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Azrael Teaser Tuesday

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Devil’s Boneyard MC (#13)

Romantic Suspense / MC Romance

Date to Be Published: April 25, 2025

Publisher:  Changeling Press

 

 

Sometimes, to find yourself, you have to get lost in the shadows. Are you
ready to embrace the darkness?

 

Zara: My mother vanished without a trace, and no one seems willing to help.
Except for one enigmatic figure whispered about in hushed tones: the Angel
of Death, Azrael, a guardian of justice who ensures bad men meet their fate.
I set out to find him. I didn’t count on finding him to be the sexiest man
I’d ever met, or falling for him. In his arms, I find an unexpected
sanctuary. I should be terrified of his violent world, but he offers me
safety and ignites a passion I’ve never felt before.

Azrael: I live in the shadows, doing whatever I must to protect those who
have lost all hope. It’s no place for a woman. Then I met Zara.  Her
fierce spirit and unwavering courage break down my walls. I’ll stop at
nothing to bring her mother home, even if it means I leave a trail of bodies
in my wake. For Zara, I’d do anything, even walk through hell itself. I
never wanted to fall in love… but now that I have, I’ll do anything to
keep my new family safe. I’m the monster who hunts other monsters, the one
who defends those who can’t protect themselves. Now I need to make sure that
darkness doesn’t touch those I love, or die trying.

 

Lose yourself in a world where love conquers fear, and courage fights
against the darkness.

Azrael paperback

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Harley Wylde

 

I grabbed some paper towels and wet them, wiping at the blood spatters on
my shirt. Better to have a wet shirt than one covered in red. When I was
done, I washed my hands once more then dried them. As I stared at my
reflection, I tried to see my mother in me. I’d never known my dad,
but I liked to think I didn’t have a damn thing in common with
him.

My mom been dead a long-ass time. Cancer took her slow, gave me time to say
goodbye but not enough time to become the man she’d wanted me to be.
College educated. Safe job. Family.

“Sorry, Mom,” I whispered. “Didn’t quite work out
that way.”

Instead, I’d found the Devil’s Boneyard. Or they’d found
me. Stripes had seen something in me. Potential, he called it. Cinder had
given me purpose. The club had given me family.

Would she understand? I’d like to think so. Mom had been pragmatic
about the world. “Sometimes good people have to do bad things to
protect what matters,” she’d told me once, after I’d
gotten suspended for breaking a bully’s nose. She hadn’t
approved, exactly, but she’d understood.

The men in that alley weren’t good people. They would have brought
poison into our town, destroyed lives, all for profit. I’d stopped
that. Three lives against how many I’d potentially saved?

The math made sense to me, even if it wouldn’t have to her.

I checked myself in the mirror one more time. No visible blood. Nothing to
attract attention. I ran my fingers through my hair and practiced looking
normal. Not too hard. I’d gotten good at it over the years.

Before leaving, I wiped down everything I’d touched. The
Devil’s Boneyard had friends in the police department, but certain
habits kept you alive in this business. Attention to detail. Never get
sloppy.

I unlocked the door. The attendant glanced up as I passed, his gaze moving
over me in assessment.

“You look better,” he said, voice gravelly from years of
cigarettes.

I stopped. “Better than what?”

He shrugged. “Than when you came in. Like maybe you found what you
were looking for.”

Something about his stare made me take a closer look. The tattoo peeking
out from his sleeve wasn’t just any ink. I recognized the style.
Prison work.

“Maybe I did,” I said carefully. “You work here
long?”

“Long enough to know when to mind my own business.” He tapped
his finger against the counter. “Long enough to know what kind of men
come through here needing to clean up.

I felt my muscles tense, ready for trouble. “That right?”

He nodded toward my cut. “Devil’s Boneyard. You boys do good
work. Kept my sister’s kid off the shit when the Undead Serpents were
running it through here. I respect that.”

I relaxed slightly. “Just doing what needs doing.”

“Heard there’s new players moving in. Minions or some
shit.” He spat into a cup beside the register. “Bad news, those
boys. No respect.”

“No respect,” I agreed. “And not long for this world if
they keep pushing.”

He nodded, understanding passing between us. “Good hunting,
brother.”

