Category Archives: Teasers

Ripple Effects Teaser

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Contemporary Romance, Multiple Partners

Date Published: June 21, 2024

 

 

Brady Sampson and Myer Joyner met in college, quickly bonding in their
business classes and both landing gigs at nearby Global Initiatives in
scenic Lost Lake, Tennessee. Combining their signing bonuses to invest in a
rental house beside the lake together, the two take to being roommates the
way they have every other challenge they’ve faced over the past two
years — secretly pining for one another while never speaking a word about
it.

That is, until their sexy new coworker, Carly Carmichael, produces an
uncommonly sensual stirring in both men. When Brady invites their new
neighbor over for a meet and greet, she takes him up on the offer on the one
day he’s out. While she and Myer sip wine and get to know each other
better, both let it slip that they have a crush on Brady, unleashing a
series of events that threaten to topple everything they thought they knew
about each other.

 

 

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EXCERPT

“White or red?”

Brady Sampson glanced over at his new roomie, Myer, holding up two wine
bottles and wearing an almost face-splitting grin. He struggled to ignore
the equally cataclysmic ripples of desire that rang through his body as he
kept a placid look on his face.

“Which do you prefer?” Brady answered.

Myer glanced from bottle to bottle as if he’d never seen them before,
giving Brady time to openly adore his big, veiny hands as he held each
aloft. “I always drank beer before now.”

Brady chuckled, never less than amused by Myer’s vaguely off-kilter
outlook on life. “So why don’t we grab some beer
then?”

Myer wrinkled his nose, nostrils flaring under a spray of cheery soft
freckles to go with his mop of strawberry blond stubble. “I dunno,
this seems so grown up right now, you know?”

Brady steered his own shopping cart closer, inching into the liquor aisle
to join his new roomie. “Beer is grown up,” he suggested,
studying the labels next to the shelf where Myer lingered. “And
cheaper, too.”

Myer gave him a “spoilsport” frown but set the bottles back
just the same. “Dude, you’re not going to be one of those
cheap-ass roomies who puts his food on one shelf and mine on the other and
pro-rates the rent if I happen to steal a grape or two, are
you?”

Brady chuckled. “No, of course not. I just don’t really feel
like paying for stuff I’m not going to drink, you know?”

Myer considered this as if he’d never thought of it before.
“Valid point, I suppose.” His big fingers did unspeakable things
to Brady’s already lurid imagination as he moved down the aisle, touching
several brands of champagne. “Bubbly then?”

Brady nodded, as if equally inspired. “That’ll work,” he
agreed, taking one of the two bottles from Myer’s hand.

“Hey!” Myer’s youthful face — oh yeah, he was definitely
getting carded, for sure — broke into a surprised grin. “I thought I
was in charge of alcoholic beverages this time.”

“You are, but that doesn’t mean you’re paying for it
all.”

Myer’s gaze quickly assessed the running total of Brady’s
half-full shopping cart. “You’re paying for the steaks already,
though.”

“Cuz they come in a two-pack. You want me to tear them in half and
get the butcher to rewrap them?”

Myer frowned, looking effortlessly casual in a mustard-colored V-neck and
striped blue Madras shorts, the clothing seeming to hang off his lean, rangy
frame the same way his shirt and ties did at work every day. “Fair is
fair, though.”

“Now who’s the cheap one? Huh, Myer?”

Myer glanced at his own cart, only slightly less full than Brady’s.
They were facing each other in the liquor aisle, carts side by side, just
two bros out shopping like any other two bros out shopping. And yet, to
Brady at least, the seemingly humdrum errand had such an intimate feel to it
he had to struggle to keep from sweating.

“I mean,” Myer teased, nudging Brady’s elbow with no idea
of what that little tremor from his touch felt like racing through
Brady’s body. “Have you seen the price of yogurt
lately?”

Brady snorted, romantic reverie suddenly broken. “No, Myer, because
I’m not a retired housewife on a diet.”

They chuckled together, drifting onto the next aisle and quibbling over
potato chips and pretzels like an old married couple. Brady struggled to
keep things light when all he wanted was to reach out and grab Myer’s
hand and cling to it like they were an actual couple.

He swallowed the desire, as he had all his life, and played it cool
instead. Said the right things. Glanced Myer’s way just long enough,
but never too long. Walked just close enough to him as they argued over
wheat bread versus rye, and never too close. Laughed just hard enough,
smiled just wide enough, sending all the right signals like he always
had.

