not fat, as Micah would have him, and his softness only
made him all the more delectable.

Micah, on the other hand, was over-tall and far too whipcord-lean to be to
Liam’s taste. But that is the irony and joy of it, is it not? Liam
thought. For everyone, there is someone to appreciate them. These men have
all been far too long without the reverence due those of their worth.

I will show them the path back to sexual triumph and the satisfaction of
conquest, Lilith willing. But I must tread carefully, and mark out my way
step by step…

He continued to watch. Finishing their entrees, the men reached for one
final, cold box. It would seem David had ordered ices — a specialty of that
particular restaurant — to go with their meal. It catered perhaps too much
to American tastes, rather than the finer hallmarks of true Asian cuisine,
but they made a fortune on their desserts. The ices, served in small cups,
were rich and creamy, drizzled in exotic syrups that not even Micah, after
some wavering, could resist. Renewed moans and murmurs of appreciation were
heard as spoons dipped into the smooth, sweet treats and were savored in
eager mouths. In delectable contrast, several men also reached for hot,
sugary doughnuts, blending the tastes and textures.

Liam took for himself a vanilla-flavored ice covered in rose syrup and
savored it, bit by bit. He laughed a little to himself at the choice of
vanilla for a creature such as he, but it made an excellent base for the
rich rose. Sweet and smooth, with just a tang of honey, it flowed over his
tongue. Truly, there could be nothing finer, except perhaps the come from a
man who lived on fruit alone. In his many years, he had tasted such nectar
on occasion and found it to be the best dessert of all.

Still, the food was not his primary concern. Watching the others took
precedence.

Spiky Bree, all youth and exuberance.

Tall, massively dignified Collin, still immaculate in his business suit
from a hard day’s work, looking a little irritated, as ever, at having
to leave his beloved office for a meeting of the Brotherhood. He only came
because his therapist had ordered him to develop social contacts outside of
work.

Disheveled Quentin, his hair tousled in wild bed-head that he’d
likely not bothered to comb save for with his fingers, sexy in a sort of
devil-may-care way.

Simon, neat and cool as his apartment, but tough as — how did they say? —
nails.

Laurence, vulnerable beneath his shell of bravado.

Micah, truly a bitch among man-bitches, but with a core of softness buried
deep down — very deep down, Liam decided.

Soft David, who would be ever so kissable if he lost his shyness and showed
himself off as the prize he was.

Sober, solemn Allen, and cold but beautiful Alex, uncle and nephew, who
shared a slight hard-jawed, dark-blond resemblance save for Alex’s
thin, wire-framed glasses.

Christian, youngest of all, so very innocent, and Harrison, hard with
cynicism.

The Brotherhood. His Brotherhood, Liam’s chosen group of friends.
Gathered together, standing proud against a heterosexually oriented world,
these “gay” men joined as a unit to celebrate their sexuality
and their bond of kinship. It had taken him a little work to join their
ranks, but, ah, it had been worth it. Most of these men had come together
after Simon, a lawyer, had defended them in court against too-rough or
financially cheating lovers who had done them wrong. Liam had had to come in
by word of mouth and a slight use of the magics he had at hand. After all,
no man dared harm him, unless he asked for it ever so prettily, with a
pouting mouth and eyes that sparkled and dared any man to mark him.

With his Brotherhood, he kept his powers carefully concealed. He came to
them for friendship, not a group of conquests, though at times he toyed with
the idea of seeing Micah begging at his feet, or watching proud Collin
between his legs, sucking him off and swallowing down his come as if it
tasted far better than any butternut ice with maple syrup. And yet again, he
thought of gently undressing David, kissing every soft inch of him, petting
his lovely body until he felt as worshiped as he deserved to be.

But no, no. Satisfying as he sometimes thought sampling the Brotherhood
might be, he needed them far more as friends. Without friends, even an
incubus became… lonely. Sex fulfilled but one need of a man, after
all. Having lived millennia, Liam had become acutely aware of his need for
companionship in addition to sex, although he thrived on a nightly diet of
fucking and being fucked, plunging into another man’s tight channel or
having fingers and cocks deep inside him. He fed his powers, and lived on
from day to day, but he came here with equal passion and interest,
cherishing the time all the more for its difference.

However, as he had spent time with these men, this Brotherhood, he had
noticed that despite their attractiveness, not one of them had enjoyed sex
in quite a long time. Bad luck, or simply a dry spell? Liam didn’t
know. What he did know was that he could do something about it. He had
traded one of Lilith’s Tears, identical to the one he wore around his
neck to mark him as an incubus, for a chance to give these men a night that
would transcend their most exotic and erotic fantasies. All that remained
now would be to convince them. Soon, soon, he would set out to do just
that…

About the Author

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

Will on Facebook

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Will on Goodreads

 

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

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Lord of Storms by Alice Gaines #excerpt #comingsoon #darkfantasy #fantasy #rabtbooktours @changelingpress @RABTBookTours

Dark Fantasy, Capture Fantasy, Action Adventure

Date Published: May 3, 2024

 

 

Advertising executive by day and novelist by night Gray Stewart has retreated to the country for a much-needed vacation.  She’s at the top of a mountain when lightning threatens to fry her to a crisp.  She finds shelter with a mysterious man who goes only by Rowan.

