Neanderball by Sofia Diana Gabel #promo #teasertuesday #excerpt #comingsoon #thriller #rabtbooktours @sofiadianagabel @RABTBookTours

Thriller

Date Published: 01-15-2024

 

 

Geneticist Lucien Roux’s cutting-edge experiment to clone Neanderthals blurs lines between ambition and ethics after the clones are stolen and forced to play a brutal and violent game dubbed Neanderball. Haunted by the realization that his hubris overpowered his morality, Lucien knows he must fix what he’s done.

Racing against time as a military faction and a sinister adversary close in, he has one chance to expose the real reason his research was taken. With his ex-Marine girlfriend, he sets out on a dangerous journey to save the Neanderthals before it’s too late. It’s an all or nothing fight for
redemption, leading to a showdown for his survival, and freedom for the Neanderthals.

 

EXCERPT

Lucien stood outside his lab door, hoping his Neanderthal clones had
survived to reach the five-day blastocyst mark. What made his cell phone
alarm go off? He placed his chin on the plastic extension to the right and
pressed the red button. With his retina scanned, a chime sounded. He
straightened. Next came fingerprint verification. He placed his thumb on a
small pad next to the retinal scanner and waited for the second chime. Last
came the voice verification.

He stepped back and spoke, “Bonjour, je m’appelle Lucien
Roux.”

A split-second pause. “Bonjour, Doctor Roux.”

Third and final chime. The door slid left into the pocket slot and closed
after he entered the lab. For a moment, he stood and enjoyed the cool,
unobtrusive, sterile comfort of the place where he’d spent most of his
time over the past three years. His second home. Come to think of it, it was
more accurate to call it his first home.

“Lights.”

The fluorescent lights flickered on and illuminated the countertops crammed
with glassware, notepads, microscopes, and computers. He dodged around the
benches and stools to the incubator room at the far end of the lab.

He pressed a button beside the door. “Release incubator
lock.”

As he wrapped his hand around the incubator’s door handle, his foot
tapped. “Come on, come on.”

To anyone else, it would look like a commercial refrigerator door, but
looks were deceiving. He kept his incubator out of view in a separate room
where only his voice would unlock it, tucked away from the potential prying
eyes of the techs and cleaning crew.

The lock clicked open.

What had happened? Nutrients he’d deal with, but if he’d
miscalculated the growth enhancers, it meant he’d lose the entire
batch of Neanderthal specimens. If they lived, all sixteen would have
developed further than any of the other clones that failed to thrive.

He swung the stainless door wide and hurried in. The interior lights
flooded the cool, small space. There they were, his sixteen specimens,
mounted vertically in silver-sided test tubes holding the growth medium,
four high with four side-by-side, all males to reduce the variables that
might come with both sexes. He peered closely through the small magnifying
window in the first growth tube and then the next and the next.

 

I’m a multi-genre author and have been writing for as long as I can remember, and try to attend as many writing workshops and conferences as possible.

I was born in Sydney, Australia, but have lived in the United States for most of my life. I have two undergraduate degrees in archaeology and environmental resource management (wildlife biology) and a master’s degree
in public archaeology, as well as a host of courses in writing, editing, and even criminal justice. We can never learn too much, right?

In addition to writing, I absolutely adore traveling. I’m definitely a wanderer at heart and find it hard to settle in one place for long. And why should I? There are so many places to explore!

 

Contact Links

Website

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Twitter: @sofiadianagabel

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Smashwords

 

Snow by Jamie Targaet #promo #excerpt #comingsoon #teasertuesday #motorcycleclubromance #romance #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @ChangelingPress

(Hounds of Hell MC 2): A Hounds of Hell MC Romance

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: 12/15/2023

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

 

 

Emily — Most wonderful time of the year? Yeah, right. Business isn’t
booming at my bakery this Christmas and I’m behind on my business loan. And
if that weren’t enough, my SUV’s transmission is dying, my ex is in town for
the holidays, and our regular Santa broke his leg and can’t make it for the
annual children’s Christmas party. Somehow, we’ve ended up with a biker
playing Santa Claus this year and I think he’s the wrong man for the job.
Santa shouldn’t have all those muscles and tattoos. And I shouldn’t be
daydreaming about sitting in Santa’s lap.

Snow — I’m not a man with a sweet tooth — at least I wasn’t until now. If
I’d known about the gorgeous little baker, I’d have snatched her up years
ago. The little lady has a lot of problems this holiday season. For her,
I’ll play Santa Claus for the kids, and her ex will wish he got a lump of
coal in his stocking when I’m done with him. Emily will have a good
Christmas. I guaran-damn-tee it.

 

EXCERPT

 

Emily

“Wait. What?” Emily Frost couldn’t have heard that right. The annual Christmas event they held in Mercy each year for the town’s children was two weeks away. “What do you mean Andy isn’t going to be able to play Santa Claus this year?”

While she listened to the elderly man’s wife explain why he wouldn’t be able to be Santa this year, Emily was fighting off hysteria. She understood that he’d taken a nasty fall and told his wife she was very sorry he’d broken his leg. Automatically, she asked if there was anything she could do. She did care. But she really wasn’t listening for a response.

What was she going to do?

Emily carried on the rest of the conversation as best she could, taking a deep breath when she ended the call.

“Fuck!” Her yell echoed through the quiet bakery.

Could things get any worse? She was blinking back tears as she finished counting the register and got all the goodies that hadn’t sold today boxed up. And there was a lot that hadn’t sold today.

The planning committee for the Christmas event was meeting tomorrow. Each member of that committee had jobs to do to make the event happen each year. Liza Austin and her husband owned a greenhouse in town. Each year they provided a beautiful wreath for the door. A live potted Christmas tree for the event was displayed in her bakery shop’s window throughout the holidays. Liza had a key to the shop to take care of the tree so it could be replanted later.

Myra Michaels handled the guest list, answering questions from parents and guardians about the event. She also handled donations that came in. Mina Dock had passed away this summer, but her granddaughter had moved back to town and was taking her place on the committee. Jade Dock and Emery Phillips oversaw setup, using folding chairs and tables Emery used at his bar, Sackett’s, for special events. They got out the decorations they used each year. Most had been donated by Jade’s grandmother Mina.

Emily had been a part of the committee since its first year, five years ago. Her job was supplying all the baked goods for the event and, with help, filling stockings with candy and treats for the kids to take home.

And she’d been the one who found their Santa Claus, Andy Wilder. Each year the elderly gentleman arrived as Santa and was just the best part of the entire event in her opinion. His warmth and sincerity made him a perfect choice. Plus, he could handle anything from kids scared of Santa, to those who were acting up and rowdy.

But he wasn’t coming this year. That was just the latest calamity this week and it was just Thursday night.

Where were they going to get another Santa Claus with two weeks to go?

Locking the door on her way out, she carried the box of goodies out to her SUV and got in. Emily crossed her fingers that the damn thing would start because it hadn’t been running right for the last several weeks. She knew her transmission was failing. What she didn’t know, since things had been so slow at the shop, was where she was getting the money to fix it.

In five minutes, she reached Mercy’s homeless shelter, delivering what she didn’t sell as she did every day the bakery was open. Heading for the back door, Emily rounded the corner and almost collided with someone.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered glancing up into gray eyes.

There were two men, both tall and wearing leather vests with their biker gang name on them, carrying a bed frame into the shelter. The one closest to the door was blond and nice-looking. The one she almost ran into? He was just as tall and muscular with a dark beard and mustache and almost entirely white locks of hair were in disarray on his head. She did a double take because hair that color didn’t usually go with a younger face. His eyes were pale gray and stunning.

The Hounds of Hell had long been a part of Mercy according to Liza, and she spoke of them fondly. Emily didn’t know much about motorcycle gangs and none of them ever came to her bakery. She really wanted to keep it that way. They were a little scary for her.

That gray-eyed gaze moved over her until the blond lost patience. “Snow, we still moving this frame?”