I pushed open the door, night air cool against my face. The town spread out
before me, lights glittering in the darkness. Most people out there had no
idea what happened in the shadows to keep them safe. They didn’t know
about men like me, or the lines we crossed so they wouldn’t have
to.

That was fine. Let them sleep easy. I’d carry the weight of what
I’d done tonight. Add it to all the rest. It wasn’t a burden
anymore — just the price of the life I’d chosen.

I started my bike and pulled onto the empty street. The compound waited,
and after that, more work to be done. The town needed cleaning, and I was
just getting started.

I rolled through the gates of the Devil’s Boneyard compound just past
midnight, the tension easing from my shoulders as I passed under the
skull-adorned archway. Home. Or the closest thing to it I’d had in
years. Floodlights illuminated the lot where dozens of bikes stood in neat
rows, chrome glinting like scattered stars. Two Prospects snapped to
attention as I pulled up.

“They’re waiting for you,” one of them said, not meeting
my eyes directly. Smart kid. He’d learn the rules fast enough — never
look too eager, never too scared. Balance was everything in this life. After
the shit we’d dealt with, we’d cracked down on the rules when
bringing in Prospects. Too many rotten apples.

“How long they been in there?” I asked.

“‘Bout an hour. Stripes came in with news from town, then
Samurai showed up. Charming’s still in his office.”

I nodded and headed for the clubhouse. The two-story building had been
renovated recently. Now it was somewhere between a fortress and
headquarters.

The heavy door opened to the sound of classic rock and the smell of
whiskey, smoke, and leather. Our main room sprawled before me, all exposed
brick and worn hardwood floors. The long bar against the far wall gleamed
with decades of polishing. Trophy pipes and old photos covered the walls,
history and legacy looking down on each new generation.

Three of my brothers played pool in the corner, their laughter cutting
through Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man” pumping from the
speakers. A couple of club girls lounged on the couches, one stretching like
a cat as I walked in. She smiled, inviting. I gave her a nod but kept
moving. Business first.

Stripes and Samurai sat at the bar, hunched over amber-filled glasses,
their heads close in conversation. Stripes spotted me first.

“The hunter returns,” he said, his Russian accent thick as
always. “Was beginning to think you’d fallen into trouble,
brother.”

I slid onto the stool beside him. “Takes more than a few Minion punks
to cause me trouble.”

The Prospect behind the bar, Harland, had a glass of Jack in front of me
before I could ask. Smart kid. I took a long swallow, the burn a welcome
friend after the night’s work.

“You find what Charming sent you for?” Samurai asked, his voice
quiet.

“Found it and handled it.” I set my glass down. “Three of
them doing a weapons exchange in the alley behind Murphy’s. High-end
stuff — Glocks, AR-15s, quality ammo. Not street-level shit. Bag is on my
bike.”

Stripes whistled low. “They’re arming for war,
then.”

About the Author

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

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

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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

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Summer Fated To Be Mine Teaser

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YA, Coming of Age, Urban, Romance

Date Published: 05-06-2025

 

 

First Love is Overrated 

This summer these two broken souls discover if your second love can make
you forget your first

 

Growing up, the Morelli brothers were close

Their kinship sinks deeper than the Titanic the summer they both fall for
the same girl. Zakiah always felt Iliana Kaplan’s heart belonged to him. All
along, it has been their story, until fate removed the blindfold.

Everything falls apart when Zakiah realizes Iliana will never give him her
whole heart. This time, the middle brother, Elijah, won’t be able to repair
the damage. A rift is torn amid all of them, and nothing will ever be the
same again.

Two years later, when love comes knocking on his door, Zakiah strays from
his motto. He can’t pretend the connection he feels with Glory Glover isn’t
real. He just can’t afford to fall victim to love again—already
learned that lesson the hard way.

Life drops the other shoe. When his dad reveals who his betrothed is,
there’s no running from what fate has in store. Can your second love make
you forget your first? Zakiah must decide if love only exists in fairytales.
No matter what choice he makes, it won’t be easy to find what’s truly his to
behold.

What happened in the spring might’ve made him forget his summertime dreams,
but reality rarely has a silver lining.