Rowan is the Lord of Storms, a super-human being who has power to minimize the damage of dangerous storms.  He works in secret, and his female visitor is a threat to that secrecy.  She’s also a threat to his equilibrium because as long as she’s around, his thoughts keep straying to sex… and love.

 

EXCERPT

 

Gray Stewart had reached the top of the world. Okay, she was only up about
nine thousand feet, but her heart still raced from the climb, and her lungs
were working overtime to suck in oxygen. She’d made it all the way to
the top of Mount Richardson, the tallest peak in this part of California,
and if she could breathe, the view would steal her breath away. Wait
‘til she told the wiseasses back at the office she’d mastered
the climb. None of the macho types who treated women like weaklings could
have kept up with her.

She broke out her water bottle and took a swig and swung her small backpack
off her shoulder onto the granite beneath her. Then, she sat, crossing her
legs. The beautiful ham and Swiss sandwich the inn’s restaurant had
made for her beckoned. She removed the plastic wrap and took a bite. With
the tomato from the farmer’s market in the inn’s parking lot,
nothing had ever tasted so delicious. In fact, the water tasted pretty
damned amazing, too. Maybe she’d give up coffee.

No reason to get crazy about this, though. Pretty soon she’d be back
in the city where you needed caffeine to face the morning. For now, she
could gaze into the valley far below… at the tall pine trees that now
appeared the size of toys for a model train set and the river shrunk to no
more than a ribbon winding between rows of wine grapes.

A couple of days in the country, and her head was starting to straighten
out. She’d left home for college, and for a little hick girl from a
tiny town, that had been a shock. But then, she’d found the chance job
of a lifetime as a professional writer. So, her art consisted of convincing
people that Gloryshine toothpaste could give them a dazzling smile. Big
deal. She made a good income at that and wrote the great American novel at
night. Her life ought to be perfect. So, why wasn’t it?

She continued eating and feeling sorry for herself until she’d
devoured the sandwich. Then, she pulled her knees up to her chest and rested
her arms on them as she studied the beauty of nature. Unless… wait a
minute… was that a… Lord no, please… a thunderstorm in
the distance? Maybe it was travelling away from her. Lightning flashed, and
she started counting the seconds before the thunder. It took some time and
wasn’t particularly loud. A good sign.

Another flash, and this time the thunder came quicker. And louder. So, the
storm was headed her way, after all. She was sitting at the very top of a
tall mountain with no trees around her — just like a lightning rod waiting
to be hit.

Then, the wind whipped up, and clouds gathered. More lightning, followed by
more thunder, now really loud. She had to get away from here and fast.

She scrambled to her feet and grabbed her pack before heading in any
direction as long as it was down. Even city people knew you didn’t
want to be the tallest thing around when lightning was looking for something
to hit. She was moving too fast for the terrain, which you couldn’t
call a path. Rocks underfoot threatened to trip her, and the gravel was even
more uncertain. The rain started, slapping her in the face, blurring her
vision, but she kept going. That blasted storm was chasing her, and either
she reached safety, or she could get fried.

Her backpack slipped from her hand, taking her phone and the keys to the
rental car with it. She kept going, jumping over obstacles and skidding in
places. The way got steeper, and remaining upright took all her effort, and
all the while, the booming got louder. How much longer before the spears of
lightning would overtake her? In the end, something caught her foot and she
fell.

Attempting to catch herself with outstretched arms only caused her to turn
sideways and roll. Sky, dirt, sky, dirt. So fast she couldn’t tell up
from down. Something sharp bit into her arm as she kept spinning down the
side of the mountain. Lord help her if there was a cliff ahead because
she’d never stop.

But she did stop. Suddenly, something dug into her side — a boot, of all
things. And it belonged to a man. From where she lay, he seemed as tall as a
pine and as fierce as a bird of prey.

“What kind of idiot climbs to the top of this mountain ahead of a
thunderstorm?” he said.

“Who in hell are you?” she said right back.

“Never mind. You’d better come with me.” He bent and
scooped her up as if she weighed nothing at all. That was her last thought
before the world went dark.

 

About the Author

USA Today best-selling author Alice Gaines has published several sensuous and erotic works. She prefers stories that stretch the imagination, highlighting the power of love and sex. Alice has a Ph.D. in psychology from U. C. Berkeley and lives in Oakland, California, where she sings in her
church choir.

Find Alice on Facebook

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800 Sayings by Old Folks Who Raised Us by Wn Rocky Brown, 3rd #teaser #excerpt #nonfiction #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

Nonfiction

Date Published: 07-08-2021

Publisher: Pageturner Press and Media

 

 

The parents and grandparents of William Rocky Brown, 3rd, who raised him, had roots in the southern USA. Along with that Southern upbringing came the
ability to turn everyday activities or things of nature into wise sayings. His mother and grandmother had old down-home sayings that took him a while to understand. After talking to others, he realized he wasn’t alone in this beautiful experience growing up, so he compiled the wise sayings in his book, 800 Sayings by Old Folks Who Raised Us.