Snow returned his attention to the task, and someone else walked over to her.

“Emily, how are you?” Jade Dock asked. “Making your deliveries?”

Emily smiled. “I am. How are you?”

“Donating some things,” Jade said, watching the men carry the bed frame carefully through the shelter door. “At least I have some strong help to move them.”

Jade walked with her into the shelter. As she always did, Emily placed the box of treats on the receptionist’s desk just inside.

“Who’s your friend?” a deep voice behind her asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Guys, this is Emily,” Jade said, motioning to the two bikers who were apparently with her. To Emily, she said, “This is Hero and Snow.”

Emily shook hands with both, noticing the one she called Snow wasn’t too quick to release her hand. By the time he did, she noticed the blond had his arm around Jade’s waist. So they were a couple?

“I’d better get going,” Emily said. “It’s nice meeting you.”

“I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow?” Jade called as she walked back to the SUV.

When I get to tell the committee we need another Santa Claus, and we just have two weeks to find one? Yes, wouldn’t miss it.

“I’ll see you there,” Emily said over her shoulder as she reached the door. And as she headed back to her SUV, she just hoped the damn thing would start and not embarrass her in front of the bikers.

* * *

Snow

August Crowe, Snow to his MC, watched the petite blonde rush back to her SUV, the long braid of her hair dancing behind her. She looked so perky in her soft sweater and form-hugging slacks. He’d never seen an ass like that on such an uppity girl.

“Who’s that?” Snow asked Jade as he helped Hero get the old box spring out of the truck bed.

Jade watched her drive away in her SUV before turning back to Snow. “That’s Emily Frost. She owns Whisk and Whimsy in town. It’s a bakery.”

Frost, huh? That had Snow grinning. They sounded like a matched pair.

“Say that five times really fast,” Hero said from the other side of the furniture they were moving.

Figures. She looked like someone you’d find in a bakery, making treats. If he thought she’d give him the time of day, Snow would become a bakery patron real fucking fast. But from the look she cut him, he probably wouldn’t have a lot of luck.

“What meeting is tomorrow?” Hero asked Jade, holding one end of the box spring and guiding Snow who carried the other.

“Planning committee for the annual kids’ Christmas party,” Jade explained. “It’s only two weeks away.”

Jade had mentioned it recently. Doing an event for the poor kids in Mercy sounded like a good plan to him. If Miss Uppity was in on it, she had a good heart.

“If you need help with that, let me know,” Snow said. It earned him a look from both Jade and Hero, but he meant it. There had been a few times when he’d been a kid that he and his family wouldn’t have had food if not for the kindness of others. He liked the idea of paying it forward.

“Thank you, Snow,” Jade told him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hero shook his head as they reached the shelter door.

“What?” Snow asked. “Something wrong with wanting to help kids? Razor did say we should do some community outreach.”

“Not that,” Hero said. “The blonde. I’d forget that if I were you.”

“Why?” Jade asked. “Emily’s nice.”

“Maybe so,” Hero said. “But I’d be willing to bet someone in an MC isn’t exactly her type.”

“I might have said the same thing once,” Jade didn’t look convinced. “You can’t assume things like that.”

She had a point.

“So the party is for any kid in Mercy?” Snow asked as they maneuvered the box spring through the shelter door.

Jade followed them. “Technically. We have to leave it open for anyone to avoid singling people out, you know? The ones who really need help.”

“Good approach,” Snow said.

“I’m told each year we have a tree and decorations. There’s an older man who comes to play Santa Claus. There are treats for everyone and everyone gets a gift from Santa. We identify the kids who really need help and they get different gifts than the ones we give the other kids that show up.”

“Makes sense,” Snow said. “What do the poor kids get?”

“The smaller ones get a toy, some candy, and a gift card this year,” Jade explained. “The older kids get candy and a bigger gift card. Santa tells them they can’t open their presents until Christmas Eve. Liza said most of the time that works.”

It was thoughtful.

They set the box spring down, heading back out for the mattress.

“Offer stands,” Snow said to Jade. “Let me know if I can help. Even if it’s just setup.”

 

 

 

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.

 

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

 

Preorder Your Copy

 

For the Love of Winter Anthology #promo #teasertuesday #comingsoon #excerpt #holidayromance #romance #rabtbooktours @ReadersRoost @RABTBookTours

Holiday Romance

Date Published: December 6, 2023

 

Bake your cookies, light some candles, trim your trees, and be enchanted with thirteen sweet-to-spicy Chanukah, Christmas, and New Year’s novellas that will sweep you from colonial days to contemporary times—each bearing a gift of happily-ever-after grand finales. This joyous collection is…

 

A Winter Mating by Lia Davis. He returns to Willow Glen with one goal, to claim his mate. Convincing her that she belongs to him will be his toughest challenge, but he’s not above using seduction to get what he wants.

One Night at Christmas by Danica Winters. As the busy owner of a veterinary clinic, Emily Avery always has her hands full of puppies but empty of the one thing she really isn’t sure she wants anyway—a man. When the kind-hearted Derek Night makes an emergency call to help his mom’s naughty pup, they both must step outside of their shells and let the magic of Christmas and one mischievous pup bring them together.

The Christmas Crash by Tessa Lyons. Sparks fly when a relentless optimist and a grieving veterinarian are snowed in together at Christmas. Can they rediscover the magic of the season and find love in the most unexpected place?

His Christmas Date by Sara J. Walker. In this heartwarming story of seasoned romance, Dino Dudley and Hilde McQuire must navigate family drama and their own emotional baggage to find true love.

Jordyn’s Christmas Gift by Marie Morton. Jordyn Billings, a busy marketing executive, is gifted a holiday getaway to Chateau D’Or by her family, where she discovers an unforgettable and life-changing Christmas gift.

Four Chanukahs and a Wedding by Merrie Angel. Widowed and alone in 1973, Millie explores a professional photographer’s life, and stumbles upon Adam–an insatiable adventure seeker related to Jackie Kennedy. Will they find a way to ignite a flame that burns far beyond Millie’s expectations and set ablaze their own festival of lights?

Recipe for Romance by Gloria Ferguson. Ashley McClain wants to win the Holiday Bake-Off with her late mom’s cupcake recipe. Can she join forces with her friend and neighbor to claim the prize and a bit of romance just in time for Christmas?

Before the Rising Sun by V.L. Czerny. Their romance blighted at a colonial ball, Gertrude and Nicholas, forgetting their past acquaintance, are maneuvered by the Christmas spirit to set love loose and so refashion time’s expected plans.

Unexpected Angels by C.L. Hart. Sometimes the best things come together when everything is falling apart.

Christmas Market Magic by Tessie Benton. Sydney Hawthorne hires an escort for a business date, but he’s not what he appears to be, and their mutual deception sparks desire while careers hang in the balance.

A Merry White Christmas by Sally Murphy. Merry London, tasked with organizing an opulent Christmas ball for the McPhersons, faces an unexpected challenge in the form of Joel McPherson, whose fiery charm threatens to melt her icy exterior and unravel her meticulously laid plans.

Lavender and Love Restored by M.J. Gates. Chief architect Jess Carlson is restoring a haunted historic hotel and helping a friendly spirit while reclaiming her life and love before the hotel’s grand reopening on New Year’s Eve.

Marry Me by Midnight by Leah Miles. Navy SEAL Kendall Nelson can’t manage a successful proposal, and single mom Luisa Sanchez has no time for romance.

 

Proceeds benefit the First Coast Romance Writers, an independent non-profit organization helping writers hone their craft and expand their knowledge of the publishing industry.

Excerpt from Unexpected Angels by C.L. Hart

 

“What sort of business do you have in Phoenix, if you don’t mind saying?” Pika asked.

“I’m an FBI agent,” Macario explained. “I’ve been pursuing a very clever con artist for many years. She disappeared off the radar for a while but several cases matching her M.O. have cropped up in Phoenix recently. I was on the way to their field office for a debriefing.”

