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Heart of a Hero Teaser Tuesday

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Swift Angels MC (#1)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Firefighters, Slow Burn

Date Published: December 20, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

 

The unexpected twists and turns in life often lead to the most beautiful
surprises.

 

Nora: If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that life
never goes according to plan. But having my apartment burn down was
certainly not on my to-do list. Being trapped with my daughter, the flames
drawing closer, was the most terrifying thing I’d ever experienced.
Until the sexiest firefighter I’ve ever seen came swinging through my
window and saved us.

I should have known our heroic rescuer wouldn’t just sit back and do
nothing when he heard we had nowhere else to go. So now we’re staying
with him, and the more I learn about Dawson Kane, the harder I start to fall
for him. But what if he breaks my heart just like all the others?

Dawson: Growing up as the son of a Dixie Reaper, I’ve seen so many
couples come together, having fallen in love at first sight. Never thought
it would happen to me. Now that it has, I’m going to hold onto Nora
and her daughter Taylor with everything I have. Even finding out she’s
three months pregnant isn’t enough to scare me off. Her ex causing
trouble doesn’t either. I’m going to prove to her she’s
worth fighting for.

Now I just have to confess to my dad that I not only helped start my own
motorcycle club, but I’m the VP. The holidays are supposed to be the
time for miracles, and I’m going to need several! One to ensure my dad
doesn’t kill me when he finds out what I’ve been hiding from
him, another to make Nora stay with me forever, and the last one to get rid
of her psycho ex once and for all.

 

Uncover a tale of love that defies the odds in “Heart of a
Hero,” perfect for fans of romance with a touch of danger.

 

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Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Harley Wylde

 

Dawson

The alarm blared through the station, jolting me into action.
“Apartment fire on 5th and Maple!” someone shouted. My heart
pounded as I threw on my bunker gear, the heavy coat and pants weighing me
down but also steeling my resolve. I joined my team as we raced to the fire
truck, sirens already wailing.

As we sped through the city streets, I tried to calm my nerves and focus.
Flames. Smoke. People trapped. This is what I trained for. What I lived
for.

We screeched to a halt outside the burning apartment building, flames
licking out the windows and thick black smoke billowing into the sky. My
eyes watered from the acrid stench as I leaped out and assessed the inferno
before me. It was worse than I thought. The fire had engulfed the entire
building, all the way to the top floors, orange tongues of flame bursting
through some of the top floor windows.

The captain walked off to assess the situation and I stared at the building
in horror. Evan came up beside me letting out a long whistle. “Damn.
Think someone’s Christmas lights caused this?”

I shrugged. This time of year, anything was possible. “Wouldn’t
be the first time.”

Cap came back and gave us our orders, and the crew got to work dousing the
building. Another fire station responded, and soon we had two hoses trying
to tame the flames. I wasn’t sure it was going to be enough.

Captain Briggs came over a few minutes later, his face grim. He pointed up,
and I followed to a window on the top floor. “Dawson, we got a woman
trapped on the eighth floor.”

My blood ran cold. “I’ll get her, Cap. Just get the ladder
truck in place and –”

“No can do.” Briggs shook his head firmly. “The
fire’s too intense. The building’s not stable, and the flames
will weaken the ladder. No way to reach her.”

“Cap, we can’t just leave her!” I clenched my fists, my
mind racing for a solution.

“Nothing we can do, son.” Briggs put a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes, we lose people. You know this already.
It’s part of the job.”

I shrugged him off, still staring at the raging flames. Like hell was I
giving up on her. Not while there was still a chance. I scanned the adjacent
building, an idea starting to form. It was risky as all get-out but it just
might work.

The roar of the inferno faded as determination flooded through me. I knew
what I had to do. I turned to Briggs, my voice low and urgent.

“I’ve got a plan, Cap. Trust me.”

Briggs narrowed his eyes at me, suspicion etched on his face. “What
are you thinking, Dawson?”

I pointed to the adjacent building. “I can get to the roof from
there, rappel down to her window, and bring her back up.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Briggs barked, his face turning
red. “That’s suicide! I order you to keep your ass on the
ground, Kane.”

But I was already moving, sprinting toward the neighboring building. Briggs
shouted after me, but his words were lost in the chaos. I knew he was just
trying to protect me, but I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Not when
a life hung in the balance.