The wise sayings—to be passed down from generation to generation—in this book are pearls of wisdom that relate to the past generations, while the present and future generations may take time to understand, just as Brown experienced. It creates good family fun and memories. It can also be used in the form of an intergenerational family game. 

 

P R E F A C E

 

Let me begin by saying that God is the Head of my life, Jesus is my Savior
and the Holy Spirit is my Comforter.

Our parents or grandparents, who had roots in the South, raised many of us.
Now, along with that Southern raising came the ability to take every day
activities or things of nature and turn them into wise sayings. My mother
was from Greenville, North Carolina and my grandmother who raised me was
from Mobile, Alabama. They both had old sayings from ‘Down Home’
that took me a while to really understand what they were saying. After
talking to others, I realized that I wasn’t the only one who had this
wonderful experience growing up, so I decided to compile these 800 sayings.

It is my hope that they will bring you fond memories and laughter and you
will share them with your children and grandchildren.

This book is dedicated to my mother Gwendolyn Regina Carraway Brown and my
grandmothers: Ethel-Mae Knight Brown (Mother-dear), Halease Moore
Wooten-Reid and my great-grandmothers Willie-Mae Knight and Carrie Skipper.
My grand’s are the women on the cover and that’s me at 2 months
old. (By the way, that’s a design on the chair and not a ribbon in my
hair. lol)

Special thanks to my friend Ellen Graham, my Bethany Baptist Church
members, my Facebook friends and the contributions I found that were posted
on the internet by others who also enjoy these sayings.

 

Enjoy my friends!

WRB, 3rd

 

About the Author

The Honorable Reverend Dr. William Lewis Rocky Brown, 3rd, was born and raised in Chester, PA. He has three daughters and three grandchildren. Dr. Brown received his Bachelor’s from Cheyney University, his Master’s from Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary, and a Doctorate
from Jameson Christian College. He studied at the MLK Jr. Center in Atlanta and the University of the Virgin Islands and completed The F.B.I. and D.E.A. Citizens Academies.

Dr. Brown is an ordained 45-year Baptist Minister now serving at the Bethany Baptist Church in Chester, creator and host of Saturday Night Live Prayer & Praise Weekly Service, and a Master Police Chaplain. He’s also the author of “800 Sayings By Old Folks Who Raised Us” and
The 3N1: A Trilogy Of Spiritually Filled Motivational Messages”. He has a weekly column in Scoop USA and a daily Blog on his website: www.yourspiritualmotivation.com. In the 80s and 90s, he traveled around the country, motivating youngsters to stay in school and to say no to drugs and violence, using the art of Rap. Thus, he was affectionately known as the “Rappin Rev.” He is a former elected member of the City Council of Chester. He was also elected twice as Chester City Controller and was elected in 2021 as a Pennsylvania State Constable.

Dr. Brown has been involved in numerous community and civic organizations. He is a Prince Hall 33-degree Mason, Past Master, Grand Chaplain Emeritus, Past Grand Worthy Patron, and an Elks and Omega Psi Phi Fraternity member. He has received over 200 awards and commendations.

 

Contact Links

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Arcane Kiss by Angela Knight #paranormal #womensfiction #rabtbooktours @ChangelingPress @AngelaKnight @RABTBookTours

Alternative Universe, Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Date Published: Apri 12, 2024

 

 

Kurt Briggs has a spirit link to a tiger Familiar that gives him superhuman abilities, but when his father is murdered, the military veteran becomes a target for terrorist sorcerers. Alone, Kurt finds he’s no match for the witch and her shape-shifting polar bear. He turns to Arcanist Genevieve Reyes for help in fighting the killers’ spells.

As Genevieve and Kurt hunt the terrorists, shared danger leads to shared desire. But they soon realize Kurt’s passion for Gen weakens his control over his cat. The consequences could be deadly for them both. Genevieve is attracted to Kurt’s animal sensuality, but she knows she may be in as much danger from his tiger as she is from the terrorists.

Even if Kurt and Gen manage to stop the terrorists, their evil sorcery may trigger a witch hunt that could mean the destruction of everyone with magical Talent — including Kurt and Genevieve.

 

EXCERPT

The tiger bounded toward him in a blur of striped fur and powerful muscle.
Kurt Briggs braced himself as the big cat reared to thump huge paws down on
his shoulders. Somehow he managed not to fall on his ass, though eight feet
of cat made an awkward dance partner. Rumbling, the beast touched a cool,
damp nose to Kurt’s.

“Hi to you, too, Stoli.” Kurt dug his fingers in thick reddish
gold fur to give his Familiar a scratch.

Golden eyes narrowed in feline ecstasy and Stoli chuffed a greeting. The
tiger dropped to all fours again, and turned toward the lake with a flick of
his striped tail. Kurt strolled after him across the thick grass.

Through the trees ahead Kurt spotted the flickering glint of afternoon
sunlight on water — the spring-fed lake that lay at the heart of Briggs
Feral Sanctuary. Another tiger lounged in the shallows, six hundred pounds
of stripes, attitude and luminous golden eyes.