He’d leapt at the chance to room with Myer when they both got transferred
to the Tennessee branch of Global Initiatives after their internship at the
corporate offices in Latham, Georgia. They’d hit it off as interns,
sharing lunch breaks and chatting it up in the campus gym after weekend
workouts. Brady thought it would be the perfect way to solidify their
friendship, even if he knew they could never be more than that. He thought
he could be strong, thought he could fight the temptation, thought it would
be easy, like it had been back when they’d just shared a
cubicle.

But now? Sharing a sprawling house out on secluded Lost Lake, shopping
together, padding barefoot down the same halls in various stages of undress?
Suddenly Brady wondered if he was strong enough to weather the ups and downs
of living with someone who only wanted to be friends.

When obviously, achingly, frustratingly, Brady wanted to be so much
more.

 

 

About the Author

Alex Winters is the pseudonym of a busy restaurant manager whose curious
young staff would love nothing more than to follow him around the dining
room reading his steamiest, most romantic passages aloud! When not writing
romantic holiday stories of various heat levels, he enjoys long walks with
his wife, scary movies and smooth jazz. Visit him online to see what stories
are brewing up next!

 

Contact Links

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

 

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Ghosts Teaser Tuesday

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The People That Melt in the Rain #2

 

Graphic novels-YA Fantasy

Date Published: 05-23-2024

Publisher: Abigail Books

 

Laura has only just come to terms with moving to the strange town of
Deluge, when she is mysteriously transported into a painting that is
displayed in the school library.  Shocked by her sudden relocation she
realizes she’s been brought back home to Seattle, Washington, but it
isn’t the Seattle she left behind. Has she also stepped backwards in
time?

 

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About the Author 

Mike Dubisch, Carolyn Watson Dubisch,

Mike and Carolyn began collaborating artistically at the School Of Visual
Arts in New York City.  They married soon after graduating and began
working together. Their first major project was designing rides on the Turn
of the Century Carousel that was displayed in Grand Central Station in New
York, The LA Auto Show in California, also in Washington DC and New
Orleans.  Their comic book adaptation of the Japanese fable Urishima
Taro, initially created for a fundraiser for the tsunami victims in Japan,
was licensed by FOX in 2013.

Mike is well known for his fantasy art and comics, including art for Star
Wars, Dungeons & Dragons, and Aliens VS Predator. Carolyn is a multiple
award winning author and illustrator of numerous children’s books,
working with multiple publishers and authors, and has appeared in Highlights
For Children magazine. Their most ambitious project, the all-ages graphic
novel series The People That Melt In The Rain, is the product of over ten
years of development.

 

Contact Links

Carolyn’s Facebook

Mike’s Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

Pinterest

Carolyn’s Instagram

Mike’s Instagram

Amazon Author Page

 

Preorder Links

Amazon

Lulu

 

 

 
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Soul Ink Teaser Tuesday

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Poetry

Date to be Published: June 23, 2024

 

 

Poetry; a unique and beautiful way to express feelings and ideas. Weaving
words into perfect poetic prose, these authors remind you of your childhood,
bring comfort from the hardships of life, fiercely spur emotions, and tell
tales of old. All lovers of poetry will find a favorite here!

Featuring poems by Rhiannon Bird, Luke Dylan Ramsey, Ron Perovich, M. Kelly
Peach, John Grey, Michael J. Corrigan, K.J. Watson, Jonathan Reddoch,
Vanessa Bane, Stephen Schwei, Daniel Anaya, Dana Trick, Cara Hartley,
Douglas Allen Gohl, Samuel Samba, Monica Kakkar, Rizwan Akhtar, Emma
Laurent, Ebuka Stephen, and J.E. Feldman.

Soul Ink standing book

Excerpts

 

A Brief Ode to an Unseen Eclipse

Though we were not in the path of totality

Partial eclipse sighting was possibility

Overcast as it was, it was not meant to be.

Clouds thick and heavy

Obscuring the sun.

 

Butterfly

many sing your praise

while your numbers grow smaller

precious butterfly

 

Charcoal

I inflame your fire

giving you warmth you desire

fundamental fuel

 

Dear Author

Dear Author,

Thank you for the submission of your story for our anthology.

Your story has good bones.

For us to consider publishing the piece, you must make it more innovative
by changing the characters to amorphous blobs with no discernible age,
ethnicity, nationality, sex, or size.

Within the confines of ten thousand words, we also insist on more
descriptive descriptions of the futuristic setting while not getting lost in
describing the futuristic setting but rather concentrating on compelling
character development between the amorphous blobs.