“I get the feeling this case is personal.”

“It is,” Macario admitted. “This woman destroyed my family. The worst part is, I reintroduced my dad to her because I didn’t recognize her at first. She was posing as an organizer at the Salvation
Mission. My relationship with my father was pretty fractured at that point, and I fell for her feigned friendliness, hook, line, and sinker. It wasn’t long before I realized it was my dad, she was interested in. More specifically, she was interested in his money.”

“I’m sensing that you’re estranged from your father.”

“Are you psychic or something?” Macario asked. There was a mixture of surprise and suspicion in his voice and expression.

“Like you, I’m good at reading people. I can see the hurt on your face and hear it in your voice.”

“If you ever get tired of renting cars to harried passengers, you should consider joining the FBI,” Macario said. “You’re better at sussing people than half the agents I’ve worked with.”

“I’d love to hear more of your story, but Dom’s here,” Pika said, gesturing towards a sprightly aqua-colored hybrid vehicle pulling up to the curb. A plump little silver-haired man got out of
the vehicle, smiling and waving. Macario couldn’t help but be charmed by his formal-looking chauffeur’s uniform combined with a jolly Christmas cap.

 

About the Author

C. L. Hart, the owner and sole employee of Naughty Netherworld Press, is spoken of in hushed tones. She is described as The Mad Scribe of the Northeastern Colorado Plains, The Terrible Old Woman, and The Author That Should Not Be.

When not penning sanity-destroying works of dystopian fiction, Lovecraftian fantasy, or old-school horror with the occasional sweet romance thrown in to upset the cosmic apple cart, Ms. Hart enjoys creating baked goods she hopes will be considered palatable.

Ms. Hart shares a home in a remote rural town of 134 souls with her adult son and three cats. Her sense of fashion is best described as Early Twenty-First Century Unmade Bed. This disabled former nurse can usually be found arguing with herself about subplots or rehabilitating eldritch
horrors.

Follow C. L. Hart

C. L. Hart Amazon Author Page

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Naughty Netherworld Press Blog

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Naughty Netherworld Press Start Page

 

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‘Tis the Season by Gale Stanley #promo #teaser #excerpt #holiday #gayromance #comingsoon #preorder #rabtbooktours @GaleStanley @changelingpress @RABTBookTours

Passages, Book 1

Holiday, Gay, Romance, New Adult

Date Published: December 01, 2023

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

Is it possible to be both a good Jew and a gay man? Jonah Dillon
doesn’t think so. He can’t reconcile his faith with his
attraction to men so he turns his back on Judaism. Away at college for the
holidays, he plans to lose his virginity to Christian, the blue-eyed, blond,
goy of his dreams.

But fate intervenes when Jonah meets Aaron Beck, an observant Jew, and they
end up celebrating Hanukkah together. Aaron tells Jonah they’re
beschert—meant to be. Jonah’s not sure he believes it, but he’s
lonely and welcomes Aaron’s company even if he has to celebrate Hanukkah to
get it.

Can Aaron bridge the gap and convince Jonah to take a leap of faith? Or
will they have to give up their desire for a future together?

Excerpt

Copyright ©2023 Gale Stanley

The man’s image in the mirror, framed by small twinkling lights and
swags of spruce and holly, appeared to be just the sort of ornament Jonah
had been looking for all his life — or at least the part of his life that
spanned the years since puberty. The phrase “objects in the mirror are
closer than they appear” came to mind, making him smile. I should be
so lucky.

Unfortunately, Jonah’s plan to remain on campus for the holidays and
lose his virginity to a non-Jew, a goy, wasn’t going according to
plan, although he’d gone to great lengths to make it happen.

The worst part had to be when he told his parents that he wouldn’t be
coming home for Hanukkah. None of the excuses he came up with felt right and
he procrastinated for a long time.

Finally, he could wait no longer. Working up the courage, he called his
mother and blurted out the dreaded words, before he lost his nerve.
“I’ll be staying on campus for the holidays.”

Dead silence followed his announcement, followed by a worried,
“Why?”

Jonah had never been good at lying. He struggled to sound believable.
“I have so much to do. The workload in grad school is much heavier and
the holidays are the best time to catch up.”

“Bring your work home.”

Also not good at asserting himself, Jonah hemmed and hawed.
“I’d be way too busy. No time to interact.”

Unfortunately, his mother was way too good at guilt-tripping him.

Her voice wavered, and she sounded on the verge of tears. “We just
want to see you. We don’t ask for much. And we’ve always spent
Hanukkah together. I’m making your favorites, latkes and sweet
kugel.”

A knife pierced his heart, but Jonah thought fast and stayed firm.
“One of my friends is stuck on campus, too, and I promised him we
would study together.” Another lie.

“Bring him home.”

“I can’t, Mom, He’s… it’s just
that…”

“He’s a girl, isn’t he? Well, if it doesn’t work
out, you can always change your mind and come home.”

“Sorry, Mom. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Jonah hung up before his mom could ask any more questions. Damn, she
sounded like her world had come to an end. If only he wasn’t an only
child. If he had a sibling to pick up the slack, it would make his life a
whole lot easier. Taking a few deep breaths, he calmed himself. There would
be other holidays.

Now, sitting alone at a bar, he wondered if all the grief he’d caused
his mother had been for nothing. Not many students or professors had
remained on campus, so Jonah had ventured off campus to find a hook-up.
Happy Hour at a bar seemed the best option, but Jonah didn’t have an
ounce of gaydar in his body, and gay guys didn’t go around wearing
sexual ID tags. Luckily, he’d found a gay watering hole in the small
college town. The rainbow flag flying out front had been a dead giveaway,
and the name, The Rainbow Room. Could it be any gayer? When he first saw it,
he wanted to take off like a scared rabbit, but he’d been doing that
for far too long.

Jonah had forced himself to open the door and go inside. It was a gay bar,
so what? Nothing remarkable, nothing to be scared of, just a neighborhood
bar, a place where a guy could have a conversation without screaming over
loud dance music. Actually, there was no dance floor, and that was all good
too. Jonah Dillon didn’t dance, especially with other men. The only
thing that differentiated The Rainbow Room from any other corner dive was
the fact that it was devoid of women.

Wooden stools butted up against a foot rail at the bar and the mirrored
wall behind the bar threw back his reflection. A bearded bartender, sleeves
rolled up over hairy forearms, filled orders. Holiday decorations were
minimal. Other than the lights around the mirror, there weren’t any,
and that was okay because he’d been born and raised Jewish, and a man
assimilated a lot of attitudes and beliefs in twenty-one years. Ridding
himself of them would take a lifetime. At least.

Having to stare at a Christmas tree or a Nativity scene while flirting with
a blond goy would have made him feel even guiltier. Ironic, that the thought
of sucking an uncut cock didn’t inspire quite the same guilt. Or maybe
he was just too fucking horny to care anymore. Lost in thought, Jonah
wondered if he was normal. Between waking up with morning wood and
masturbating before bed, it seemed like he was always thinking about
sex.

When he got to college, he’d settled for hurried blowjobs with other
students. It took the edge off, but Jonah wanted more. It was time to let
someone put their dick in his ass so he could lose his anal virginity.
Finding a willing partner who made him feel comfortable was primary. One
thing he was sure of, he wouldn’t be comfortable having sex with
another Jew.

So here he was, trying to fit in with the goyim, to the point of actually
shopping for one of those ugly red and green Christmas sweaters with
prancing deer. Seeing himself in the dressing room mirror shocked the hell
out of him, but he bought it anyway, and ran out of the shop before he could
change his mind. He wore it like a costume, thinking it would make him feel
less inhibited and able to take some risks.

But as Jonah discovered, the sweater didn’t help him blend in. His
appearance in the bar had triggered a few snickers, and after glancing
around at the jeans-and-sweatshirt crowd, he’d regretted his
choice.