Dave gave them a lazy blink, indolent as a pasha. And like a pasha, he
apparently had a harem — or at least a gang of devoted fans. Ten female
volunteers clustered just outside the enclosure fence as close as they dared
get. Dressed in shorts, hats and T-shirts with the BFS lion logo, they all
wore grins of anticipation as they waited for him to do something amazing.
Or, knowing Dave, inappropriate.

Stoli catapulted off the bank, sailed through the air, and landed on the
other cat with a huge splash. The volunteers fled the arcing water, yelping
and laughing.

Dave roared, batting at Stoli’s nose with sheathed claws. “Back
off, Tigger! Do I look like fuckin’ Pooh Bear to you?”

Stoli raced off, chuffing like a giggling ten-year-old who’d pranked
his brother. Which was exactly what he was. The two cats had been
littermates before they’d melded with their human partners. Otherwise
they couldn’t have shared an enclosure. Their fights would have been
real.

“You’d better run, asshole! I’ll turn you into a
rug!” Dave flopped back down in the water with a huff of feline
disdain. “The crap I put up with.”

Kurt’s grin faded. Dave did indeed put up with a hell of a lot. A
year ago he’d been Dave Frost, a member of Kurt’s Arcane Corps
unit — a tall, lanky blond with a wicked sense of humor. But that was
before Dave had died, leaving his soul trapped in the body of Smilodon, his
Familiar.

Another man might have surrendered to bitterness and grief for his lost
humanity. Dave taught himself to talk by making the air vibrate with magic
instead of human vocal cords. Now he was building a thriving career as a
YouTube smartass.

“You got me all wet,” a blonde volunteer complained, pretending
to pout as she pulled at her soaked shirt.

The tiger gave her a toothy grin. “My pleasure.”

“Ladies, quit flirting with the wildlife and finish cleaning the
enclosures.” Kurt put a little subsonic rumble in his voice. Dave
wasn’t the only one who could manipulate sound with his magic.
“We don’t want BFS to smell like the world’s biggest
litter box.”

“Killjoy,” Dave complained.

“You heard the man.” Karla Morgen, the volunteer coordinator,
made a shooing gesture at the women. “The poop won’t scoop
itself.”

“You know,” Kurt told Dave as the volunteers scattered,
“you couldn’t be any more a ham if you were Porky
Pig.”

“How else would I bring home the bacon?” Dave flicked a paw,
and an invisible snare drum banged out a rimshot.

Kurt laughed. “You’re getting scary with the magical sound
effects.”

“I live to terrify. Speaking of performances, how many tickets did we
sell last night? Looked like every inch of the arena bleachers had
somebody’s butt on it.”

“Pretty much.” BFS’s Feral 101 show was designed to
educate sanctuary visitors about big cats. They’d livened it up with a
demonstration of Feral abilities, but the material had still been as dry as
sawdust — until Dave had taken the emcee job in his capable paws. “We
brought in five thousand in ticket sales and donations, plus another
thousand for selfies and souvenirs.”

And they needed every dime. Keeping fifty-nine exotic cats fed and healthy
wasn’t something you did on a shoestring.

Dave gave him a smug smile. “I has skillz. I also has half a million
followers.”

“You’re just lucky they don’t know what an asshole you
are.”

“I’m a tiger. We’re supposed to be assholes.”

Movement across the lake drew Kurt’s attention. In the next
enclosure, a lion came to the water’s edge, accompanied by his two
lionesses. Staring at the tigers, the Familiar roared.

 

 

About the Author

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

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

 

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@changelingpress

 

Purchase Today

 

 

Axel by Jamie Targaet #excerpt #comingsoon #motorcycleclubromance #romance #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @ChangelingPress

Hounds of Hell MC, Book 3

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense

Date Published: April 19, 2024

 

 

Sadie — I finally found the courage to escape my abusive boyfriend, but I didn’t make it far. I’m holed up in a small Virginia town called Mercy. There will be no mercy for me if my ex finds me. Thanks to Axel, the gorgeous biker who towed my car to his garage, I have a place to stay and a job at the town’s greenhouse. I also have the hope that I might have a second chance at love one day, with Axel.

Axel — When I got called to tow a broken-down car to my garage, I found the beaten and battered angel who owns it on the run from the devil. Here in Mercy, with me, she’s healing and learning to live again. When her ex figures out Sadie’s here, even his mafia ties can’t protect him
from me. His entire mafia family can’t take back what’s mine and there’s going to be hell to pay when they try.

EXCERPT

Axel

 

It was a cold February morning. Alexander Harper had just sat down with his
first cup of coffee when his phone hummed in his pocket. When he pulled it
out and looked at the screen, he saw the call was from Cowboy Pete’s,
a local gas station just off the interstate.

“This is Axel,” he said, using the road name he’d been
given by Razor when he’d been a prospect.

“Hey, hon. How are you?” He recognized Elsie Damron’s
voice. She’d worked at the gas station since he was a kid.

“Cold,” he said. “What can I do for you
today?”

“A young lady stopped for gas a little while ago,” Elsie
explained. “She filled it up but now her car won’t
start.”

“You give her bad gas?” Axel asked, grinning.

“No,” Elsie said. “Well, I hope not. There’s smoke
rolling out from under the hood. Looks like it’s overheating to me.
Can you come take a look at it?”

