Category Archives: Teasers

Fear Doctor Teaser Tuesday

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Fear Doctor cover

Stories: Armageddon, Betrayal, The Cabin, Darkness, Deathly Silence,
Don’t Speak, The Flavor of Death, The Frame, Night of the Living
Stomach, Mystery of the Living Stomach, The Silence, Speak of the Devil,
Transmission of Salvation, Whispers In the Dark

 

Flash Fiction, Horror

Publication Date: September 23, 2024

 

 

Bite-sized horror stories are brought to you by twenty-five authors. From
creepy crawlies to the seemingly normal pets. From hideous monsters lurking
in the dark to charismatic people showing their true colors.

Each tale is precisely 100 words and leaves a long-lasting chilling effect.
Some will make you question the security of the world around you, and
what’s more terrifying than that?

Featuring drabbles by Bernardo Villela, D.J. Tuskmor, Paul Lonardo, Joshua
Ginsberg, Amanda Bergloff, Kelly Barker, Zari Hunt, Yuliia Vereta, Andrew
Buckner, T.L. Beeding, K.J. Watson, Kelly Matsuura, Jonathan Reddoch, Petina
Strohmer, Jacek Wilkos, Kailey Alessi, Vanessa Bane, Andreas Flögel,
Natalya Monyok, Mattie Hernandez, Ken Whitson, Liam Kerry, C.L. Hart,
Geneviève Lowe, and J.E. Feldman.

 

Excerpt

Night of the Living Stomach

The body was dead but the stomach was not. It lurched its way out of the
incision and landed with a plop on the autopsy room floor. It inched along
tasting cleaning fluid until it found the spotless break room. It climbed
onto the pristine counter and enveloped the shiny coffee maker.

The stomach recoiled in disgust at the flavor of more cleaning products
combined with bitter coffee grounds. It missed its host. Isaac Head never
failed to feed it on command. In fact, he’d been about to bite into a
juicy burger when he plowed into an oncoming semi.

 

About the Author

C. L. Hart logo

C. L. Hart is the owner and sole employee of Ornery Owl Ventures, is an
editor who writes or a writer who edits. She is described as The Mad Scribe
of the Northeastern Colorado Plains, The Terrible Old Woman, and The Author
That Should Not Be.

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

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

Ms. Hart is a member of ACES Editing Society, The Denver Horror Collective,
First Coast Romance Writers, The H. P. Lovecraft Society, Passionate Ink
(writing as Lil DeVille), and Rocky Mountain Romance Writers.

 

Follow C. L. Hart

 

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Cheshire Teaser

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Cheshire cover

(Underland MC)

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: August 16, 2024

 

 

Cheshire is perfect for fans of suspense and forbidden love stories.

Eliza — Being the daughter of the sheriff might sound nice to most people.
But they don’t know what my father is truly like. All they see is the
mask he wears. The congenial smile, the good deeds, and the way he puts
others before himself. It’s all an act. Behind closed doors,
he’s a monster. One I can’t seem to escape. Until I’ve
finally had enough… my daring attempt to leave home lands me in the
arms of the VP of the Underland MC… and something tells me
there’s no safer place to be.

Cheshire — As the VP of the Underland MC, and former military, I’m
no stranger to dangerous situations. When my club discovers the local
sheriff is corrupting the town of Warren, I know we need to step in. Human
trafficking and abuse are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the
sheriff and his henchmen. But the one thing I never expected to find was
love — especially with the sheriff’s innocent daughter. I’ll
make sure to take the bastard down, not only for the town of Warren, but for
Eliza. I never want to see fear in her eyes again.

Are you ready for this gripping tale of danger and desire?

 

 

EXCERPT

 

Eliza

The room swam in a haze of fear and broken glass. Sheriff Holmes’
face twisted into an ugly snarl, eyes burning with rage. He clenched his
fists, knuckles turning white. This wasn’t anything new for my father.
Just another day in my miserable life.

“Stand up,” he barked, voice like ice. I forced myself to my
feet, trembling like a leaf, tears streaming down my face.

“Please don’t,” I whispered, but my words fell on deaf
ears.

“Shut up!” His fist collided with my cheekbone, the force
sending me sprawling back to the floor. The air rushed from my lungs as if
I’d been sucker punched. Pain exploded through my skull.

This is it. This is how I die.

“Get up,” he spat again, reveling in the torment he inflicted.
The darkness in his eyes chilled me to the core. I scrambled to my feet,
legs shaking, praying for some kind of reprieve.