I burst through the door of the adjacent building, my heart pounding in my
chest. The stairwell stretched before me, a daunting climb to the top. But I
didn’t hesitate, taking the steps two at a time, my bunker gear
weighing me down.

Sweat poured down my face, my lungs burning with each breath. But I pushed
through the pain, focusing on the task at hand. I had to reach the roof. I
had to save her.

I reached the top floor, slamming through the door to the roof. The cool
night air hit my face, a stark contrast to the heat of the stairwell. I
rushed to the edge, my eyes scanning the burning building before me.

There, on the eighth floor, a window illuminated by the dancing flames. A
woman leaned out the window, screaming for help. A little girl clung to her.
My heart clenched at the sight.

I knew I didn’t have much time. The building could go at any
moment.

I stepped back from the edge, my mind racing. The gap between the buildings
was wide, the flames licking at the sides of the apartment complex. One
wrong move, and it was all over.

But I couldn’t let fear take hold. This was what I was meant to do.
Even if this next shift was my last, it didn’t matter. Every life I
saved made it all worthwhile.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. The heat of the fire was palpable
even from this distance. I forced myself to focus, to draw on every ounce of
training and experience I had.

“You can do this, Dawson,” I whispered to myself, my voice
barely audible over the roar of the flames. “You were born for
this.”

I opened my eyes, my gaze locked on the window across the way. The woman
and child were still there, the woman’s movements growing more
desperate by the second.

My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I knew
what I had to do.

I took a step back, my muscles coiled like a spring. The weight of my gear
seemed to fall away, my mind crystal clear. I could almost feel the presence
of my team below, their silent support giving me strength. Except the
captain, who looked ready to murder me for defying his orders.

“Hang on,” I whispered, as if the woman could hear me.
“I’m coming.”

And with that, I took a running start, my feet pounding against the
rooftop. The edge rushed toward me, the gap between the buildings yawning
wide.

But I didn’t hesitate. I pushed off with all my might, my body arcing
through the air. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the world falling
away beneath me.

And then I was flying; the wind whipped past my face, and the flames
reached up to meet me. My heart was in my throat, and my pulse pounded in my
ears.

I didn’t look down. I kept my eyes on the prize, on the window
growing larger with each passing second. I could see the woman’s face
now, her features etched with fear and desperation.

I braced myself for impact, my body tensing as I prepared to land. The heat
of the fire was overwhelming, and if it hadn’t been for my gear, I
knew the smoke would have choked my lungs.

I landed on the opposite rooftop, rolling with the impact. One of my
firefighter brothers was on the rooftop behind me, the one I’d just
vacated. He held up a coil of rope and I nodded. I’d been so focused
on reaching the woman and kid, I hadn’t even thought to grab anything.
I’d have figured it out once I got there.

Evan ran toward the ledge, much like I had to just done, then he was
airborne. He landed a little more gracefully than I had, then found a place
to tie off the rope.

“I’m going to rappel down to the window,” I said.

Evan looked around. “Better hurry. This building isn’t going to
stand much longer, and the flames will probably eat through the rope pretty
quick.”

I nodded and braced my feet on the ledge of the building, my hand gripping
the rope. It seemed to be holding, so I started my descent. The window came
into view, and I swung through the opening.

The woman and her daughter were huddled in the corner, their faces streaked
with soot and tears. The fire had already eaten through their door and was
fast approaching.

“It’s okay,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m
here to help.”

And as I gathered the little girl in my arms, then secured her to my back,
I knew this was my calling… the one thing I was meant to do. I used
the rope to climb back to the rooftop and handed the little girl off to
Evan.

“Where’s the woman?” he asked.

“I’m going back for her. Get the girl out of here.”

Evan shook his head. “Not leaving you behind.”

I didn’t argue with him. Didn’t have the time to do so. I went
back down and through the window again, this time getting the woman out of
the burning building. The flames had already traveled across the carpeted
floor and I knew even a second later, they’d have been blistering her
skin. As it was, she might very well have burns from the heat.

The flames licked at us as I shielded the woman with my body. I went back
up the rope, and as I looked up, I saw Evan’s frantic expression.
That’s when I noticed the fire already trying to eat through the rope.
It wasn’t going to hold. Making a drastic decision, I climbed faster,
and when I thought I was close enough, I grabbed the woman’s
arm.

“I need you to let go,” I shouted over the raging fire.

She shook her head. “No.”