“Yeah.” Axel knew the quiet morning was too good to be true.
Putting the call on speaker, he placed his phone on his desk, grabbing a tie
from his desk drawer to pull his hair back from his face. “Did you
already call Tyler? I appreciate the business, but it would be a lot closer,
and cheaper, to tow it to his place.”

“Yeah, I know,” Elsie said, her voice dropping to a loud stage
whisper. “But I think you would be better for this particular
situation.”

“Okay, I’ll head that way,” he told her.
“What’s she driving?”

“He’s going to come get you,” Elsie said to someone there
with her. To Axel, she said, “Yeah, it’s an older sedan. A
Lincoln, I think. What model year is your car?”

Axel couldn’t make out what the other person said.

“It’s a 2002 model,” Elsie told him.

“Give me thirty minutes,” Axel said, ending the call.

Taking his coffee with him, Axel headed back into the shop. His twin
brother Ryder was working on an SUV brought in yesterday. Ryder looked up
when he saw Axel approach.

“Where you off to?” Ryder asked.

“Got to tow someone in,” Axel told him. “I’ll be
back.”

When Axel reached Cowboy Pete’s with the tow truck, there were
several cars there. They had a halfway decent grill inside the station, and
it was a popular breakfast stop for town regulars and travelers alike. He
pulled into the lot and parked, heading in to have Elsie point out the lady
and her car.

Elsie grinned when she saw him at the counter. “Thanks for coming,
hon. She’s a couple of spaces down from where you parked. The black
Lincoln.”

“You bet,” he told her, seeing it in the window behind the
counter where the older lady stood.

“Axel?” Elsie called as he headed for the door.

“Yeah?”

“If I can do anything for her, you let me know, okay?” And the
kind older woman meant it.

“Will do,” he told her, curious now about what he was walking
into.

Axel returned to the tow truck, spotting the black Lincoln that was just
three spaces to the right of him with no cars parked in between. It looked
like someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. Walking up to the car,
Axel tapped on the driver’s window. The lady jumped in the seat,
startled. Axel saw a flash of red curls before she peered up at him through
the window.

Now Elsie’s words made sense. The young woman’s left eye was
black and almost swollen shut. Her nose was swollen and bruised, her lip
split. Someone had beat the fuck out of this little lady. Slowly, she opened
the door and got out of her car. Her careful movements told him her face
wasn’t the only thing that hurt her this morning. Axel stepped back to
give her room as she closed the door and leaned back against it.

The way she wrapped her arms protectively around herself and the fear in
her green-eyed gaze had him pausing. Now he knew why Elsie called their
garage. Tyler wasn’t a bad guy, but he was gruff and lacking in most
social niceties.

This young woman before him looked like she’d been through hell and
was expecting more.

“Hi there,” Axel said. “Elsie called me to come look at
your car. What’s going on?”

“It overheated I think,” she said quietly. “I was okay
for a couple of hours. But then it would heat up and it would start smoking.
I would stop and let it cool off. I stopped here to get gas and let it cool
off again. When I tried to restart it this time, it
wouldn’t.”

“Would you pop the hood for me?” Axel asked.

She scrambled back into the driver’s seat, searching for the lever to
do that. Just when he was about to offer to do it for her, she found
it.

Axel lifted the hood and removed the radiator cap. Walking back around to
where she sat behind the wheel with the driver-side door open, he said,
“Try starting it.”

It did start but looking into the radiator, he saw the coolant start to
bubble up like a milkshake. Walking back toward her, he saw white smoke
coming out of the tailpipe in the rear. Well, that wasn’t good
news.

“Turn it off,” he told her.

She did as he said, climbing back out of the car.

“Yeah, that’s a blown head gasket,” Axel explained.
“The smoke coming out of the back is coolant getting into your exhaust
system. It’s not supposed to do that.”

“Can you fix it?” she asked. “H-how long will it
take?”

“I can fix it,” he said. “How long it will take depends
on a couple of things. I need to find a replacement for the head gasket and
if there’s any damage to the engine, we might need parts for that too.
Once we have the parts we need, I can have it fixed in two or three
days.”

Axel could tell that wasn’t the answer she was hoping to get. It was
probably a good idea to get all the bad news out at once.

“It’s also going to be expensive,” Axel told her.
“You’re probably looking at two to three thousand dollars to fix
it.”

Those big green eyes were getting shiny with tears and Axel felt a tiny bit
of panic creeping in. He was no damn good with tears. Never had been. He had
to find some way to make the situation the little lady was in less
terrible.

“Where are you headed?” he asked. “Do you have any
friends or family we can call that will come help you out?”

Dropping her gaze, she shook her head.

“Where are you heading?” Axel tried again.

She shrugged for an answer.

“Do you know if your insurance covers towing?” he asked. If
nothing else, it looked like he was going to be towing her back to his
garage.

She shook her head. Pretty red curls swung with her movements.

“Do you have your insurance information in the car? We could
call,” he offered.

“I don’t have it,” she told him.

Didn’t have a destination. Didn’t have insurance information?
What the hell was the situation here? When he gave her the cost of towing
the car, she reached into the pocket of her coat, pulled out a credit card,
and handed it to him. It was brand-new and shiny. Axel doubted it had ever
been used.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to run this, and
we’ll be on our way.”