“Look at you,” he sneered, grabbing a fistful of my hair and
yanking me closer. “Pathetic.”

“Please, stop,” I whimpered, too weak to resist his iron grip.
In that moment, I knew I was nothing to him — just another thing to control
and bend to his will. He’d never think of me as a daughter, as family.
I wasn’t sure a monster like him was capable of such a thing.

“Did you think I’d let you get away with it? That I
wouldn’t find out?” He punctuated his words with a vicious blow
to my stomach, causing bile to rise in my throat.

Can’t breathe. Can’t fight back. Just need to survive. I curled
up to protect my already battered body.

“Learn your place,” he hissed as he landed one final punch,
then turned to leave, his heavy footsteps echoing in my ears.

I didn’t know what I’d done to make him so angry this time. It
could have been anything. Maybe I’d put something in the wrong place.
I didn’t think I’d ruined any of his clothes when I’d done
the laundry. No matter how hard I thought about it, I had no idea what
I’d done.

Blood dripped down my face, each droplet a painful reminder of the violent
flurry that had just unfolded. I stared at the cracked mirror on the wall,
catching glimpses of my battered reflection between the jagged lines. The
pain was unbearable, but what hurt more was the feeling of utter
helplessness.

“Is this it?” I whispered to myself, choking back tears.
“Is this all my life will ever be?”

My eyes scanned the room, taking in the shattered glass and twisted
remnants of what had once been my sanctuary. How could I ever feel safe
again, knowing that he’d violated every inch of this space?

I pressed my hand against my bruised ribs, wincing at the sharp stab of
pain. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a world where the torture
ceased, where I could finally be free from his sadistic grip.

“Maybe death would be better,” I admitted, my voice barely
audible. “At least then, I wouldn’t have to live in
fear.”

The thought sent shivers down my spine, but also brought an odd sense of
comfort. In death, there would be peace. No more beatings, no more
humiliation, no more heart-pounding terror that gripped me every time he
approached. Even if there was nothing but a sea of darkness on the other
side, it would be preferable to this.

“Eliza,” my father’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I
realized he was standing in my doorway again. “Don’t think
I’m done with you. If you ever try to defy me again, I won’t
hesitate to end your miserable existence.”

Fear slithered its way into my throat, choking me as I struggled to find my
voice. “Yes, sir,” I managed to whisper, quivering under the
weight of his gaze. I couldn’t ask how I’d defied him. Doing so
would only spark his anger again.

“Remember that.” With one last chilling glare, he slammed the
door behind him, leaving me to wallow in my own despair.

Trembling, I realized that even the thought of death couldn’t save
me. The fear of my father, of Sheriff Holmes, held me captive in a prison
more terrifying than any physical cage.

“Death or life,” I whispered into the void. “Either way,
I’m trapped.”

My heart pounded, and my hands shook. I didn’t even remember my
mother anymore. She’d died so long ago. I thought we were happier
then, but I didn’t know for sure. Had my father always been a
monster?

“No escape.” If I tried… I dragged myself up, wincing.
Bruised, battered, weak. That’s what I saw when I looked in the
mirror. At times like this, I hated myself. If I were strong, would I be
able to stand up to him? Or if I were more cunning, could I escape?

“Damn him,” I muttered, the words barely escaping my swollen
lips.

The sound of motorcycles roared in the distance. I knew they’d belong
to the local motorcycle club. I’d seen them at a distance many
times.

A light tap on my window drew me over to it. “Who’s
there?”

I kept my voice low, not wanting to draw my father’s attention again.
“It’s Maria from next door.”

“Maria,” I breathed, relief washing over me for a brief moment.
We weren’t exactly close, but she’d noticed my wounds before and
done her best to help. Although she too feared my father.

“Open the window,” she urged.

“Can’t be seen together,” I reminded her, my gaze darting
around the room in panic. “He’ll hurt us both. If he thinks
you’re helping me…”

“Eliza, listen,” she said urgently. “I’ve found
help. The Underland MC. I think if you can get to them, they’ll
protect you.”

“Protect me?” I scoffed, disbelief coloring my tone.
“From Sheriff Holmes? No one can do that. It would be different if my
father were anyone else.”

“They can,” Maria insisted. “Those men aren’t
scared of anyone. I don’t have proof, but I think they’re
responsible for something big that went down a few weeks ago.”

“Help from bikers?” I questioned, my mind racing. “How
can I trust them?”