“I’m going to toss you up to him. This rope is about to burn
through.”

Her eyes widened, and her grip loosened enough for me to put my plan into
action. I wrapped the rope around my leg and used my other to secure my
hold. Keeping one hand on the top of the rope, I swung the woman up toward
Evan.

He leaned over the rooftop, his fingers grasping at her hand. Once
he’d grabbed hold, I let go of her. I watched as he pulled her onto
the rooftop, and then I looked at where the flames were eating through the
rope already.

Time was up.

I kicked the rope free of my feet, holding it in both hands now. Then I
walked sideways to my left a few steps. Calculating the distance between my
current location and the nearest window at the next building, I decided it
was now or never. I ran, my feet pushing against the building until I
reached the end, and then I was soaring through the air. The building was
within reach, when the rope snapped.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I heard a roaring in my ears, as I
started to fall. Thanks to my momentum and mass, I had just enough of an
arced trajectory that I managed to grab hold of a windowsill on my way down.
My shoulder screamed at me, and I grabbed hold of the bricks with my other
hand.

Just as my grip was starting to slip, the window jerked up and another
firefighter looked down at me.

“You going to hang out all day, or come inside?” He
smirked.

“Fuck you. Get me the hell inside the building.”

He helped me over the windowsill and into what appeared to be
someone’s bedroom. “We vacated this building and the one on the
other side of the inferno. Not taking chances of a spark
catching.”

“Good. Now let’s get down to the ground so the captain can chew
my ass out.”

He snorted. “Damn right he will!”

In the stairway, I spotted Evan with the woman and child. Their faces were
streaked with soot, but at least they were alive. I straightened, the weight
of what we’d just accomplished hitting me like a ton of bricks.
Everyone else had given up on them. If I hadn’t ignored the captain,
these two would be dead right 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 on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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

 

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Trust is Sacred Teaser Tuesday

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(Medically Necessary 3)

 

LGBTQ, Dark Fantasy, Steamy

Date Published: December 13, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

Without trust, nothing is sacred. Not even long-held beliefs.

Oliver’s terrible secret is eating both himself and his would-be mate
alive. He and Amir have been apart for three months, and absence indeed
makes the heart grow fonder. Unfortunately, there’s terror, pain, and
deceit lying between them.

Amir thinks purging and confession are medically necessary for spiritual
and physical well-being. Oliver will stop at almost nothing to hide his
scars.

Can these two be mated in truth or will Oliver’s past and
Amir’s unstated fears push them away before the werewolves’ most
sacred holiday, Winter Solstice?

 

 

Trust is Sacred paperback

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Emily Carrington

 

August

 

In a very real sense, Oliver’s heart hadn’t ached this way in
years. It was a mixture of longing and a sweet promise of eventual
homecoming. He’d just sent his lover away on an airplane, back to New
York. Amir would gather together his staff, choose a new doctor to take over
his practice, and then be back down here to live with Oliver.

To become Oliver’s mate.

Werewolves didn’t have spouses. Except when they did. They also
didn’t have Life Dancers. That was a psychic vampire thing, knowledge
Oliver had gained over the last month. Wolves had mates, a name for their
beloved, the person with whom they wanted to spend the rest of their
lives.

He’d had a mate before. This time would be different. He’d
protect his mate. He’d keep him safe, no matter the cost, and he
wouldn’t allow his nightmares to drive them apart. To shove his lover
toward the singular choice of suicide.

He pulled up in front of Llosgia Maxine’s house, where his heart told
him he belonged. Granted, she hadn’t exactly accepted her title of
alpha, or the duties commensurate with that status change. She would,
though. He had faith. Well, mostly he had faith. Sometimes he worried that
Tilthos Charles’s words would come true and Llosgia Maxine would
choose to take up no title at all.

Except, of course, she’d already claimed Director of Werewolf Watch
for herself. Maybe she couldn’t take on that responsibility
and…

The front door opened and Tilthos Charles stepped out, looking even
stronger than he had the night before, when he’d arrived at Llosgia
Maxine’s and asked for a place for himself and his lover to sleep.
Now, in the dimness of false dawn, the alpha above all alphas
shouldn’t have been able to use his limited vision to see more than a
car approaching. However, that didn’t seem to be the case because he
smiled and waved as if he knew exactly who was arriving.