She scrambled back into her car like a scared mouse. Axel shook his head as
he headed back to his tow truck, reaching in to get the card reader they
used for payments. The name on the card was Sadie Downing.

What the hell happened to Sadie?

He ran the card. The transaction went through which surprised him. He
walked back to her car, tapping on the window to return her card. Again, she
scrambled out of her car, looking around nervously.

Axel just had to ask. “Are you okay? The local hospital is on the way
back to the garage.”

“I’m fine,” she said a little too quickly.

“Okay.” He would leave it at that. “Why don’t you
go ahead and climb in the tow truck? I’ll get your car hooked up and
we’ll get going.”

“Thank you,” she said quickly before making a beeline for the
truck, hastily climbing into the cab.

It didn’t take Axel long to hook up her car and get them on the road.
Sadie, if that was her name, huddled quietly in the far corner of the cabin
with her head leaning on the window. While he normally appreciated the
silence, just now it was awkward. He really wanted to ask her what happened.
Who did that to her face?

One thing was pretty certain. She was on the run, and she was afraid.
Looking at her, he understood why.

 

About the Author

Jamie Targaet is the author of the Hounds of Hell MC. She’s anxious to introduce you to this club of gorgeous, dominant men and the lucky women who surrender to them. The ride is going to get wild at times, not going to lie. But there’s thrilling action, scorching hot sex scenes, and all the feels. 

Jamie writes erotic romance for Changeling Press, a little fanfiction on the side, and she’s an aspiring horror writer in another life. She enjoys time with her family (including the fur babies). She likes good horror movies and shows, emo metal and classic rock, and time spent in other worlds writing and reading. She loves hearing from readers and is looking forward to hearing from you.

 

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@changelingpress

 

 

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Bullet by Marteeka Karland #excerpt #comingsoon #motorcycleclubromance #romance #rabtbooktours @changelingpress @RABTBookTours

(Grim Road MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: April 12, 2024

 

 

Cecilia: The enigmatic biker is the one bright spot in my life. I see him three or four times a week at the cafe down the block. Talking to him about books we’re reading or our hopes and dreams helps me escape my reality, if only for a short time. Most of the time we don’t even sit at the same table. He’s everything I ever wanted but know I can never have. We simply cross paths. Him going… wherever he goes. Me… I know I’m going straight to hell. Nothing but a miracle can save me.
The Devil owns my soul.

Bullet: There’s something about the small, dark-haired woman I see at the corner cafe. She’s everything I’m attracted to in a woman, but she’s so young it’s laughable. I didn’t set out to
seduce her, but the next thing I know she’s in my bed and I spend the most incredible night with her. I wake up the next morning to a cool pillow. No note. No way to contact her. I chalk it up to a young woman not wanting drama in her life until I see her again a few days later. This time,
she’s in my ICU, beaten to within an inch of her life. Someone’s going to pay. God have mercy on their soul. Because I won’t.

 

WARNING: Bullet includes scenes of graphic violence and adult situations that may be triggers for some readers. There’s also a protective hero, a determined heroine, and an eventual happy ending. No cheating, as
always.

EXCERPT

Bullet

“Just another glorious day in the ICU, Attie.” The fresh-faced
resident was trying way too hard to socialize. I’d noticed the pup did
the same with all the attendings. I accepted he was trying to fit in and
carve his place with people who would be his peers once he’d finished
his residency, but no one — fucking no one — called me
“Attie.”

“My name,” I said, not looking up from the laptop where I was
finishing up a physical assessment for the patient I’d just seen,
“is Atticus. Or Dr. Benedict. Call me Attie again, I’ll
personally see to it you fail this rotation.” If the kid had been a
prospect, I’d have beat the shit outta him. But I couldn’t do
that. Not in this world. Which was a Goddamned shame because if an adult
hadn’t learned how to treat people with respect by this guy’s
age, he needed an ass whoopin’.

I was beginning to think it was past time I left practice in the civilian
world and stayed at the Grim Road compound full time. Traveling back and
forth was risky anyway. The last thing I wanted was someone following me to
the compound. They wouldn’t be able to get in, but it would draw
attention to us, which I did not want. Still. Here I was. Trying not to
punch an intern.

Fuck. Me.

I didn’t give the kid time to respond. Instead, I shut the laptop,
picked it up, and headed back down the hall to the lounge. I wanted to
finish my day so I could get a bite to eat — and maybe some stimulating
conversation that didn’t involve body fluids or death. I’d had
enough of that in the Air Force, yet here I was. I’d thought I’d
fulfill some sense of purpose by continuing to work with critically ill
patients in a different setting, but death was death.

“He’s just trying to fit in, Atticus.” One of my
colleagues, Phil Davis, clapped me on the shoulder as he pulled up a chair.
“Don’t be so hard on the kid.”

“I’ve told him repeatedly not to shorten my name. I’m
tired of fuckin’ with him.”

“He’ll make a decent doctor if you help train him
right.”

“I’m not a mentor, Phil. I told you that when you hired me.
I’m supposed to be an intensivist. Not a teacher.” It was a sore
spot. The hospital had promised me I wouldn’t have to supervise
interns or residents. Yet here I was.