“They look big and scary, but they do a lot of good around town. And
from what I’ve heard, they’re all ex-military,” she said.
“They’re your only shot, Eliza.”

“All right, but how?” I asked.

“Tonight. If you can get away, I can take you to them. I was behind
one of them at the grocery store earlier. Heard him on the phone talking
about meeting everyone at a diner in town.”

“I’ll try.” I didn’t want to think of the
consequences if my father caught me. He might actually kill me.

 

 

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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The Spy Who Spanked Me Teaser

 

The Spy Who Spanked Me cover

 

A Regency BDSM Novella 

Date Published: August 9, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

Pickpocket Tasha picked the wrong man to follow. After she witnesses an
assassination, the sexy killer ties her to his bed. Marcus wants answers —
who is she? Why was she following him? To his surprise, his pretty captive
enjoys all the sensual torment he metes out, and begs him for more. He’d
never dared to dream of finding a woman who matched his craving to inflict a
little pain on tender female flesh.

Tasha will do anything to save her skin. She’ll even let the masked man
holding her captive take her in ways she’s never imagined. She’s always
wanted a man to take command of her in bed. Tied up and helpless, she’ll
give Marcus everything he demands physically, but she can’t tell him all the
secrets of her sordid past.

Marcus demands more than answers — he wants her total submission. But can
Tasha trust the spy who spanked her?

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Gemma Woods

 

The gentleman did nothing in particular to distinguish himself, but Tasha
found her gaze arrested by him nonetheless. Certainly tall, brown-haired
gentlemen in somber evening clothes were a ha’penny a dozen at
King’s Theatre, but this man would draw her eye in any crowd. Not
exactly handsome, not with those arched black brows and slightly crooked
nose. Still, he looked as regal as a lord, standing proudly behind a buxom
lady with an elaborate coiffure. Purple feathers adorned her bonnet, the
frothy concoction all but obscuring his firm chin.

A military man? Probably not, although he did have the bearing of an
officer, with his shoulders back and his chest thrust proudly forward. In
the chattering, whirling crowd leaving the theatre, this man stood apart
like an obelisk. His stance was both proprietary and defiant, hawkish
features seeming to challenge anyone who dared encroach upon his property.
Property? Ah, he must be the woman’s protector.

The feathers fluttered away, and his stark blue eyes locked on Tasha.
Goodness, what a riveting look. She nearly put a hand to her chest in shock.
Did he know her for a thief? Those piercing eyes seemed to peer into the
deepest secrets of her soul.

Almost, she almost turned to run. But then his gaze slid away as though he
hadn’t noticed her at all. He inclined his head slightly to the right,
no doubt acknowledging a passing acquaintance in the crowd. The frothy ivory
cravat at his throat seemed incongruous, a touch of civility on a man more
predatory than polite. When he smiled, the flash of even white teeth
reminded her of the lion she’d seen at Astleys, restless animal energy
threatening from behind the bars of its iron cage. She could easily imagine
him snarling deep in his throat like that great jungle cat.

A sudden image of him growling against her bared breast made her knees go
weak. When he raised a long-fingered hand to lift the brim of his
hat… oh yes, she pictured those masculine fingers on her belly,
sliding teasingly lower…

Mouth suddenly dry, Tasha swallowed. The warm, stifling air could not be
blamed for the prickling flush of heat on the back of her neck. Bouncing
feather fronds obscured his face again, and Tasha leaned to the side to keep
his face in view. From this angle, only his mouth and jaw were
visible.

She glared at the giggling courtesan. Silly widgeon.

Ridiculous to envy a woman who earned her bread on her back, but sharing
her handsome protector’s bed could be no hardship. Watching his
expressive mouth quirk at some private joke, Tasha sighed. ’Twould be
a rare pleasure to lie with a man so confident and quixotic. It had been
long, far too long, since she’d bedded down with a man… and
longer still since one had cared to make the experience a pleasure for
her.

Another gentleman approached, a thin-shouldered, thin-lipped dandy with a
purple waistcoat to match the harlot’s bonnet. As the dark gentleman
stepped back, the newcomer took the courtesan’s arm. Ah, this was the
feathered widgeon’s protector. The hawkish man melted away as though
he’d never been near, moving back until he stood next to a circle of
young bucks. As Tasha stared, he somehow transformed into a gentleman of the
sporting set. Despite the wings of gray hair marking his temples, he gave
himself a much more youthful air, his shoulders slanting in a casual pose,
one hip slightly higher than the other. An insouciant smile curved his full
lips, and his stormy blue eyes narrowed in sarcastic delight as though
he’d been privy to the jest that had set the others chortling.