Oliver considered driving away. He didn’t want to hear the political
answer as to why the Kreisha pack was still allowed to exist after all the
shit three of its members had pulled. Geoffrey Huntington, Noah Travers, and
Josiah Cobb had plotted to drive Tilthos Charles mad. They had made it so
hearing his rightful title had caused him physical and psychic pain.
They’d forced him to attack his lover, Luis. Now, though, surely
Tilthos Charles was coming to tell him they’d been forgiven for some
fucked-up political reason that boiled down to the alpha above all
alphas… what? Didn’t want to kill? That might just be it.

The alpha above all alphas’ soft voice was in his head suddenly. Open
the door, Oliver.

Oliver unlocked the doors. He waited for the alpha above all alphas to sit
beside him, or order him to get out of the car, denying him his
escape.

He acknowledged his expectations had no basis in reality, especially
because everything he’d seen of Tilthos Charles when the leader was in
his right mind was favorable. Still, he didn’t actually know how
Tilthos Charles governed. He was only assuming, based on the one alpha he
knew, that Tilthos Charles might have allowed power to go to his head.

“So uncharitable,” the alpha above all alphas said after
opening the door. He sat in the passenger seat, folded his white cane, the
symbol of his visual impairment, and then buckled himself in. “Feel
free to drive if it will make you less edgy.”

“You’re reading my every thought?” Oliver asked.
He’d assumed his shields were better than that.

“Not quite. You’re not projecting everything, I don’t
think, but you’re very unhappy with me and that carries just
fine.”

Oliver relocked the doors and pulled out of the driveway. “Where are
we going?”

“Somewhere that you can drive and listen without getting us in an
accident would be good.”

Oliver grunted.

To his amazement, the leader of most of the world’s werewolves on
this side of the Atlantic laughed. “You sound like Luis when
he’s unhappy. Please tell me what’s bothering you.”

Oliver couldn’t bring himself to accuse the alpha above all alphas of
any wrongdoing. Instead, he asked, “What happened to the six wolves
who attacked you?”

“Huntington, Travers, and Cobb have been placed with different packs,
separated by quite a bit of geography. Their new alphas reassure me their
movements will be closely observed.”

Oliver turned off Llosgia Maxine’s street and just headed south, away
from Washington, DC. He knew he wouldn’t be able to drive in heavy
traffic and listen. “Why are they still alive?”

“I’m not in the habit of killing every single wolf who’s
tried a coup. There would be considerably fewer wolves in the world if I
exacted that sort of revenge. They’re being watched by three alphas I
trust implicitly and I’m sure these bastards will show their true
colors again. And unlike in baseball, they only get two chances.” He
turned his head away from Oliver. “They’re not the only ones
I’m watching. Kreisha Alexander let this go on right under his nose.
At best, the very best, that makes him not perceptive enough.”

He faced Oliver again. “I’m asking you to keep me informed if
he does anything inappropriate, dangerous, or careless. I don’t order
you because I don’t want to step on your agency that way.”

“Please order me,” Oliver blurted.

That got him a raised eyebrow.

“Kreisha Alexander is in the habit of ordering his wolves not to
share things, good or bad, outside the pack. If I have your order first, and
because you outrank him, I’ll be able to tattletale.” He
grimaced. “That came out more bitter than I anticipated or meant.
I’m sorry.”

Tilthos Charles seemed to have caught onto another part of his speech,
however, because he said, “Is there anything you’re forbidden to
share with me?” There was a growl in his voice.

 

About the Author

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

Contact Links

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

 

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

 

 

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Max’s Christmas Bunny Teaser Tuesday

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Billionaire Daddy Doms — Bunny (#1)

 

Erotica / BDSM

Date Published: November 29, 2024

 

 

I never thought Bunny ears and a Bunny tail butt plug would be the start of
a grand adventure.

It’s Christmas, and money’s tight, so I asked the agency for a
new assignment. Still, I didn’t expect to wind up in a gilded Bunny
cage in the home of an eccentric billionaire. While I’ve never met
Daddy Jacob, he knows me — he owns the Agency that sent me out on this
assignment. Now I’m to serve as a Christmas present for a man in his
household — a Christmas present for Max.

I’m not certain how the rest of the week will go, but so far it feels
like Max may just be the perfect Master for me. I have the feeling this
assignment could be the start of the biggest adventure of my life.

 

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Wanda Violet O.