 

 

About the Author

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B. Truly has wanted to be an author since she was fifteen years old. She is
grateful to have accomplished this dream. B. Truly has very vivid dreams and
a wild imagination. She likes to read, watch tons of TV shows, and movies.
She’s addicted to romance and gets a thrill out of suspense and
sci-fi. She writes young adult, new adult, and adult romance, sci-fi,
dystopian, paranormal, and urban genres.

B. Truly likes to explore conflicted plots of romance with thrilling
twists. She also loves creating impossible situations for her characters to
grow from and try to overcome.

B. Truly has three wonderful children, and a husband who defines the person
that she is today. She works full-time as an Ultrasound technologist in
Houston, Texas.

Contact Links

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Twitter

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Preorder Today

https://mybook.to/SummerFatedToMeMine

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Knuckles Teaser Tuesday

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(Kiss of Death MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: April 18, 2025

 

 

Hannah’s stubborn, abrasive, and vicious. She’s also mine.

Hannah: My life as I knew it ended the night my boyfriend tried to rape me.
I killed the swine, and I’m not sorry. After that night, it became my
mission to rid the world of as many predators as I could. If that meant I
got slapped around a little, I’d sacrifice for the cause. What I
didn’t count on was my brother’s best friend coming to my
rescue. That dangerous vibe he’s giving off is making me feel things I
never expected. Knuckles fought for me. Protected me. Now he’s using
words like “claim” and “old lady,” but I’m not
sure I want to be anyone’s property. Not unless it means he’s my
property too.

Knuckles: I came to Afternoon Delytes to get the information I needed to
destroy a woman who’d betrayed me. I never expected to see my best
friend’s sister take a backhand to the face. She has the biggest heart
of anyone I’ve ever met. She’s also vicious. And mine.

Knuckles tablet

 

EXCERPT

Knuckles

“You tell that bitch I’m comin’ for her. She has a week
at most to make her peace.” I’d never meant a statement more in
my fucking life.

“I’m just puttin’ you in touch with her, Knuckles.
Ain’t your errand boy. You want to negotiate, you go through her
people.”

“Nothin’ to negotiate. When you confirm your job’s done,
you tell her the only thing I want from her is her fuckin’ head on a
pike.”

“You’re not gettin’ your daughter back until you talk
with her, man. She made that very clear.”

“Too bad for her I already have my daughter.”

Finally, I got a reaction out of Wild Bill. Only a raised eyebrow but way
more than the man normally showed. He wasn’t a man I trusted exactly,
but he held to a code and I respected that. “OK… That’s
news.”

“Is it.” I didn’t phrase my words as a question.

“How long have you had her?”

“Since before they managed to sell Pippa,” I snapped. “I
know Beth wants my supplier, and I know she worked for several months to
undercut me, so I was prepared for somethin’. It never occurred to me
she’d sell her own daughter for a drug deal, but it should have. I
knew years ago there was somethin’ not right with Beth. Even before
she brought Pippa to see me. I knew there was another shoe to drop but
wasn’t expectin’ her to actually sell our daughter to get even
with me.”

“Look. I got in touch with you as a favor to her. I can see I made an
error in judgment.” Yeah, Wild Bill could see how pissed I was.
“I’ll deliver your message to the bitch and go one better.
I’ll give you a heads-up before she does anythin’ else to piss
you off.”

“Now, why would you do that, Wild Bill?” I drawled out the
question as I leaned against the bar and took a sip of my coffee. Wild Bill
had met me just outside the Kiss of Death compound in Nashville. The area
we’d purchased and walled off sat in the industrial outskirts of the
city, but there were still a couple bars and a strip club in the area, which
is where we were currently. Little club called Afternoon Delytes. The music
was loud, the girls had big tits, and the alcohol wasn’t watered down.
A good place for an enemy to be distracted if he wasn’t cautious.
Which was why I liked to meet here with men I didn’t fully
trust.