His inner voice told him he was trying too hard and he looked like an
asshole. At the time, it’d seemed like a good idea. Now, he just felt
dumb, but he forgave himself for not getting it right and toughed it out.
Fuck it.

Jonah ordered a beer. The bartender set down a mug wet with condensation,
and a bowl of peanuts. Jonah took a few and cracked them out of their
shells. He tried to look like he belonged, but nobody looked like him and
everybody seemed to be with friends. Ignoring the conversations around him,
he glanced at his watch every so often, as if he were waiting for someone.
It made him feel less alone. Pathetic.

What would his mother say if she could see him now? Come home, boychik. You
don’t belong there. Thank goodness, she was miles away and oblivious.
He’d never told his parents he was gay. Hell, it had taken years to
admit it to himself.

He concentrated on today’s goal — find a guy to have sex with. How
hard could it be? Pretty damn hard, even in a place that was user
friendly.

Jonah took another swallow of his beer. God, he hated this time of the
year. The holidays always made him feel more alone than ever. His back was
to the room, but he could still see the crowd in the mirror — guys of all
shapes and sizes, pairing up like animals ready to board Noah’s Ark,
while he was mooning over a stranger. It was damn depressing.

Finishing his beer, he scanned the mirror for the blond. Yep, still there,
but focused on the two men who framed him like bookends.

Hooking up with the man in the mirror didn’t seem likely. Jonah would
not, could not, make the first move, and for sure he didn’t expect the
hot blond to hit on him. Why would he? Jonah was a man who didn’t
stand out in a crowd, unless it was for all the wrong reasons. After a
lifetime of doing stupid shit, he’d become an expert at sabotaging
himself. Too bad State College didn’t offer a course in How Not to
Embarrass Yourself.

The hot blond was exactly the type of man he could see himself with. He had
the sun-kissed good looks of a surfer dude — blond, blue-eyed, and
cherub-cheeked — a nice contrast to Jonah’s dark brown hair, hazel
eyes, and stubbled jaw. The nerdy guy and the goy. Pitiful. More than the
width of the bar separated them.

But looking couldn’t hurt.

 

About the Author

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her
nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and
pencil.

Some things never change.

 

Contact Links

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@changelingpress

 

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Iron by Harley Wylde #promo #teasertuesday #excerpt #comingsoon #motorcycleclubromance #romanticsuspense #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance

Hades Abyss MC, Book 11

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: November 24, 2023

 

 

Nari – Pain. Humiliation. Those are the things my father taught me, and every man I’ve met since. Running away from home didn’t fix
anything. Now I’m nineteen and back in the town my family calls home. I haven’t told them I’m here, and I don’t plan to. But I also didn’t count on a biker giving me a ride, and leaving me at the
Hades Abyss compound. They say they’ll help me, but can I trust them? What if they’re just as bad as all the others?

Iron –I’m no stranger to the darker side of life. Sometimes I’m the monster lurking in the shadows. Still, there’s a line I won’t cross. I will never harm an innocent woman or child. The moment I saw the tiny Asian woman cowering in front of Titan, I wanted to protect
her from the world. She’s been beaten, yet she’s not broken. I’ve never met anyone like Nari before. Despite how timid she appears, she’s stronger than she realizes. I know I’ll do whatever it
takes to make her smile and keep her safe, even if it means getting blood on my hands. The moment her family tries to take her from me, I’ll show them what it means for Nari to be mine.

 

WARNING: Iron is intended for readers 18+ due to bad language, violence, and adult situations. There’s no cheating, no cliffhanger, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Harley Wylde

 

Nari

My cheek pressed into the carpet as Gio held me down. I knew I’d be
covered in bruises within the hour, if I wasn’t already. Nothing new.
It seemed all I had to do was breathe in order to piss him off. I’d
only stayed due to a lack of options. Leaving Gio would only mean taking a
chance on someone else. Men didn’t help runaway teens for nothing.
They either made us drug mules, thieves, or prostitutes. I couldn’t
think of a way to escape. Everyone I’d ever trusted had betrayed me.
Why should that change?

If things had been different, if my family had cared even a little, I never
would have run away. Living at home had been awful, but my life on the
streets was far worse.

“You stupid, worthless cunt! Where’s my money?” he asked
for the fifth time. As if my answer was suddenly going to change.

“I told you I don’t have it. I couldn’t find any work
today, Gio.” Or more accurately, I hadn’t found a mark. Stealing
was my forte.

He leaned in closer. “Then you have a choice, Nari. You can pay the
money by spending a few nights at the house on Spruce, or you find a high
paying job before morning. Which is it going to be?”

I swallowed hard. It wasn’t really a choice at all. I refused to go
near drugs, and I really didn’t want to be a whore. I couldn’t
understand the girls and women who chose that path. I didn’t look down
on them for it, but it wasn’t something I’d ever voluntarily do.
Of course, if I wanted a legal job, there was always the strip club. Except
I hadn’t really been blessed in the curves department. I didn’t
even need a bra. Who the hell would pay to watch me take my clothes off?
Now, letting him use me as a whore in his brothel? That was a different
story. Those men didn’t much care what a woman looked like, and I knew
he wouldn’t be sending his top customers my way. All they wanted was a
living woman to fuck, although it wouldn’t surprise me if some
didn’t even care if I was alive when they fucked me. I’d learned
the hard way just how screwed up people could be.

“I’ll find a job,” I said. “Please, Gio. I really
tried.”

He finally released me and stood. “Fine. By sunrise, you better have
something lined up. If not, don’t bother coming home. You either take
your ass over to Spruce, or you better run.”

As if running would do me any good. He’d track me down and things
would be even worse. But I had to try. I refused to go down without a fight,
or at the very least a last-ditch effort. If only I’d known I was
heading this direction the moment I walked out of my dad’s house. Not
once had I seen my picture on the news or in any papers. He’d never
bothered to search for me. Why would he when he had his precious Joon?

Maybe I could go home. Or at least back to my hometown. I didn’t
think Gio would ever think to look for me there. He knew how much I hated
that place, and the hell I’d been through while I lived at home. Yeah.
I should go back. I didn’t bring in enough money for him to chase me
across state lines.

I waited until Gio left, then packed a small backpack. It wasn’t like
I owned much anyway. Grabbing the little bit of cash I’d managed to
hide, I shoved it into my satchel and left the house for the last time. One
way or another, I was leaving this place behind. I didn’t care if I
had to hitchhike all the way back to Mississippi.

Every step made pain explode through my body. I stopped to put on my hoodie
and made sure my face was mostly covered. I didn’t need anyone seeing
the marks on my body and stopping to ask questions. A rumble of a motorcycle
came up behind me and slowed. I quickly glanced toward the street and
realized the man was eyeing me.

I assessed his overall size and wondered if I could outrun him. Men
prowling the streets for women always spelled trouble.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked.

I took in every detail of his appearance, from his Native American genes to
the leather cut declaring him part of the Reckless Kings MC. I hadn’t
heard of them, but there was a group of bikers in my hometown. They’d
been a little scary, but I’d never heard of them hurting kids or
anything. Was his club the same? Just because he looked rough and little
scary didn’t mean he was a bad guy. Sometimes, the ones who looked
like wholesome decent men were the most vicious.

He sighed and inched the bike closer. “Look. My name is Crow.
I’m not going to hurt you, but it looks like you’re in some
trouble and trying to get out of here. So you can get on the back of my bike
and I’ll take you as far as I can. Or you can keep walking and hope
whoever you’re running from doesn’t catch up. With the way
you’re moving, I’m going to assume someone beat the hell out of
you.”

I winced. He noticed that? “I’m going to
Mississippi.”

“What part?” he asked.

“Ever heard of a club called the Hades Abyss? I’m going to that
town,” I said.

He nodded. “I know them. Get on and I’ll make sure you get
home. It’s a little out of my way, but it’s fine.”

Without another thought, I climbed on behind him and put my arms around his
waist. It wasn’t my first time on a motorcycle, even if it had been
years ago. It also wasn’t the first time I’d put my trust in a
stranger. He’d either keep me safe, or I’d trade one abusive
asshole for another.