 

Christmas has never been my favorite holiday. Having said that, the job
that had just fallen into my lap — to be a Christmas Bunny for some rich
guy with a pet-play kink — was the best Christmas present ever. The money
was nearly obscene, the anticipation of adventure intense.

This job included the possibility of kinky sex. I had been given the
standard safe word and signed a contract outlining my limits, both hard and
soft. Was it the safest thing I’d ever done? Not in the least. But,
again, the money was good — really, really good. If I was ever going to get
out from under the mountain of medical bills I’d been left with after
the crash that had put me in the hospital for a month and killed my mom, I
had to get drastic.

Now I found myself was sitting on a huge, plush, overstuffed red beanbag in
a very large cage, wearing a headband with bunny ears and a butt plug with a
fluffy bunny tail. The cage had a big red bow wrapped around the middle, and
it sat under a massive Christmas tree covered with sparkling, colored
lights. I had several red and green fleece blankets and soft pillows in the
cage so I was comfortable, but the room was warm to me even though I was
naked.

It was early morning and once I’d readied myself, before I got into
the cage, I’d been told it would be an hour before I’d be
needed. I’d been given an alarm to press if I needed help before the
client came for me, or if I felt threatened. Standard for this type of job
with the agency. It was run by the ultra-wealthy and catered to the
obscenely wealthy. I’d been skeptical when I’d first started,
but the agency had never failed to keep me safe.

None of that meant I wasn’t a bundle of nerves, and getting more
nervous the longer I waited.

Just as I was getting ready to hit the panic button, I heard footsteps
coming. A man wearing black silk pajama pants and nothing else stalked down
the stairs. He had long, shaggy hair, and a heavily muscled, sculpted body,
reminding me of a predator moving through the jungle.

This man was classically handsome, with a strong jaw, straight nose, and
piercing blue eyes. His cheeks were wide and masculine with dark stubble
where he hadn’t yet shaved.

When he turned his head, his gaze landed on me and his movements stopped.
He stared at me for a long time, not moving a muscle except to breathe. When
he finally started moving again, he was focused squarely, intently on me.
“I sincerely hope you’re my Christmas present, little
Bunny.”

I knew better than to speak unless I had permission. It had been drilled
into me from the second I’d been accepted to the program. The clients
the agency served had specific tastes. They tried to match us to clients
with similar tastes, but there was always a learning curve if I were staying
more than a few hours. This job was supposed to last a week and could
seriously bail me out, but I had to follow the rules precisely if I wanted
to get the big payday.

The man knelt in front of my cage to get a better look at me. Those
ice-blue eyes of his seemed to caress me as his gaze roamed over my body.
“Be a good little Bunny. Turn around and present yourself. Stick that
ass up in the air so I can have a look at you.”

I did as I was told without hesitation, presenting myself with my legs
apart, ass in the air, and my chest on the floor. I knew what I looked like
because I’d admired the plush, fluffy rabbit tail butt plug before
getting in the cage.

“Hmm, you are quite the gift, aren’t you?” he said, his
voice a low growl. “Who were you sent for, little Bunny?”

“I’m not sure, Sir. Only that I was to stay in the cage and
await the Master’s pleasure.”

“Ah, Max!” the deep voice called from across the room.

I wanted to turn my head and look behind me but didn’t dare.

“I see you’ve found your present.”

“Daddy Jacob.” Max’s tone was subservient but in a
different way than I’d ever heard before. The man was clearly a
Dominant, but differed to this new man? “She’s
mine?”

“If things work out and she agrees, yes. She’s yours. A gift
from me and Kitten.”

I couldn’t help but shiver at the implication. It was an unusual
sensation between fear and… interest? OK, that was disconcerting. I
didn’t know this man and there was apparently at least one more person
here.

I’m not sure what I expected, but there was a long pause and what Max
said next both hurt and confused me. “Have I done something wrong,
Daddy Jacob?” Where before there was amused interest and a healthy
dose of lust in Max’s voice and his eyes when he’d first looked
at me, now it was devoid of emotion.

“Max…” There was a note of censure between them, as if
Daddy Jacob wasn’t happy with Max.

“But Kitten –”

“Kitten knows you need a pet of your own. She loves you as much as
you love her and Andromeda. So do I.”

This seemed like a private conversation and I felt horribly out of place. I
turned my face to the wall next to where my cage sat and stayed perfectly
still.

There was silence while I heard someone unlocking the cage. The door slid
open with a small squeak. “Come out, little one.”