Further, we insist upon inclusion of an enemies to lovers trope.

Yours truly,

The Publisher

 

a wintry shower

dusting of snow on the trees

as spring awakens

 

Elm

I sit in my house listening to house music at 6:23 AM.

The skies are gray and the birds have not yet started stirring

In the ugly Siberian elm outside my window.

My father hated these trees with their rough bark and leaves.

He despised their haggard appearance,

Lamenting the downfall of their handsomer cousins, the American elm.

I remember seeing technicians cutting off branches of trees

Spraying them with paint, sometimes felling the whole thing

In order to stop the spread of Dutch elm disease.

I hope my father would be pleased to know

About the efforts made to save the trees he loved

So future generations can appreciate them

As he always did.

Outside my window, an ugly Siberian elm is a dwelling place for beautiful
birds.

 

For my father

31 May 1936 – 28 November 2010

 

Ornery Owl logo

Ornery Owl is a wise old bird who seeks the truth behind the lies. She uses
her observations to heal the wounded soul. In essence, she is the spirit of
an odd little bird whose wings were clipped at a young age. She is at once a
whimsical manifestation of poetic expression and a fierce protector of those
targeted for derision by an angry and unsympathetic world. Depending on how
you perceive her, she can be either a goddamned delight or your worst
nightmare.

 

Follow Ornery Owl (AKA Cara Hartley)

Cara H and Ornery Owl Amazon Author Page

C. L. Hart Newsletter

(C. L. Hart is my fantasy, horror, and sweet romance author pen
name.)

Naughty Netherworld Press Start Page

 

Purchase Today

 

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Morgue Teaser Tuesday

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A Bones MC Romance

Iron Tzars MC, Book 11

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: June 14, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

Dorothy: Spring Break turned into my worst nightmare. Drugged and held
against my will, the brutality I witness seems too horrible to be real.
Unable to escape, unable to do anything other than await my fate, I nearly
gave up hope. Then he burst through the door like an avenging angel. My very
own angel of death.

Morgue: I’m a straight-up killer. It’s what I’ve trained
for my entire adult life. I got my road name because I’ve put more men
in the morgue than all my brothers combined. So when we rescue a group of
women being held by human traffickers, I did what I do best. I killed. But
not for all the women we rescued. For her. Dorothy. My very own angel of
mercy. Now that I have her, I’ll do anything to keep her. I just hope
she can accept what I am and not condemn my soul to hell.

 

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

 

 

 Morgue tablet

Excerpt

 

Dorothy

Moans of the other women in the shitty little shack filled the air. I knew
the feeling. My head throbbed and every muscle in my body ached. The rooms
were paper thin so we all could hear the screams of the others around us.
The cruel laughter of men. The frightened whimpers of the women. And girls.
I had absolutely no idea where I was or how long I’d been there, but I
knew it wasn’t Kansas.

“Levántate, perra. Afuera.”

“I don’t understand.” It wasn’t a new thing. And
I’d paid for not knowing Spanish more than once since I’d been
taken.

“¡Ahora!” The guy knew I didn’t understand. It felt
like he took pleasure in the fact I didn’t understand so he could
single me out. I shrank back, trying to make myself smaller in the face of
the brutality I knew was about to happen. He lunged forward and backhanded
me before grabbing my arm and shoving me out of the tiny room I shared with
five other girls.

I hit the floor, my knees slamming onto the hard dirt. Pain shot from my
knees up my thighs, and I cried out. When I tried to get up, the guy kicked
me in the side. My head spun with all the sudden movements. I thought it was
also some kind of lingering effect of the drugs they kept shooting me full
of. They did it to everyone who fought. Unless they wanted us to fight. I
got dosed often.

“Perra estúpida,” he muttered. I got the
“stupid” part, and I could only assume the other was
“bitch,” but it could have been anything. The kick knocked the
breath out of me and sent pain exploding through my ribs. I groaned but knew
better than to make too much of a fuss. Noise drew attention I didn’t
want. Attention meant someone was about to hurt me worse than I already
was.

“¡Escuchen!” The big brute swept his hand through the
air, obviously wanting everyone’s attention. He spoke in a string of
rapid-fire Spanish I didn’t understand. I was pretty sure something
horrible was about to happen and I sincerely hoped it didn’t have
anything to do with me. I’d been here maybe a week. Seemed like
longer. I was surprised this guy or the men and women with him hadn’t
done more than terrorize me or the other women. Though I was sure the
qualifier “yet” needed to be added. There was no way
they’d brought us here for tantalizing conversation. Though I’d
been smacked around a lot and was covered in bruises, they hadn’t
seriously harmed me. Again, there was that fucking qualifier hanging over my
head.