“I know you think I’m amoral, but I do have a code, Knuckles. A
line I won’t cross. If what you told me is true — and your reputation
says you know your shit before you speak — that bitch obliterated my line.
I ain’t above pimpin’ out girls willin’ to split the
profits, but I don’t force women. For any reason. And I absolutely do
not traffic. Beth broke both those hard and fast rules for me. I agreed to
this in good faith with her mostly because I respect you. If it were my
daughter, I’d kill anyone who knew what was goin’ on and
didn’t tell me. But, honest to God, I thought Beth had the girl. Maybe
in a gilded cage, or maybe it was an empty threat to you and there was no
danger to your daughter at all.”

“I could be lying.”

Wild Bill shook his head. “Nope. That’s not your style.
You’ve always given it to me straight. Whether or not it’s what
I wanted to hear.” I had to admit, the man might have gone up a little
in my estimation. I’d still verify any information he shared with me
before acting on it. It might not tell the tale, but I’d be able to
better see if Wild Bill subscribed to the honor among thieves mentality, or
if it was every man for himself.

“You know where Beth is?” Even if he was lying, I wanted any
information he doled out. If it was bogus, I’d act accordingly. Which
would not end well for Wild Bill.

“Yep.” He took out an envelope. “I’ve had a guy on
her for a couple months. She’s at the same place she’s always
been at. Way too rich for a nurse’s salary.” He handed me the
envelope and I took it.

I stared at him a long time. Wild Bill held my gaze without flinching.
“Few men surprise me, so I’m going to give you this one time to
tell me your agenda. I won’t consider you an enemy and I’ll
respect your territory, but only if you come clean now.”

“No agenda, Knuckles. No repayment expected. No favors later. This is
because I agreed to help your ex without investigatin’ beyond the
surface. Knowin’ the girl was her daughter? Yeah. Wasn’t
expectin’ her to hurt her own kid.” He shook his head like he
knew he’d fucked up royally. “I don’t question things
beyond the job because the job speaks for itself, but with somethin’
like this, I should have dug a little deeper. Ain’t too proud to admit
when I’m wrong.” The corner of his lips curled up in a
self-deprecating smile. “I’d also prefer it if you didn’t
see this as a betrayal of the fragile alliance we have.”

“OK, now that I believe.” I took a sip of coffee, never taking
my eyes from Wild Bill.

“How’d you get out of a life sentence anyway?” Wild Bill
took a healthy pull of his beer before signaling the bartender for
another.

“Friends in high places.” I continued to study the other man.
“I’d’ve been out years ago except I had to help a guy
out.”

Wild Bill snorted. “Right. You went in on a triple murder the way I
heard it. That ain’t somethin’ you get out of that
easy.”

“I did confess to a triple murder. Yes.” The smile I gave him
wasn’t genuine.

Wild Bill looked like he wasn’t sure whether or not to believe me.
“Must have been some long, hard dick you sucked to get out of that
kind of rap.”

“All you need to know is it’s none of your Goddamned
business.” This was getting tiresome. “You can spread the word
to anyone you want to live that I’m back.”

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 on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

 

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

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Reclaiming Venom Teaser

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(Dixie Reapers MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, 2nd Chance Romance

Date Published: April 11, 2025

 

 

What happens when a life shrouded in memories fades away, leaving only a
faint echo of love?

 

Ridley — Life can change in an instant. For me, it was the day I got that
devastating call — my world crumbled when I found out my husband, Venom,
had been shot. He woke up, but the man I loved was a stranger. Then someone
gave me a great idea. Make him fall for me all over again! Venom might not
remember our past, but deep down, I know our connection is still
there.

Venom — I woke up in a hospital, no idea how I got there or what the hell
happened. The angel by my bed seems familiar and yet not. Then she tells me
she’s my wife. What the hell?

But as I spend time with Ridley, every story she shares awakens something
deep within me. Her laughter, her warmth… the taste of her
lips… every moment I spend with her ignites a spark that feels so
right. I may not remember our years together, but I know one thing for sure:
she’s mine.

Fall in love with the thrill of the ride, the heartache of forgotten
memories, and the fierce determination of a love that refuses to die.

WARNING: Reclaiming Venom is intended for readers 18+ due to adult
situations, bad language, and violence. While Reclaiming Venom can be read
as a standalone, we recommended you read Venom (A Dixie Reapers MC 1) and
Emergency Date (Swift Angels MC 2) first to better appreciate Reclaiming
Venom.