I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I knew without looking at him I
didn’t want to disobey or ignore Daddy Jacob. Keeping my gaze lowered
and my hands clasped in front of me, I scrambled to do as he’d
ordered.

“Kneel and present yourself, sweet Bunny.”

 

About the Author

Welcome to Wanda Violet O.’s world of bedtime fantasy, where you’ll find a
variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in
extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play… she’s got it all. Come take a look
for yourself!

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today

 

 

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Pilgrimage Through the Storm Teaser Tuesday

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Poetry / Prayer

Date Published: Nov 20, 2024

Publisher:  Serapis Bey Publishing

 

“One does not become enlightened by imagining oneself as a figure of
light but by making the darkness conscious.”
 

Carl Jung (1875 – 1961)

 

A deeper level of consciousness can only be birthed from a space of
darkness, the void of all possibility, as all of life has arisen from
nothingness. Such is the paradox of awakening. When you find yourself held
in suspension, and when you are catapulted out of everything you know to be
true, it is easy to forget the truth of who you really are.

However, no matter the outer experiences, your innermost essence is
unchangeable.

A sense of isolation and separation are undoubtedly facets of the dark
night, but in reality you are never alone. Many people have walked this path
before you, there are those who are currently engulfed in its midst and
those who will follow.

The pieces in this book landed as my own journey through the wilderness.
Each fragment is a lived experience, and each lived experience is a
mentor.

I offer you these words as your companion while you transition through your
own inner shadows…may they provide comfort as you move through the
deepest levels of release and find your way home, to a self-compassion you
never knew existed. 

 

EXCERPT

Introduction: The Womb

My eyes open with an unanticipated suddenness. I awaken with a fortress of pillows around me. Safe and secure in the silent darkness. There is a drop in my stomach, I remember. The self-created sanctuary of the womb a thing of the past. A dream shattered to pieces. The plug is out of the socket. I am switched off, absent from myself. Vanished, without a trace.

 Did I ever exist? A deep detachment, an incongruence. A profound disharmony between the world inside me and the world around me. My skin is ripping at the seams, something inside me is desperate to get out. How will I lay this demon to rest? Feelings of fear grip my body and hold me hostage. Enveloped in a state of temporary paralysis; I am caged. The new day brings a promise of endless possibilities. I decide to return the gift unopened. Today’s forecast; winds of despondency. 

The womb beckons me – again – but it is time to face another day. There are things that need to be addressed. Things which have to be done, no matter what my circumstance. Sunrise, an order that must be obeyed. The mundane rituals bear the load of climbing a mountain. I wonder, is the thought of doing something more of a burden than actually doing it? And yet, these daily undertakings throw me a life ring; prevent me from drowning. These banal everyday responsibilities; the key to my sanity. The ‘humanness’ of my situation, both a blessing and a curse. 

As I make a cup of tea, my eyes blankly rest on the world beyond the window. The barren trees and haunting, lonely skies are in commune with my reality. Autumn has come and gone with not so much as a whisper. The jewelled colours now faded leave me with a hollow heart. I am smothered in hues of grey, inhabiting this spartan landscape of gloom. Even the bitter chill that seeps into my bones does not wake me from this century old slumber. Yes, autumn has abandoned me with not so much as a goodbye. I have abandoned myself, with not so much as a goodbye. A subliminal sadness only magnified by the disappearance of the sun. Like a hamster in a cage, in a nomadic frenzy, I senselessly move from one thing to the next, leaving behind a trail of unfinished tasks. And then I pause, frozen, the all too familiar feeling of worry swoops in unannounced and bullies me into submission. A crippling vacuum shadows me all day. It seems the entire world is going about their business and I am forced to remain stationary. I stand with my open wound; reticent in its nature. 

Yes, I exist, but in name only; I am not living. I switch on the television, hoping the images on the screen will somehow reconnect me. But to no avail. The sounds that filter through the radio have the same effect. I remain, quite simply, totally disconnected. 

What gave me pleasure, is now reduced to nothing but a chore. What I looked forward to, now makes me want to hide in a box. However, I continue to put one foot in front of the other. I will get through today; as I did yesterday. Dawn will keep its promise tomorrow and arise as it always does. Perhaps, this is what my Beloved calls, unconditional love.