I crawled very slowly to the wall where the other women were, trying not to
make sudden moves so he didn’t bring his focus back to me. The one
thing I knew for sure — in spite of the language barrier — was that I
absolutely did not want any of these men to focus on me for too long.

All the women around me were whimpering and trembling, looking as terrified
as I felt. A few looked like they might have checked out and I didn’t
blame them. If I knew how, I probably would too. Fighting back didn’t
seem like the smart thing to do if I wanted to live. While I knew there were
fates worse than death, I wasn’t ready to contemplate them just yet. I
was sure, at some point, I’d have to face that decision, and I
wasn’t looking forward to it.

More rapid-fire Spanish followed as one of the other men dragged a young
woman down the hall and tossed her to the ground so she skidded several feet
before rolling to her knees with a whimper. She’d been beaten, one
side of her face swollen. I hadn’t seen her before, but, given the
track marks on her arms and how badly she’d been beaten, I was certain
she’d attempted to escape. They’d likely dosed her as much as
they’d dosed the rest of us when we got out of line. Only, this time,
I got the impression this guy was done taking shit.

“Esto es lo que les pasa a las perras que no me obedecen. Si no me
obedeces, esto te pasará.”

I didn’t understand. But I didn’t have to. The next thing I
knew, he’d drawn out a machete. The girl screamed and tried to
scramble back only to be held in place by two more men. A third helped them
wrestle her to the ground onto her back. Once they had her down, the third
guy held her legs at the ankles. There was a whoosh as the blade cut through
the air and came down on her right thigh.

Blood arced when he raised the machete and brought it down again on the
same leg. It took three more tries before he hacked her leg off and started
on the other one. Everyone screamed, myself included. When anyone turned
away, there were men to force them to turn back. And watch.

Before he got her second leg hacked off, the woman was unconscious. There
was blood splatter everywhere, but once a limb was completely severed, the
bleeding slowed dramatically. Still, the men tied tourniquets above the
stumps.

I’m sure I was one of the women screaming. If I was, though, I had no
memory of it. All I could process was a young woman getting her legs chopped
off.

“Esto es lo que sucede cuando intentas escapar.” He spat on
her. “Una puta sin piernas es más fácil de follar.
¿Sí?”

I stared at the unconscious woman. Though he hadn’t killed her
outright, I was sure she wouldn’t last long. One of the men grabbed
her wrist and dragged her out of the room, leaving a trail of blood as he
went.

As I watched, one of the men approached me with an evil smirk on his face.
“In case you’re wondering,” he said in thickly accented
Spanish, “He said this is what happens when you try to escape,
Americana.” He grinned. “And a whore without legs is easier to
fuck.” He snorted a laugh. “I happen to agree. So, I’m
really hoping you try to escape too.”

I barely held back a sob of despair. I knew he was trying to elicit a
response from me, likely to give him a reason to hit me. There were some of
us who tried to fight back when they came for us, but we were always
overpowered. So far, all they’d done was beat me, but most of the
others had been brutally raped and I knew that’s what they were
building up to. This was a whorehouse of sorts. Only, the women didn’t
get paid. The men who “owned” us did. A place where we were all
used and trafficked.

The guy backhanded me when I didn’t respond to him. I fell back with
a cry, covering my head with my arms and whimpering.

“Don’t worry, bitch. You won’t suffer long. I doubt you
make it a month once we start breaking you in.” He gave a bark of
laughter before kicking me.

My head swam from both the blow to my face and the remaining drugs in my
system. More men crowded us in the tiny corridor only to shove us into
various rooms. There were five more women in the room I landed in. Three
filthy mattresses lay on the floor and a bucket sat in one corner for us to
relieve ourselves. That’s the way it had been since I’d been
here.

The next thing was the men coming to shoot us full of whatever drug they
were using. I suspected it was heroin. A couple of the girls screamed while
the other three complied easily. Probably because they were addicted or
figured it was better to endure whatever happened next while blissfully numb
than stone-cold sober. I understood. While I couldn’t put up much of a
fight this time, I wanted to. Desperately. I hadn’t given up hope of
getting out of here alive. Not really. Not yet. But I wasn’t too
ashamed to admit I was fucking close.

A man held my arm while another jabbed a needle into my arm at the bend of
my elbow and pressed the plunger. The pain of the dull needle sinking into
my arm was soon replaced by a sickening euphoria. My eyes glazed over and my
body went limp. I was still conscious, but… detached.