“I’m Nari,” I said. “Thanks for the
ride.”

“Sure thing, kid. Hold on tight.” He twisted the throttle ,
revving the engine, then eased the bike forward. As he picked up speed and
shifted gears, the wind whipped the hood off my head. I closed my eyes and
pressed my forehead to his back. For the first time in forever, I felt
free.

I didn’t know if I’d made the right choice, but there was no
going back now.

About the Author

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

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

Author’s Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook: @harleywylde

Author on Twitter: @HarleyW_Writer

 

Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress

 

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Bewitched by the Bear by Jessica Coulter Smith #promo #teasertuesday #excerpt #paranormal #shifterromance #womensfiction #rabtbooktours @changelingpress @RABTBookTours

A Paranormal Women’s Fiction / Shifter Romance Novella

Date to be Published: November 17, 2023

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

Discover the power of true love in this spellbinding tale of magic and adventure.

All Amara wants is to live a life of adventure, without being tied down. With the dark fae relentlessly pursuing her, she needs a place to hide. Her gram’s cottage seems like the perfect spot, but the old witch’s words leave Amara unsettled — What you seek is in Cutter’s Creek.

Alpha bear shifter Hale is determined to safeguard those closest to him. His life takes an unexpected turn when he crosses paths with a captivating witch. Enchanted by her very presence, he’s unable to banish her from his thoughts.

As destiny ties them together, not even the dark fae will destroy their newfound happiness.

Uncover the magic in this fast-paced, insta-love story that’s sure to warm your heart.

 

Publisher’s Note: Bewitched by the Bear is based on the previously published short story Ruby and the Bear. Bewitched has been expanded and is now twice the length of the original story, complete with a new ending and steamier scenes. No cheating and a guaranteed happily ever after!

 

 

 

Excerpt

Lunar Cycle’s dance floor cleared the moment the wolf and the bear
began circling one another. Hale Klein watched as his cousin, Duncan Hunt,
flexed his claws in his partially shifted wolf state. It took a hell of a
lot of anger to hold a partial shift, and Hale figured Duncan had to be
running on pure rage. He had to admit, he had it coming. Hale didn’t
know what had come over him since losing his father, but something inside
him had twisted. He’d taken a lucrative business of being a security
consultant and warped it. For years, he’d been a gun for hire, for the
right price, regardless of whether he was fighting on the side of good or
bad. But as his cousin faced him, fighting for the place of alpha within the
pack, he realized perhaps he’d gone too far. His hold, at first, had
been tenuous, as the adopted son of the rightful alpha.

This fight wasn’t pointless, exactly, but Hale could think of better
things to fight over — no woman was worth bloodshed. Not that’d
he’d wanted Marissa. It was more that Duncan had wanted her, and
suddenly she’d become the most attractive of women to Hale. He loved
rubbing his cousin’s nose in his alpha status, but this time,
he’d overstepped. Even he could admit it to himself at any rate.
Tricking Marissa into his bed and then tossing her aside like
yesterday’s garbage might not have been the best of plans. In his
defense, she’d been eager enough. If she’d truly loved Duncan,
she would have never strayed.

Looking back, Hale had to say that he wasn’t proud of himself. As
he’d gotten to know Marissa, he’d realized what a sweet girl she
was, and she truly hadn’t deserved what Hale had done to her. Even
still, her heart hadn’t completely belonged to Duncan. Hale had to
wonder if she’d only accepted his cousin because of his status in the
pack. Either way, was it really Hale’s fault she’d run away?
Duncan seemed to think so.

“Your reign over the Silver Crescent Pack is at an end,” Duncan
growled through his shifted snout. “It’s time for justice to
come to our lands.”

And you think you’re the wolf for the job? Hale taunted
telepathically. No one had been able to beat him in the seventy years
he’d been on this earth — what wolf could beat a bear? — and
definitely not in the twenty years he’d held the position of alpha.
What made his cousin think today would be any different?

“It’s time for a wolf to rule the wolves.” Duncan snapped
his jaws.

Bring it!

Duncan lunged at him, arms opening wide, claws brandished like the weapons
they were. Hale was bulky in his current form, but he also had power the
wolf couldn’t hope to match. Rising to his hind feet, Hale towered
over his cousin. Swiping out with a paw, he caught Duncan right across the
cheek, his claws sliding into the wolf’s skin like butter, leaving
three perfect slashes.

The wolf howled in outrage, twisting to come at Hale once more. Before the
bear could scramble out of the way, the wolf’s claws embedded in his
sides, leaving gouges in his tough hide. Hale snarled and broke free,
spinning to immediately launch another attack at his cousin. As his massive
bear paws arced through the air, his cousin charged.

Hale braced himself for the impact, claws aimed right for his
cousin’s flanks, their razor-sharp points digging into meat and
muscle. Duncan howled in outrage again, this time falling to his knees
before the bear. Hale didn’t want to kill his cousin. He only wanted
to prove a point. Opening his jaws wide, he fitted his mouth around
Duncan’s neck, forcing the other shifter to his hands and knees in
supplication. Hale growled long and low, not stopping until Duncan whimpered
in defeat.

Backing away from his whipped cousin, Hale shifted back to his human form.
Towering over the shifter now covered in wounds, Hale flexed his muscles,
ignoring the twinge in his sides from his open wounds, and kept his gaze
steady as he stared down at Duncan.

“Are we done?” he asked.

Duncan changed back to his fully human form and nodded. “We’re
done.”

“I’m sorry Marissa ran away, Duncan, and I’m sorry for
taking her from you. But there is no way that woman was your mate. If she
was, she wouldn’t have fallen into bed with me so easily. She would
have fought to be by your side, not caring whether or not the alpha was
interested in her. All she wanted was power, despite her sweet nature.
Females are all the same. They want the strongest in the pack, unless they
find their true-mate. Then no other male will do.”

“You don’t know that she wasn’t –”

“Yes, I do. And if you think about it, you’ll realize it too.
Since you’re worse off than I am, I’ll let you see the healer
first. Get your wounds tended and go home.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

Shaking his head in disgust, Hale turned, grabbed his shredded clothes off
the floor, and made his way through the crowd and outside the club. It
wouldn’t be the first time he’d driven home naked, and he
doubted it would be the last. There would always be someone wanting to
challenge him, someone thinking they were bigger, tougher. It hurt that his
cousin had been the one to instigate a fight with him. They’d fought
over the years, but it had always been more like sibling rivalry, not a
to-the-death fight over being alpha.

Hale dug his keys out of his pants pocket and slid into the large truck in
the parking lot. As the door slammed shut, he tossed his clothing on the
passenger’s seat and put his key into the ignition. The engine turned
over and he backed out of the space, then pulled out of the lot. He knew he
should just head home, to the alpha’s house in town, and call it a
night, but he wanted solitude, time to think, time to regroup. Being the
alpha meant he had an open-door policy, ensuring his pack could come to him
for whatever they needed regardless of the time. Change was coming. He could
feel it in the air, and he wasn’t certain if it was the good kind or
the bad kind.

About the Author

Jessica Coulter Smith is an acclaimed romance writer with a passion for
storytelling. Her works showcase the power of love and its ability to
transcend boundaries, capturing the hearts of audiences worldwide. With a
unique writing style and perspective, Jessica continues to inspire and
entertain readers from all walks of life.

Author on Facebook

Author on Instagram

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

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Dolly’s Ruse by Mikala Ash #promo #steampunk #murdermystery #romanticsuspense #comingsoon #excerpt #rabtbooktours @changelingpress @RABTBookTours

(Sisters Three)

Steampunk, Murder Mystery, Romantic Suspense

Date Published: Oct 20, 2023

 

London is under attack!

At Allenby Hall the net tightens around Dolly Preston and her gentleman friend, Pascal Baudelaire. Lies abound. Who can she trust?