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Beneath the Skin Teaser Tuesday

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Beneath the Skin cover

(Empire of the Sky 5)

 

Steampunk Romance

Date Published: 11/29/24

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

Soulmates? Or simply lovers? Selena and Nancy hope their paramours can see
beneath the skin.

 

Selena Whiteheart has her hands full. The malignant witch, Lady Neva, has
kidnapped her lovers, Jacob McCleary and Captain Kit Colby. While keeping
her Home Office handler, Harry Kincaid, satisfied in every way, Selena vows
to rescue them, but first she must contend with a mesmerised assassin.

Meanwhile Nancy Lea, envoy in human form of the goblin king, Mon Ilson,
Emperor of Space, has failed in her bid to secure peace. Queen Victoria has
sent her packing with a flea in her ear. With her lover and protector,
Captain Jaimee Dalgliesh, she returns to the moon to report. With three days
to kill, Nancy teaches Jaimee the joys of weightless lovemaking. However,
Jaimee comes face to face with a real goblin. Can he overcome his visceral
disgust and love the soul beneath Nancy’s stolen skin?

The soul of Agent Felicity Cressy, murdered by Lady Neva, finds a safe
haven in Nancy’s mind. Will Mon Ilson return her to her body, and what does
he expect in return?

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Mikala Ash

 

Selena Whiteheart

1867 — A Vixen in the Mist

 

I am a duplicitous witch.

Like Janus, the mythological god of beginnings and endings, I present
different faces to the world. I began as Marjorie Fletcher, a naïve
country virgin murdered for my body by hideous goblins. My homeless soul
found refuge in the mind of Cressida Troy, with whom I fell in love.
Inevitably I also lost my heart to her fiancé, Jacob McCleary, and I
experienced lovemaking for the first time through Cressida. Now, as Selena
Whiteheart, human agent of Mon Ilson, the goblin king and self-styled
Emperor of Space, and owner of the empire’s greatest airborne gambling
and bawdy house, I love the handsome and brave Captain Kit Colby.

I stood at my fireplace staring at the likenesses of Jacob and Kit inside a
gold locket. I’d drawn both myself, and think I captured their
essential differences rather well. Jacob, the former schoolteacher, whose
intelligent gaze signified his thoughtful and considerate nature both in and
out of bed, had given me my first experience of lovemaking, albeit
vicariously. He was now estranged from Cressida Troy after the murder of
Fleur Cumberland, which I had orchestrated. Kit, on the other hand, was a
lusty warrior, a decorated hero of the savage air war against Prussia and
the Hungarian Empire. As befitting his martial nature, Kit was both forceful
and deliberate in his lovemaking.

I was lost for a few moments in a warm memory of passionate kisses,
entwined tongues, probing fingers and hard, thrusting cocks before a wave of
fear coursed through me. Tears threatened to flow as I traced their
images.

I was not alone in my office. I was dimly aware of the earnest little man
jabbering about an invention of his. I didn’t care about Mr. Frasier.
I was immersed in a sea of despair, and the peril my charade placed not just
Jacob and Kit in, but me also.

Both Jacob and Kit were captives of Lady Neva Talbot-Rhys, a powerful witch
hell-bent on killing Queen Victoria. Lady Neva held the Queen responsible
for her lover’s death during England’s devastating military
reprisal against Prussia. I understood her wanting revenge. I felt the same
about her.

I had to get them back. Lady Neva was a merciless malevolent maniac,
capable of wholesale slaughter — I’d witnessed that firsthand. My
heart chilled at the thought of what horrors Jacob and Kit were suffering at
her evil hands.

I wanted desperately to believe they still lived. Why else would Lady Neva
kidnap them but to use them for some nefarious purpose?

Jacob had been sent by Mon Ilson to add weight to his envoy Nancy
Lea’s mission to arrange a demonstration of his ultimate weapon. Lady
Neva had stumbled upon Jacob during her search for Kit, and being a skilled
mind reader, she would have instantly known Jacob’s value. That would
have been a surprise to her, no doubt. But she was not one to miss an
opportunity to cause the Queen even greater problems. She had intended to
kidnap Nancy Lea as well, but fortunately she had escaped. I believed Lady
Neva had probably gone to Europe to sell Jacob’s knowledge to one of
Britain’s host of enemies. If that was the case, then Mon
Ilson’s carefully laid plans could be wrecked and chaos would ensue,
resulting in the deaths of millions. Frustratingly, our overseas agents had
not detected any sign of Lady Neva. She had disappeared like a vixen in the
mist.