 

 

EXCERPT

Venom

I moved quickly, coming up behind Tinker. I couldn’t believe this
asshole was still alive. Pressing the barrel of my gun to his head, I made
sure I had his fucking attention. “Drop it. Now!”

Tinker froze, a string of curses spilling from his lips. Slowly, he turned
to face me, realization dawning in his eyes.

“You sneaky bastards,” he snarled.

Torch and Bull emerged from the shadows, their own weapons trained on
Tinker. The old man’s face contorted with rage. “This is all
your fault,” he spat at us. “You and your damned
club!”

Torch stepped forward. “Until you decided to stir up shit, we all
thought you were dead. Why now, Tinker? Why didn’t you just stay
gone?”

Tinker’s laugh was bitter. “You want to know why?”

His gaze darted to Justin, the President of the Swift Angels MC. “I
only found out about him a year ago. My own flesh and blood, a cop. I
watched. I waited. Hoped maybe he’d at least be dirty, something I
could work with.”

I got it. Sort of. I hadn’t been too pleased to find out my son,
Dawson, was not only a fireman, but also the VP of another club. I’d
hoped he’d follow in my footsteps. But now, I had to admit I was proud
of the man he’d become.

“Then I realized,” Tinker continued, a cruel smile twisting his
features, “that the Swift Angels had ties to you Dixie Reaper scum.
That’s when I knew it was time to make my move. All these decades,
waiting for a chance to get revenge, and it fell right into my
lap.”

“It’s over, Tinker. You’ve lost. Do you really think
you’ll get out of this alive? We may not have made sure you were dead
last time, but things are different now,” I said.

Tinker’s grin widened. “You sure about that,
Venom?”

Without warning, chaos erupted. Two men materialized from the shadows
behind Justin. Shit! Wire had said Tinker would be alone. Where the hell had
these men come from?

“Justin, down!” Logan yelled, but it was too late.

A deafening crack split the air. Justin’s body jerked, his blue eyes
wide with shock. Blood bloomed across his chest, a crimson stain spreading
rapidly. “Shit,” he muttered, his voice barely audible before
his knees buckled.

Logan appeared shocked at first, then the paramedic sprang into action. He
snatched the med bag he’d brought as a precaution and sprinted toward
Justin’s fallen form.

Two more shots went off, and pain hit me like a fucking freight train. I
stared at Tinker in confusion as I sank to the ground, everything going dark
around the edges of my vision. I could hear everything around me, even
though it felt like I was down a long tunnel, voices echoing.

“Logan! Hurry the fuck up!” Dawson’s frantic voice cut
through the chaos.

I felt something pooling beneath me and realized it was my own fucking
blood. The world got darker and darker, and I knew I was going under. Jesus
fucking Christ! I’d lived this damn long, and a snake like Tinker got
the drop on me?

Ridley… What the hell would she do without me? I didn’t want
to leave her. There was still so much I wanted to see and do with her.
Regret slammed into me, as I tried to recall if I’d told her I loved
her before we left.

“Diego!” Logan barked. “Keep pressure on Justin’s
wound. I need to check on Venom.”

I felt someone drop beside me, but I couldn’t make out any shapes
anymore.

“We need ambulances,” Logan shouted. “Two of them.
Now!”

I felt someone rip open my shirt and try to staunch the flow of blood, but
I knew it was too late. Nothing could save me now.

“Dad.” Dawson’s voice broke as someone knelt beside me.
Was it Dawson? “Dad, can you hear me?”

I heard Logan’s voice on the other side of me. “He’s lost
a lot of blood. We need to get him to the hospital immediately.”

Logan worked on packing my wounds. I wanted to tell him to save someone
else, that I’d finally come to the end of my journey, but I
couldn’t form the words. My body felt cold, and soon even the noises
around me faded to nothing.

Ridley… I’m so fucking sorry for leaving you. I’ll
always love you.

* * *

Ridley

I stared at my son in horror, seeing my husband’s blood all over him.
I wordlessly handed him a change of clothes and watched as he rushed off to
a bathroom. Jesus. He’d told me it was bad, but… there was so
much blood.

I looked over at Torch, and he came closer.

“What happened?” I asked. “There were so many of you. Was
Tinker really that hard to take down?”