The chaos in the heart of the empire requires Agent of the Queen, the predatory Miss Clayton, to make an ultimatum. The snowstorm ends, and Molly, caring for the wounded Mr. Allenby, is in for a shocking disappointment as events reveal the truth behind the Lewellen murder.

While London burns, Dolly risks her new relationship with the honourable Tom Gold by revealing her extreme carnal desires. The three Preston sisters deal with the threat to their family’s future in their own inimitable styles, but will they succeed?

 

EXCERPT

 

Copyright ©2023 Mikala Ash

 

I cleared a circle on the fogged glass and peered out at a vast sheet of
white: the snowbound grounds of Allenby Hall. Above the distant ice-shrouded
trees, the pale outline of the sun was visible through thin, leaden clouds.
It was a beautiful scene worthy of any Christmas postcard, but for all that
it was a cruel deceit. The picturesque vista cloaked a deadly reality, for a
fathom of snow entombed the landscape and smothered the helpless creatures
beneath. That was my melancholy state. I felt trapped, unable to extricate
myself from a suffocating fate.

Instead, I should have been happy, or at the very least satisfied. The
fornication, my stock in trade, had been as unrelenting as the snowfall.
Indeed, during the last week all my lusty holes had been filled countless
times over.

“At last,” I murmured. “It has finally
stopped.”

“Come back to bed,” Anthony Jamieson implored.
“It’s too bloody cold to be out. The fire in the hearth has
died, but not the furnace in my heart.” He chuckled at his saucy
wit.

“My heart is incandescent with desire,” added Mathew, not one
to be outdone by his twin brother. “My cock is harder than an oak and
is impatient for your attention. Lying in such a state next to my brother
is, however, unbecoming in a gentleman of my manly nature.”

Though my quim pulsed with lust, I ignored their bantering. The Jamieson
twins, impecunious younger sons, were customers of long standing. Having
found me at Mrs. Q’s bawdy house, they often and enthusiastically
indulged their love of sodomy, my particular speciality, whenever they were
in funds, and were as generous as they could be. They had even invited me to
move from Mrs. Q’s to rooms in the fashionable West End, where I would
be theirs exclusively, their own private whore. My objections had simply
been financial — they would not be able to afford both the rent and the
extra they gave me to pass onto my impoverished Mama and my two half-sisters
Holly and Lolly. My and my full sisters’ goal was to get them out of
the Whitechapel slum in which they lived, and away to the country. Then I
had a flash of inspiration, and suggested the twins invite a third gentlemen
into the scheme to defray the costs.

Anthony interrupted my recollections. “I’m afraid our rampant
displays of lust have scared away your Frenchman, Dolly.”

He referred to that third gentleman, Pascal Baudelaire. He had come into my
life on a search for my sister, Molly, because of her nascent relationship
with an engineer, Mr. Lewellen, who had been brutally murdered. Molly had
stumbled upon the poor man. The fiend James Polk, who had minutes before
found the dying man, watched from the shadows, and had mistakenly believed
Lewellen had told her something as she comforted him in his last moments.
That mistake had set off a tumultuous couple of weeks, replete with gruesome
murders, violent kidnappings, daring robberies, and shootings with a roiling
undercurrent of espionage. Hardly the usual fare of an East End whore or toy
manufacturer, which was Pascal’s family business. He too had shared
our adventure by being kidnapped and losing a finger to the maniac’s
knife.

Pascal also enjoyed the depths of my arse, and I had brought him to Allenby
Hall while I visited my sister who was recovering from that same ordeal. The
twins, friends of Mr. Allenby, had unexpectedly shown up just in time to be
caught by the snowstorm.

With the intention of making the twins’ plan a reality I introduced
Pascal to the joys of group copulation, and the idea of sharing the cost of
the rooms which the Jamiesons proposed. He had been cautious at first but
had soon given himself up to the novelty of enjoying my holes in the company
of others, a new experience for him. He quickly agreed to the proposal so
when he visited London, he could use me with the two Jamiesons, rather than
the untold hundreds who visited me at Mrs. Q’s. His contribution would
allow the twins to finance my plan of relocating Mama. All that planning,
unfortunately, would be for naught. It wouldn’t be possible because of
that bitch, Miss Clayton.

“Though the bed is large, I think Pascal was afraid of accidently
touching my impressive member,” Mathew added with a mischievous
chuckle. “He should realise that I have eyes only for you,
Dolly.”

“I rather think, after our latest debauch,” Anthony mused
drowsily. “He has retreated to his own room to recuperate before Dolly
once again roused him into action. He is an impressive stallion, I must
admit.”

That he was. I sighed, feeling his future departure most keenly. Not from
this bed, but from my life entirely. A surge of guilt rushed though me. I
hadn’t told the twins of the disaster that had befallen me and Pascal
— that he would be soon leaving England, never to return. They would have
to give up the idea, and I would lose any chance of escaping Mrs. Q and
saving Mama.

Our sojourn here in Molly’s employer’s country estate had not
been all fun and games, hugs and kisses and inevitable bedroom antics. Our
stay had been overshadowed by the consequences of the Lewellen murder in
London, and the unexpected appearance of two Agents of the Queen, the
catlike Miss Clayton and her equally predatory Miss Felicity Cressy.

They suspected Pascal of being a foreign agent attempting to steal military
secrets from Mr. Allenby’s factory. Miss Clayton had ordered me to spy
on him, a repellent task which I’d soon whispered to him under the
bedclothes. Despite the cost of ending my dream, I’d begged Pascal to
leave England as soon the snowstorms had relinquished their bitter hold. He
resented the need, having protested his innocence, but had agreed, albeit
reluctantly, that the more distance between him and Miss Clayton the
better.

Feet padded behind me as one of the twins grabbed me by the waist, lifted
my silk bathrobe, and with his feet and knees he pushed my legs apart so his
determined cock could find my semen-filled cunny. Our debauchery had caused
us to run out of Cumberland prophylactics, which meant yet another douche
with Mrs. Q’s secret potion.

He draped a blanket over both our shoulders to keep us warm while he fucked
me. Was it Anthony or Mathew? I couldn’t tell. They were truly
identical in every respect, even to the size of their manly organ. The only
way to tell Mathew from his brother was to insert my finger in his arsehole
while he fucked me. He didn’t enjoy it, while his brother did. Whoever
it was, his thrusts were urgent and powerful, and I soon rested my forehead
against the cold pane and lost myself to his plundering.

 

About the Author

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

Author on Facebook

 

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

 

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Antler and Bone by Siondalin O’Craig #promo #teasertuesday #excerpt #comingsoon #fantasy #paranormal #womensfiction #rabtbooktours @ChangelingPress @RABTBookTours

(Celtic Magic 5): Mabon –Autumnal Equinox

 

Paranormal / Fantasy / Women’s Fiction

Date Published: 09/15/2023

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

 

 

Maine artist Libby McNulty’s dreams are haunted by the terrifying Wild Hunt of Celtic legend. As if that isn’t bad enough, the landlord threatens her and her friends with eviction in order to turn their apartments into more profitable condos.

Tom O’Sylvan is a reclusive combat vet who serves as the building manager. When Libby discovers Tom is also the Huntsman, legendary leader of the Wild Hunt, myth and ordinary life begin to collide. Can the two of them face their demons to save each other from danger?

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2023 Siondalin O’Craig

 

Libby McNulty reached a paint-spattered hand toward the chipped mug on the
counter, not turning her gaze from the six-foot-tall canvas standing on a
low easel. Her brush remained poised in the air. A drop of chartreuse paint
clung to its tip, quivering as if envious of the heavy raindrops splattering
the studio windows.

The image of the woman in the center of the canvas looked a lot like Libby,
or rather what Libby would have looked like if she were a goddess of the
hunt in medieval Ireland. The painted huntress wore a green velvet gown
instead of threadbare Lee jeans rolled up around her calves, and her auburn
ringlets bounced free under the canopy of autumn beech leaves, rather than
tucked haphazardly under a bandanna. In her left hand, the woman on the
canvas held a bow, while her right clenched an arrow rather than a
paintbrush. Their luminous chestnut eyes were exactly the same though;
alert, intent, seeing something beyond the edge of the picture.