I shuddered and took in a ragged breath of despair at what she would do to
Kit. Unlike Jacob, who had political value, poor Kit she could torture at
her leisure. Kit had become the object of her revenge after thwarting her
plan to use the Prince of Wales to kill the Queen.

For the time being, as Selena Whiteheart, I do the bidding of the goblin
king, the most powerful witch in history. For the moment our goals aligned.
He too wanted Lady Neva found, for her determination to kill Queen Victoria
threatened to derail his own plans of conquest.

My service to Mon Ilson requires a significant amount of time and energy,
for I must hide my true intentions from him by burying them deep within my
consciousness. I hate Mon Ilson. His goblins had murdered me, and then
stolen my body from the grave. While I obeyed his commands, I secretly
supported his overthrow by Cressida Troy, now his empress, another human
with another name: Nil Ilson.

Cressida had saved my soul. Or rather my nascent magical abilities had led
me to her, and her mind became my temporary safe haven. Then my magical
powers were like a seed, waiting for water and heat. Unwittingly Mon Ilson
supplied those himself, for when he read Cressida’s mind, he had
detected me and recognised my potential as a servant. Like Pandora he opened
the box of magic and let me absorb as much as I could hold.

To regain my body, I had enchanted both Cressida and Mon Ilson into
believing they loved each other and convinced her to prove her loyalty to
him so he would return my soul to my body. As my puppet, Cressida killed the
most powerful human witch, Fleur Cumberland. Mon Ilson repaid me by
returning my soul to my body and sending me to Earth to prepare the way for
his conquest. I had confessed my perfidy to Cressida, hoping she would work
with me to resist him. Cressida married Mon Ilson, and adopted the name Nil
Ilson, and the title Empress of Space.

Mon Ilson’s plan to overthrow the British Empire required the
co-opting of Queen Victoria. He meant to use the vast infrastructure of her
empire to take over the world with hardly a fight. So, for the time being
I’d be his enthusiastic cat’s paw until I could help Nil Ilson,
Cressida, defeat him.

But first I have to find Jacob and Kit.

“Ahem. Er. Miss Whiteheart?”

The clearing throat and hesitant voice reminded me of Mr. Frasier’s
presence. I closed the locket and turned to face the untidily dressed,
red-haired little man. Before I’d lost myself in my own thoughts,
he’d been enthusiastically engaged in a technical monologue about his
new invention.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, returning the locket to my bosom.
“Pray continue.”

He cleared his throat again, and after taking a deep breath began to list
the benefits of his new gadget, a tamperproof roulette wheel.

“It will kill any accusation of fraudulence,” he had
begun.

As if the honesty of my tables had ever been in question. The idea that I
would be accused of cheating was insulting, but I continued to listen with
feigned interest.

His name was David Frasier, a middle-aged inventor and factory owner from
Edinburgh. He’d been introduced to me by Special Branch agent and my
latest lover, Harry Kincaid. After making the introductions, Harry had
excused himself, saying he had to send a message to his club.

That was a lie. The murky shade of Harry’s aura had given him away. I
knew he was listening at the door. He’d asked me to be nice to Frasier
as he was trying to recruit him as a spy. He visited the continent often,
doing business with some prominent politicians and industrialists. The
introduction to me would put Frasier in Harry’s debt.

It was for that reason I resigned myself to listen without objection to the
fellow’s insulting proposition.

Frasier stopped in mid-sentence. He had been enthusiastically describing
his contrivance, something to do with building a miniature mechanical
computational device invented by Charles Babbage, when his face had become
flushed, and beads of perspiration formed on his forehead. His hands started
to tremble, and his final words ended in a slur. His aura had, in an
instant, transformed into a seething pulsating muddy blob, the colours
bubbling through each other in a roiling mass. A moment before it had been
quite normal, nervous perhaps, and very excited, but that is not unusual in
men meeting me for the first time, and after all, he was trying to make a
sale. The transition had been so abrupt, so unnatural, I reached out to his
mind to see the cause. I sensed despair, and most of all, mind-numbing fear.
Hardly a coherent thought peeked through. The one that did was
unmistakable.

“Mr. Frasier, don’t do this!” I put a suppression spell
over him. “Whatever it is, I can help.”

 

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.

 

Contact Links

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

 

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