Torch sighed and ran a hand over his beard. “He wasn’t alone.
Not Wire’s fault. Somewhere he picked up two helpers. While Venom had
his gun to Tinker’s head, the other two came out of nowhere. They shot
Justin first, and while our focus was on him, the other one shot
Venom.”

I pressed a hand to my chest, my knees feeling weak. “How bad? And
don’t fucking lie to me, Torch.”

“It’s bad, Ridley,” he murmured. “He nearly coded
in the ambulance. By some miracle, the paramedics were able to get him back.
They rushed him to surgery the minute we arrived. If it hadn’t been
for Logan, he’d have died before they even got there.”

Right when my knees gave out, someone caught me. I glanced up to see Viking
behind me. He hugged me tight before picking me up and carrying me over to a
chair. He gently eased me down, and I leaned forward, pressing my head to my
knees.

“This can’t be happening,” I whispered. “All these
years, and this happens now? He was supposed to be safer. He stepped down as
VP, and I thought, for sure, most of the danger was behind us.”

Torch took the spot beside me, and Savior sat on the other. We remained
silent, praying and hoping for good news. It felt like an eternity before
two doctors came out. One talked to the Swift Angels first about Justin, and
the other came to me. He faced me, his expression grim, and my heart
dropped.

“Venom has a long road to travel before he’s back on his feet.
He made it through surgery, but… we lost him. We were about to call
time of death, when his heart started beating again. He’s been moved
to recovery, but it’s been decided it would be best to place him in a
coma to help with the healing process.”

“What…” I licked my lips. “What does that
mean?”

“He’s going to sleep until his body is mostly repaired. Then
we’ll see if we can get him awake again.”

“What do you mean you’ll see?” Panic welled inside me.
“He has to wake up!”

The doctor nodded. “I understand how you feel, but his
situation… it’s not the best. For a man his age, well.
There’s a lot of trauma to his body. There’s no way of telling
when he’ll wake up.”

“Or if, right?” I asked, giving a bitter laugh.
“You’re telling me he’s alive, but I may never get the
chance to talk to him again? To see his eyes open, or hear him laugh? What
the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

I heard my voice rising but couldn’t stop it. Tears streaked my
cheek, and I felt the hysteria welling inside me. Then my son was there.
Dawson wrapped me in his arms, and I sobbed against his chest while he spoke
with the doctor.

Venom. You better come back to me! I can’t live without you.

 

About the Author

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

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

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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

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Warrior Queen Teaser Tuesday

 

Warrior Queen banner

Warrior Queen cover

LGBTQ+ Steampunk Romance

Date Published: April 4, 2025

 

 

A volatile cauldron of magic, love, and the empire may be on the edge of a
precipice, but witches, humans, and automatons indulge in pleasures of the
flesh.

 

Victoria has been dubbed by her adoring public as their Warrior Queen.
Destroying her Continental enemies is nothing to the challenge she faces
now. For years, the Lunarians, goblins from the moon, led by the powerful
witch Mon Ilson, have been murdering humans and stealing the bodies for his
followers to “adopt.”

Beautiful witch Selena Whiteheart, Mon Ilson’s human agent on Earth,
is closely watched by Home Office Agent Harry Kincaid, whose loyalty to the
Queen suppresses his ability to show Selena his true feelings. Spiritualist
Miss Cordelia Warrington has been exploring the carnal attributes and
mechanical stamina of Adam, her automaton butler. Now Selena needs
Cordelia’s help, and allows herself to be entertained by the amorous
pair in a steamy ménage à trois.

Meanwhile, Agent of the Queen Rachel Clayton is instantly attracted to the
hauntingly handsome Major Guy Tremayne, hero of the Coronation Island
disaster. Can he be trusted? She throws all caution to the wind to find out.
At a crucial moment the Queen is cruelly betrayed and threatened with
assassination. Selena, Rachel, and Victoria all face difficult choices as
love and lust compete with their duty to the Empire.

 

Author’s Note: Enjoy Warrior Queen as a standalone tale or as part of
a continuing narrative.

 

 

EXCERPT

 

Thwack!

Thwack!