Libby took a sip of her tea and grimaced. It had gone cold, and the milk
was sour. Its taste spread across her tongue and pulled her mind back inside
the white-washed wooden walls of her studio. She shivered.

The air was cold and damp, colder than it ought to be in September. Soon it
would be Mabon, the autumnal equinox, when the equal length of day and night
brought balance before the long winter slide, through the pumpkins and
trick-or-treating of Samhain, into the darkness of Yule on the longest night
of the year. Usually, the Mabon season meant sunny T-shirt days and warm
sweater nights, but the persistent rain this year had Libby shivering in her
plaid flannel shirt.

She set the mug back down on top of a folded letter pocked with tea stains.
The letter was signed by Dave Wolf, Vice President and Senior Partner of
James Carbill Real Property LLC. In other words, her landlord. It said
something about selling the building.

Despite the fact that she had a five-year lease with a renewal clause, the
letter made Libby uneasy. That lease had so much fine print, so many pages
she hadn’t read. Her anxiousness to sign something that said
she’d have a home and a place for her art for five years had her
putting blinders on, made her impatient.

She ran a chipped fingernail over the thick paper. It was signed in real
blue-black ink from an expensive fountain pen. Libby knew ink and pigments
better than leases; she made most of her own from bits of trees, flowers,
mushrooms, and stones that she gathered from the forest and rocky shore
surrounding this little town of Lisna, Maine. She was able to make ink and
paints from the plants and barks and stuff she found walking through the
woods — materials that were free to anyone who could read the land. Yet
that blessing was so easily used for evil rather than beauty. She pondered
how many people’s lives around the world had been changed, even
eliminated, by the stroke of ink on paper, wielded for power rather than
art.

But I have my lease, Libby reminded herself again. They can’t kick me
out, at least not for another five years. Over the drum of rain, Libby could
hear the creaking floorboards that rested overtop of her studio’s tin
ceiling, footsteps of her little band of apartment neighbors. Straight
overhead was the apartment of dear little KatieMor. Next to that, retired
lobsterman Jim Johnson lived with Mario Perkins. Jim with his cane and Mario
with his walker both relied on the Limerick Block elevator as the only way
they could stay living out their end days in their own hometown. Donna
Constantine, the librarian. The Halls, who had a business training
nonprofits how to organize. And Tom O’Sylvan — Tomayo — the building
manager. Libby often heard his distinctive footsteps heading down the stairs
and out the door late in the evening, his big black Irish wolfhound padding
by his side.

Fingering the triskele medallion she wore around her neck, Libby stepped
back and took another look at the painting. Behind the Libby-as-Huntress
stood a cloaked and hooded figure, its face obscured. They stood at the
edge-line between a harvested field and a late-autumn beech forest. The
Libby-Huntress looked off-canvas, toward where, in the real forest just
north of town that it was painted to resemble, a mysterious standing stone
jutted out of the ground in a mossy clearing. The stone — a foot taller
than Libby, and covered with a patchwork of pale green and orange lichens —
had become a grounding point for Libby in her many hours of wandering
through the woods, gathering fiddleheads, ramps, and nettles to eat, along
with oak galls and dyer’s polypore mushrooms to make ink and
paints.

That man whose face lay hidden below the dark hood haunted Libby’s
restless dreams. She could feel him now, pulling her out of her studio
again, out past the brick walls of the Limerick Block, beyond the small
bounds of the village of Lisna, back into the painting, back into the
trees.

The bright green drop of paint let go and landed with an audible plop on
one of Libby’s black canvas sneakers. Libby looked down.

I just need a good long walk, she thought. If only this rain would let up.
A few hours in the forest would set her back to rights, let her get some
sleep, some real sleep, a night without fractured bits of nightmare shocking
her awake. Visions of the stone, the hooded man, a hunt, and all-consuming
flame.

 

About the Author

Siondalin O’Craig writes romance with the slow burn of a peat fire on an
autumn night deep in the woodland hills. Sip a glass of Irish whiskey, turn
the page, and let the magic overtake you. Siondalin lives in the mountains
of New England where she walks under the trees celebrating the wheel of the
year, grows a luscious garden full of magical herbs, and plays a wicked
Irish fiddle. Follow her on Facebook and email her at
siondalinocraig@gmail.com to sign up for her newsletter.

 

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

 

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Live Ever-Fresh by Kathy Moore #promo #selfhelp #nonfiction #excerpt #comingsoon #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours

Self-Help / Spiritual / Counseling and Recovery / Geared for Women

Date Published: 09-11-2023

 

 

Burned out from ministering to people? Living in survival mode?

Are you serving as a pastor, worship leader, counselor, working with teens or children, or ministering regularly to people in some capacity, and often feel like quitting?

Live Ever-Fresh is the fruit of Pastor Kathy Moore’s journey in overcoming ministry burnout. She has served in church leadership/ministry for over 32 years and understands the complexity of challenges all types of leaders face.

 

  – Discover and change the unhealthy mindsets that lead to burnout

  – Develop vital skills that will empower you for healthy communication, boundaries, and maintaining passion as you minister to people

  – Learn to live as “His ever-fresh lily thriving on His love!” Song of Songs 2:1

 

What might ministry burnout look like?

   Do you have an internal critic telling you that you should be doing more? Do you feel obligated to help?

   Do you struggle with feeling used, taken advantage of, or not appreciated?

   Are you driven by a need to please people and feel guilty when you say “no” to helping?

   Do you find yourself rehashing conversations in your head or preoccupied with peoples problems?

   Do you feel drained from carrying so many responsibilities and wearing so many hats?

   Do you find yourself wanting to avoid the very people you use to love talking to and helping?

 

If you answered “yes” to 2 or more of these questions, then this book is for you.

 

 

 

Excerpt

Introduction: Elijah’s Cry Was

My Cry Too

______________________

 

“I’ve have had enough, Lord, …take my life,”
Elijah cried out in desperation. In 1 Kings 19:4 NIV, Elijah had reached his
lowest point and was ready to give up. I thought about Elijah as I spoke
those same words to my precious Jesus, “I’ve had enough!
I’m done. I quit.” Elijah had experienced some amazing victories
and seen God do awesome things, and so had I. Then, his enemy, Jezebel,
sought to kill him, and he became afraid. Feeling alone in his battle, he
ran for his life. I remember wrestling with the Lord as Elijah did that day.
Battle weary, I wanted to quit the ministry and get off the front lines.
Yet, my greatest desire was to please Jesus, and He always met me in my
place of struggle. One of my most powerful God encounters happened in one of
my dark moments of pain.

Every leader I know has gone through seasons of wanting to quit. Sadly,
many have. Burnout has led many beautiful, gifted, anointed leaders to leave
the ministry. God has called me to share the process He took me through to
help others avoid or overcome ministry burnout. Get ready to go on a
powerful journey to learn how to live ever-fresh, my friends.

 

According to a Barna Survey

(11-16-2021)

38% of pastors want to quit.

 

You will discover and replace key unhealthy mindsets that lead to burn out
and develop skills that will lead you from survival mode to enjoying and
living powerfully in Christ again. Think about dandelions in the spring. You
go out and mow your beautiful, green lawn, and then a week later, one by
one, all those dandelions have popped up again. What do you need to do to
get rid of a dandelion for good? You must pull it up from the roots to get
rid of it. That’s where our journey will begin too. We are going after
the roots: the unhealthy mindsets lurking below the surface. We will explore
some truths that the enemy had twisted into an unhealthy extreme—in me
and others I know—to wear out Father’s compassionate and
mercy-filled servants.

With each truth, I will be giving you some action steps to take in each
chapter. This is vital, because it’s the application that leads to
transformation.