“You know how it is, man. There’s a shortage of healthcare
staff. That includes doctors. Why keep these kinds of hours when you can do
family medicine?” He shrugged. “The hospital owns the offices,
so they all get paid a salary just like we do. Only difference is the hours.
They get nights, weekends, and holidays off. We don’t.”

“Coulda had better pay and better benefits if I’d stayed in the
fuckin’ Air Force,” I grumbled. “Kid’s got this last
chance. He calls me Attie again, I’ll do more than fail his rotation.
I’ll kick his fuckin’ ass.”

Phil chuckled, likely thinking I was joking. I wasn’t. “Just
give me the report so you can get your cranky ass outta here. Someone needs
a beer. And possibly to get laid.”

I scowled at him, but he was right. On both counts.

Report took an hour. We walked around to each of my ten patients’
rooms, and I gave him a rundown of what was happening as well as introduced
him to each of those patients. Not every doctor in the hospital wanted to do
hand-off rounds like this, but I thought it helped all of us to see the
patients as people instead of simply numbers on a screen. As such, I
insisted on it.

We only got caught up in one room and honestly, Mrs. Singleton loved to
talk.

“I thought I was taking the right dose, Dr. Benedict. I mean, I might
have missed my shot from time to time, but I usually manage better than
this.” She smiled up at me from her bed. She was always pleasant. And
always called me Dr. Benedict. “Maybe if you explain it to me
again?” She looked like she was hoping we’d sit down and go over
her medication with her again, but didn’t want to actually say
so.

“Maybe we should get you an insulin pump,” Phil said, not
looking up from his tablet as he pretended to review her chart. I knew he
was just giving himself an excuse not to engage. Mrs. Singleton had been
offered the same thing every single time she was admitted. She always
refused. Something Phil knew all too well.

“Oh, I couldn’t. It might give me too much. What would I do
then?”

“It won’t give you too much, Nanny.” Phil’s
irritation showed on his face and in his voice, but he never looked up from
his fucking tablet. “It’s programmed to give the exact amount we
order. You need to agree to this so you don’t have to be admitted so
much. You’re going to ruin your kidneys and your eyesight, among other
things.”

“I’m ninety-two, Dr. Davis. If my kidneys and my eyesight were
going to go, they’d have done so already. Besides, I know I’m
not long for this world.” She sounded like she was going to cry. It
made me want to beat the shit outta my colleague.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,”
I said, sitting beside the bed and taking Mrs. Singleton’s hand. One
thing I tried to always do was be respectful to my patients. Just because
she was old didn’t mean she was stupid. “We’ve discussed
this before. If you want to keep taking shots instead of using an insulin
pump, you can. But, he’s right that you’re hurting your body.
I’d like to have long conversations with you for years to come.”
I gave her a gentle smile.

She patted my hand with her free one. “You’re a good man, Dr.
Benedict.” Then she sighed, looking resigned. “If you think
it’s best, I’ll agree to your pump. Do you promise it will be
OK?”

“I do, ma’am. I’ll even come check on you after
you’re released until you get used to it.”

Her eyes grew wide. “You’d do that? For me?”

I smiled. “You’re one of my favorite patients, Mrs. Singleton.
Of course, I will.”

Mrs. Singleton was a diabetic who went into ketoacidosis once every couple
of months because she didn’t take her insulin correctly and refused to
modify her diet. At ninety-two years young, I figured if she wanted to eat
cupcakes and moon pies, that was her prerogative. My job wasn’t to
judge but to help her when she got sick. I’d often wondered if she
didn’t do this to herself on purpose to get some attention because her
daughter and grandson refused to put her in a nursing home but were never
around to take care of her. She’d been a social butterfly in her
younger years, by all accounts, and needed personal interaction. But, she
abided by her family’s wishes and stayed at home even if her daughter
and grandson were never there to help her.

After we left and started down the hall, Phil chuckled, as if he
hadn’t insulted and treated the elderly woman horribly. “I
swear, that woman gets chattier every time we have her.” He shook his
head. “I don’t have time to spend thirty minutes in her room
chatting about the weather or the good old days. Not to mention arguing with
her about her treatment.” Yeah. It was past time I either opened my
own practice or simply moved back to the clubhouse and disappeared from
polite society.

I gave Phil a hard look. “You know, if you had half as much sympathy
for Mrs. Singleton as you do that disrespectful punk of an intern, you might
be a decent doctor.”

I left Phil alone with Intern Iggy and the rest of the zoo and headed out.
I needed the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. Fuck this shit.
I’d keep my promise to Mrs. Singleton no matter what, but my days here
were numbered.

Coming back in to the doctor’s lounge, I went to the locker room and
changed out of my scrubs and lab coat. I left very little at the hospital
other than a couple changes of clothes for emergencies, so packing my stuff
wouldn’t be an issue. Tomorrow I’d bring my truck and clean out
my shit. Tonight, however, I was on my bike. I wasn’t prepared.