The sound of two cane sticks striking each other reminded me of how a scant
two hours ago the Home Secretary had slapped my posterior as he ravaged me.
Pressed for time he’d unceremoniously bent me over his Whitehall desk,
pulled down my culottes and drawers, grabbed my shoulders for leverage, and
drove his prodigious erection into me with frightful force. A few minutes
later he flooded my quivering cunt with his lava hot seed. It had been a
perfunctory fuck, short and sharp, and my climax perversely
satisfying.

My cunny still retained a fair quantity of his ejaculation, and I shifted
in my seat contriving to put pressure on my fleshy nether lips to keep it
from escaping. My apparently not-so-subtle contortions did not escape the
notice of the fine-looking man sitting opposite me. I’d quite
forgotten about him as I relived the morning’s carnal adventure. He
cleared his throat which brought me back to the here and now.

I was sitting in a Buckingham Palace anteroom, and I felt my cheeks warm
under the scrutiny of this ruggedly handsome and smartly uniformed officer.
When I’d first arrived, he’d introduced himself as Guy Tremayne.
He was in fact the famous Major of the Southern Royal Air Corps who’d
distinguished himself by leading the survivors of an airship crash on
Coronation Island, a frozen rock midway between Tierra Del Fuego and
Antarctica. Their inspirational struggle for survival on the barren island
was a true Boys Own Adventure. I’d read his file during my recent
convalescence and believed Major Tremayne to be a brave and resourceful
officer, respected by his men and superiors alike.

He had given me an elegant bow, took my proffered hand, and lightly brushed
his lips against my knuckles. To say I was instantly attracted would be an
understatement. He was the epitome of masculinity: well over six feet tall,
slim, and long legged. His hips were narrow, his chest deep, and his
shoulders broad. His sharply chiselled face was suntanned, and above a thin
black moustache his nose was pleasantly symmetrical. The palest of blue eyes
gave his countenance a strikingly mysterious and yet desirable aspect.

My cunny throbbed.

He was sitting as if he was on parade with his back straight as a board.
He’d started his career in the cavalry, and I couldn’t help but
imagine him in the saddle riding into battle, his sabre held high, its razor
edge glinting in the sun. He’d actually seen combat, and his curly
hair disguised the missing left ear, lost during a bloody skirmish in the
Punjab.

Thwack! Thwack!

“Do you singlestick?” I asked him, my mouth dry, and my voice
husky.

Thwack! Thwack!

The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. “Indeed, I do. The
sabre is my weapon of choice.”

Singlestick fighting had been a feature of English martial life for
centuries and cavalry men used it for practicing sabre strokes from
horseback. Though the sport had become highly regimented, it required fast
reflexes and strict discipline. I found it useful for developing forearm and
wrist strength.

Thwack! Thwack!

“Perhaps we should have a bout?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Thwack! Thwack!

My cunt throbbed lustily, and inside my blouse, my nipples ached. I licked
my bottom lip, slowly. “Are you residing in London?”

He threw up his hands. “Alas. I exist at the whim of the War
Department.”

Thwack! Thwack!

“Then we should arrange a time soon.”

“I believe I am free tomorrow evening.”

“As it happens, so am I.”

Thwack! Thwack!

We’d just concluded arrangements to meet at a restaurant in Chelsea
when the door to the anteroom opened, and a footman showed in a slim,
elegantly dressed woman. She was about forty years of age, with an
attractive oval face and perfect complexion accentuated by challenging hazel
eyes and provocatively painted red lips. Her luxurious auburn hair was
coiled expertly around her head in such a way that suggested considerable
length. The bulk was held in place with gem-tipped pins which glinted in the
harsh electric light. I imagined her standing naked, her hair cascading over
her ample breasts, reaching and discreetly hiding her mound of Venus. I
recognised her as the wife of a member of the House of Lords, and this
sensual impression I’d constructed was at odds with her reputation.
She was known as a straitlaced prude, active in charitable institutions and
a fierce and passionate advocate for women’s suffrage. On one occasion
she’d been seen at a rally striking a constable with a placard after
she accused him of taking undisclosed liberties.

I curtsied. “Lady Fogerty, I’m Rachel Clayton.”

 

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

Author on Twitter

 

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

 

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