Additionally, I will share some truth statements for you to intentionally
speak out loud. Doing this will build strongholds of truth to replace the
unhealthy mindsets. I call them freedom statements because it’s the
truth you truly know that sets you free (John 8:32)!

Lastly, I have included a prayer in each chapter to make room for Jesus to
minister to you. Ready, set, let’s go, beloved ones!

About the Author

Kathy Moore, a native-born Pennsylvanian, grew up with a passion and a heart for serving people from a young age. This passion led her to pursue her master’s degree in counselling from Regents University. Since then, Kathy has served and ministered to people of many different age groups in varied capacities. Over the past 32 years her experience includes: youth leader (teens), children’s ministry leader, home group leader, inner healing ministry, counseling, and teaching in a variety of settings. She is also the co-founder of the ministry “Diapers for Darlings” that provides diapers and essentials for babies and moms in her county. She is now serving as an administrator and is on staff as one of the pastors at Living Word Fellowship in Wellsboro, PA.

After experiencing her own personal burnout and healing from the Lord, it’s become Kathy’s passion to help people recover from survival mode, experience healing, and be equipped to live “Ever-Fresh and Thriving on His Love.” She has a gift for helping people discover and
break free from long-standing lies, to receive emotional healing from Jesus, to recover passion, and to offer the tools to live healthy, refreshed lives. Kathy and her husband Dave of 36+ years are blessed to have four children and one grandchild.

 

Contact Link

Website

 

The Big Blue by Anne Kane #comingsoon #excerpt #teaser #paranormal #womensfiction #rabtbooktours @annekane @changelingpress @RABTBookTours

(Protect & Serve)

Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Shifters, Suspense

Date Published: August 18, 2023

 

 

Tundra’s a polar bear shifter with a hankering for some Big Blue.

Polar bear shifters are rare these days, and most of them keep a low profile. Tundra knows the rules, but tonight she needs to get laid, and it will take a strong man to satisfy her.

Alex’s buddies call him Big Blue, and they’re closer to the truth than most of them know, but he does his best to hide his true nature — trolls have a nasty reputation in this brave new world.

The very first time Tundra sees Blue, she knows she had to have him. What she doesn’t realize is that she’ll never want to let him go. So when Alex goes to confront the head of a vicious cabal, Tundra follows to make sure he doesn’t get hurt. After all, even a troll’s hide isn’t as thick as a polar bear’s.

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Anne Kane

I stalked across the bar and hauled myself up onto one of the few empty barstools. It looked like the entire neighborhood had decided to drown their sorrows at the same time. At least that meant there was a good selection of men available. Good thing, because right now I was feeling hornier than a werewolf during the full moon, and pissed enough not to be too picky about whom I chose to spend the night with. Talks with my self-appointed guardian Tyrone always had this effect on me. Make that monologues. I don’t think I’d managed to get in more than two words during the entire fiasco.

I waved my hand to catch Sam’s attention, and motioned him to bring me a drink. Sam had been bartending at Joe’s Bar long enough to know what I wanted. I swiveled the chair and surveyed the room, considering my options. The three guys at the pool table weren’t bad looking, and there were a few likely candidates at a table in the far corner, but they all looked just a tad too civilized for my taste tonight. I was in the mood for something wild.

A gust of wind drew my attention to the door. The man who entered sent heat curling deep in my gut. Civilized was the last word that came to mind. Hard. Wild. Uncivilized. Yeah, those described him to a T.

A riot of dark hair curled all the way to the blue uniform stretched tight across his huge shoulders. He reminded me of the football players at the inner city stadiums, wide and covered with thick ropes of muscle. A tingle of anticipation raced through me. His dark eyes swept the room with cynical disinterest as he shouldered his way through the noisy crowd, and I found
myself holding my breath as I waited for him to notice me.

“He’s trouble, Tundra. Don’t even think about it.” Sam slapped the beer down in front of me, breaking the spell.

“You know him?” I ignored the bartender’s frown. I was way past needing someone to vet my dates. “I don’t remember seeing him in here before.”

Sam nodded. “Alex is a loner, a beat cop down at the precinct. He doesn’t come in here often. Last time he did, it took me two days to clean up the mess.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice so I had to strain to hear his words. “I heard a rumor that there’s a troll somewhere in
his family tree, and I’m inclined to believe it.”

“Really.” I swept my tongue across my suddenly dry lips as I watched the slide of tight material over his ass. “That could make things very… interesting.” Sam snorted and shook his head as I took a long pull on my drink. “That’s one word for it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

I laughed, throwing him a saucy grin as I slid off the barstool. “Warning duly noted. Wish me luck!” Turning my back on his disapproving frown, I wound my way through the dense crowd toward my target.

He’d taken a seat at a small table and was watching the trio at the pool table mangle a simple game of spots and stripes. One of the scantily clad waitresses swooped in to deposit a drink in front of him, bending forward so far that I fully expected her ample bosoms to fall out of the low-cut bodice of her dress. She had better not be under the impression that she stood a chance with him, because I was more than willing to get into a fight tonight. A little pre-coitus bloodshed would be just a bonus.

The man tossed some credits at her, and she flounced away to take orders from another table. I found myself feeling mildly disappointed. I hadn’t been in a good fight in at least two moons. Wouldn’t hurt to get in a little practice.

Reaching my destination, I pulled out the other chair at the table and sat down beside my target. I took my time assessing him close up, letting my gaze wander from the tips of his serviceable boots and up his muscular legs to the impressive bulge at his groin. Looked like I wouldn’t have to work too hard to get what I wanted.

I took another gulp of my beer and considered the vast expanse of his chest, barely covered by the tight uniform. A unicorn tattoo on his biceps seemed incongruous with the rough attitude, and being my usual tactful self, I decided not to mention it.

Yeah, right. Me? Tactful? “So what’s with the prissy little horse?” I nodded at the tattoo. “Lose a bet or something?”

I found myself staring into the darkest eyes I’d ever encountered; pools of liquid heat. For a moment, I thought I’d blown my chance of playing ride-em cowboy with him, but then the corners of his eyes crinkled and he let out a bellow of real, straight-from-the-gut laughter. It made him look even hotter, which I hadn’t thought possible. My libido kicked into high gear,
and I could feel the liquid heat gathering at the apex of my thighs. Idly, I wondered if he’d go for the direct approach and save us both some time. I decided not to risk it.

“The prissy little horse has a certain sentimental value that I only share with close friends.” The man’s eyes swept over me with obvious interest. “Do I know you?”

I decided to play it cool and mysterious. Who knows? It worked on those old video flicks they showed on public TV. “Not yet, but the night is young.” Okay, that just sounded stupid. I smiled in what I hoped was a seductive manner. “My name is Tundra.”

A slow, sexy smile turned his face into an open invitation — one I had every intention of accepting. When he spoke, his voice had the smooth, deep inflection of a very old bottle of expensive whiskey. “That’s a very unusual name. Nice to meet you, Tundra.”

He held his hand out and I stared at it like an idiot. He wanted to shake hands? Not exactly what I’d envisioned, but hey, it was a start. I took his hand and shook it. It was big. Real big. Heat crawled up my spine as I imagined it caressing my breasts. Or sliding across my naked ass. “Nice
to meet you too…” I arched my eyebrow as it occurred to me I had no idea what his name was.

The smile widened. “Alex. But most people just call me Big Blue.”

I took a long drink, letting the silence stretch out. “Big Blue. How interesting. Referring to your uniform, I assume?”

He chuckled. “Well, that would be the Blue part.” 

“And the Big?” It took all my self-control to keep my gaze from straying to that thick bulge at his groin.

He kept eye contact, the grin on his face taking on a mischievous look as he reached for my hand and drew it slowly toward his lap. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. Under my questing fingers, that huge lump grew even bigger. Big Blue indeed! “Oh my.”

 

About the Author

Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then she has published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all with a happily ever after.

She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing guitar, singing and of course, reading.

 

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