I strode out of the hospital, my boots thudding on the pavement as I made
my way toward my sleek black Harley V-Rod. The bike that would carry me away
from the sterile walls and white coats. I needed the freedom of the road and
the comfort of my club. Grim Road MC had been good to me. After my last
mission it had become my only real haven. Initially, working at the hospital
had fulfilled my need to help people, but it had become more cumbersome than
helpful now.

Flashes of the carnage I’d lived through shot through my brain and I
gritted my teeth through the pain, needing to keep myself under control. It
was those memories that haunted me at night and kept me coming back to the
hospital to work. I hadn’t been able to help the people from that day
so long ago, but I could help people in the here and now.

I started up my bike, put it in gear, and took off. I needed food and rest.
Tomorrow everything would be better. I’d get Mrs. Singleton to stick
to her promise to try the insulin pump. God knew Phil would just fuck things
up. Besides, I wanted to help her get home so I’d know where to come
to check on her and make sure she was using her pump correctly. I also
needed to put the fear of God into her daughter and grandson. I was pretty
sure they were trying to keep her out of a nursing home so they could keep
her Social Security check and that simply wasn’t going to
happen.

With a sigh, I pulled into the parking area of a little outside café
I often frequented after work. Helped me to wind down and catch my breath.
Occasionally I’d run into someone who knew me, but the hospital was in
Palm Beach so it wasn’t often. It was also the place where I’d
met the most interesting woman I’d ever encountered.

Her name was Cecilia, but she went by CeCe. I thought she was an escort,
but the jury was still out. She was here nearly every evening. I found I
simply liked talking to her. She was intelligent, with a quirky personality.
She could carry on a conversation about almost anything with some degree of
knowledge. But it was her eyes that intrigued me. She had the look of
someone who’d seen far more than a person of her years should have. I
doubt she was much out of her teens, but she seemed to take in everything
around her. Several times I’d tested her. Dropping observations about
things around us or small details about someone walking down the sidewalk.
She always knew the answers. Like me, she always chose a table that let her
have the best view of the area with her back against the building.

Walking to my usual table, I glanced around, looking for CeCe. Because of
the long conversation with Mrs. Singleton, I was a little late so I could
have missed her. I hoped not because I could really use her refreshing
personality. The girl really was a rare treasure. I thought about prying
into her life, finding out exactly what she did and who she worked for,
seeing if my suspicions were correct, but we had a comfortable relationship.
Basically, we spoke when we were at this café, and that was it. I
didn’t see her anywhere else. We didn’t talk about anything
personal. Sometimes we never even looked at each other. Just… talked.
About everything and nothing. Nonsense. Whatever was on our minds. I was
about to leave when I saw her.

CeCe was dressed in a tight, short red skirt with a white billowy top that
cinched around her middle above her waist. A black bustier pushed her
breasts up and together, giving her mouth-watering cleavage. Her hair was a
straight, gleaming mass dark as a raven’s wing reaching below her
waist. This was her usual attire and I’d learned a couple of months
ago to live with the hard-on I got seeing her in these outfits.

She sat along the brick wall of the building beside the café, as
usual, one table between us. We didn’t acknowledge each other or
speak. She simply caught the attention of Teddy. He owned the place and was
always there, even if he had someone else working.

“The usual, Teddy.”

“Chocolate pie and a coffee coming up, darlin’.”

“Thanks.” Everything inside me settled. I hid my smile and said
nothing. Instead, I picked up a book I’d been reading the last several
days while I drank a cup of coffee and ate a sandwich. This evening it was
chicken salad.

“You still reading about the guy who kills that old lady and then
spends the whole book freaking out about it? Raskolnikov,
right?”

I grinned. “Crime and Punishment. Yeah, kid.” I didn’t
look up from my book, but I never did. It was a game we played, where we
pretended indifference. It was one we were both comfortable with. “I
always found him to be an interesting character — tormented by his own
guilt. Unable to escape the consequences of his actions.”

She snorted. “It’s always something, I guess. Life torments us
all in one way or another.”

I thought about that. “Can’t say you’re wrong
there.”

“‘Course, I’m not wrong.” She sounded bitter. Not
for the first time, I wondered if I was right and she was an escort. She was
always very well put together. Even the revealing clothing she wore was done
with taste. Her hair was always perfect, her makeup just so. Her body was
well toned, fine muscle playing beneath her skin when she moved. I’d
never seen such perfectly formed arms on a woman before. They were muscled
but sleek. Feminine.

With one last bite of pie, she slapped a couple bills down on the table and
stood. She started to leave, then stopped and turned her head to face me.
“You think Raskolnikov would’ve done any better if he’d
had someone? You know, someone who had his back?”

“Who knows?” I shrugged. A darkness crept into her gaze even
though her face was carefully blank. This, I didn’t like. “But I
do believe there are times when the ends do justify the means. Maybe not in
Raskolnikov’s case, but…”

“Yeah.” She looked away, putting her shoulders back.
“Sure.”

“See you tomorrow?” I’d never pushed her before. Never
asked when I’d see her or if she’d be back. But my instinct was
screaming at me that something was wrong.

She shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

“Take it easy, CeCe.” I forced myself to let it go even though
I wanted to push even harder, to make her tell me what was going on and how
I could help. Because if ever there was a woman who needed help, it was
CeCe.

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.

 

Contact Links

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

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

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