That was when one of the men shoved me onto a mattress and pulled at my
clothes. He was breathing heavily and talking in Spanish, but I got the gist
of what he was saying. He was going to fuck me. I caught the word
“Americana” and figured he was taking bragging rights by fucking
the American woman. They all looked at my blonde hair and blue eyes, going
so far as to pry my eyes open and touch my eyeball, like a child testing if
something was real. Maybe they thought I had contacts or something. Many of
them felt my hair, fisting it and mimicked wrapping it around their cocks. I
imagined far worse was going to happen shortly.

I whimpered but couldn’t even form words to tell the guy to stop. Not
that it would have done any good. I batted at him weakly, but he
didn’t seem to notice much less even acknowledge I was trying to fight
him off.

Once he had me naked from the waist down, the guy crawled on top of me,
pressing me into the filthy mattress. He reached between us and freed his
cock. I could feel the head of it touching me. I shuddered, gagging as I
pushed at him weakly.

“No!” I tried to shout the word at him, but it was a whisper at
best. Just as he was about to penetrate me, there was a huge bang and the
door splintered, throwing pieces of wood all around the room. I was sure
some were embedded in my skin, but I still couldn’t do more than try
to roll away from the man on top of me.

He shouted, pushing himself to his feet. Once his weight was off me, I
crawled as best I could to the corner of the room and tucked myself into a
ball. It was all I was capable of. I couldn’t even cry. Oh, tears
poured freely from my eyes, but I didn’t have the strength to sob out
my fear and frustration.

I thought there were screams all around me, not only in this room but in
others nearby, but it was hard to tell. The more I tried to move, the more
the room spun. Somewhere in the background of all that, and the ringing in
my ears, I knew a fight raged. Was it more men coming to chop off the legs
of someone else? Oh, God!

Then someone grabbed at my arms. I was helpless to stop them. I thought I
was even more groggy than I had been when I was about to be raped. Whatever
drug they’d given me had started to take hold. It was only the
adrenaline coursing through my veins that kept me conscious.

“Hold on, honey. We’re gettin’ you outta
here.”

 

 

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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Shifters’ Sea Teaser Tuesday

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Romantic Moments, Book 5

 

Paranormal Romance

Date Published: 06-01-2024

 

 

Kai – Once upon a time, my kind were protectors, but the modern world
doesn’t believe in legends, so I cruise the oceans, happily single
with no responsibility. During a storm at sea, I rescue an irresistible
woman and get dragged into a battle with a crazy cousin who has developed a
taste for selkies.

Ivy – When I left home to escape an arranged marriage to the leader
of our selkie harem, I didn’t expect to be caught in a storm and
hauled aboard an old tub by a gorgeous guy. Kai is everything I want, but
when I return home to tie up loose ends, I find a killer hunting my people.
We selkies learn fast that to kill a shark, it takes a shark.

 

Excerpt

The seal fights its way closer to the boat. I’m about to dive in
after it when it reaches the edge. Grabbing a coil of rope, I toss it
overboard. The seal shifts to a blond woman. She clings to my line.

Grunting, I haul her up, fighting wind and water, until she lands, naked
and panting on my deck.

“Hey are you okay?” I kneel beside her. Still breathing hard, she
lifts her gaze to mine and nods. I’m momentarily stunned. She has the most
amazing green eyes I’ve ever seen, not to mention a gorgeous body. Muscles,
generous curves, long legs. If we weren’t in the middle of a storm, I’d be
slack-jawed, but right now my main concern is to keep us afloat. Not that I
couldn’t survive in the open sea, even in a storm, but I’ve gotten attached
to this boat and I’d rather not lose it.

“Come on. I have clothes you can put on.”

We stand and the ship lurches. I reach out to steady her, but her sea legs
are just as good as mine. Not shocking, considering what she is.

I glance off to the side. Another giant wave rises and in it, I glimpse a
big, dark silhouette with glowing amber eyes. It’s gone in seconds.

“What’s wrong?” asks my unexpected guest.

“I thought I saw something, that’s all.”

About the Author

Kate Hill

Kate Hill is a vegetarian New Englander who loves writing romantic
fantasies. When she’s not working on her books, Kate enjoys reading, working
out, watching horror movies, and researching vampires and Viking history.
She runs the Compelling Beasts Blog that is dedicated to antagonists,
antiheroes, and paranormal creatures. Kate also writes as Saloni
Quinby.

 

Contact Links

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