Tasha didn’t know him, but she recognized a person trying to blend in
where he didn’t belong. A kindred spirit. But oh, this man was a
master of the art. She could learn much from observing a chameleon of his
caliber.

She slowly worked her way in a circle around him, keeping her distance,
watching him transform time and again. Now a country squire, somehow
appearing portly despite his impeccably flat torso; now a weary veteran,
shoulders stooped, expression blank, eyes hollow. Never quite handsome, but
always fascinating. She could scarce look away. He moved through the crowd
until he’d scoured the entire throng, subtly altering his posture and
demeanor to blend in with different groups. And then, with an expression of
pure annoyance, he left through a narrow side door that led to the alley
behind the theatre.

Somehow, she knew that fierce scowl, that flash of anger, was the only
truth of the evening. The real man behind the mask of an actor.

Without conscious thought, Tasha followed him. She pushed through the crowd
with a single purpose until she reached the door, shoving it open with a
creak all but drowned by the chattering voices behind her. She glanced to
the left and squinted. Even though the sun hadn’t quite set, the
London air at dusk was gloomy from the smoke of thousands of cooking fires.
A horse whinnied, stamping one restless foot behind a cart blocking the
alleyway, but nothing moved. She looked right. Ah, there he was, turning the
corner at the end of the alley.

She rushed after him, her sturdy shoes clopping softly on the paving
stones, careful not to step in wet patches left from the afternoon’s
rain. By the time she reached the crossing street, her calves ached from
straining to keep her balance as she ran over the slippery pavement. She
slowed and eased her way around the corner. Would he see her? She could
pretend to be a doxy or go in the other direction to evade him
completely.

The thought of abandoning her pursuit gave her a pang of unease, and
she’d learned to never question her intuition. She had no intention of
letting him slip away into the dusk, never to be seen again.

His long strides had already taken him down the street to the outer corner
of the square. If she got too close, he’d hear her. Would he call the
watch? No matter. She hadn’t pocketed much from the nobs tonight, so
he would have no reason to suspect her. Perhaps he’d think her a
trollop and proposition her.

Perhaps she would accept.

Good heavens, that thought shouldn’t make her breath catch. More
likely he’d demand an explanation, and what could she say? “You
fascinate me?
” He’d think her fit for Bedlam.

No, she’d remain hidden tonight. Find his lodgings, then think of a
way to contrive a meeting tomorrow.

 

About the Author

Gemma Woods has no spouse, no children, and no pets. Her family is
imaginary — she writes them. Outside her imaginary world, she enjoys the
typical author hobbies of reading, traveling, and fretting over her dying
houseplants.

 

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

 

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Newton’s First Teaser

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Newton's First cover

A Cyberpunk Novel

Motherboards & Magic, Book 1

 

Cyberpunk / Science Fiction

Date Published: August 2, 2024

 


 

 

Newton’s First Law: An object in motion remains in motion. Until an
outside force screws it all up.

As a grieving child in a burned-out husk of a body, Asher Syphamus was
given an impersonal room within the Company’s cold labs — until he
was offered a second chance with illegal and painful cybernetic
augmentations. Now, after many decades of martial arts training and mental
conditioning, Ash is the all powerful DPL’s top agent and never misses
a target. Along with his beautiful, hyper-sexed purple partner, Vers, the
unstoppable duo hunts down the most dangerous hackers and criminals for
punishment or elimination.

Korya Funo is full of privileged DPL information downloaded into her brain.
If caught, she would be deleted from the census. That keeps her running —
until her luck runs out in Paradise, Nevada. When she’s captured by
Ash and Vers, Korya accidentally reveals the truth about Asher’s
parents’ deaths, and then all hell breaks loose.

Now with all their lives on the line and the fate of the planet riding on
their backs, they trio will show the world why Newton’s First Law is
not to be screwed with.

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2024 Stephanie Burke & Areana Senoj

 

“Fuck, Vers. Where are you?” Asher Syphamus muttered softly,
knowing the cochlear implant installed just above his jaw bone and below his
ear would pick up his words.

The wind whipped back the few tendrils of hair that escaped the tight bun
containing his long hair. The bun hid locks tipped a rich blue almost
matching the color of his cybernetic left eye.

As he walked away from the Virt Dive, the virtual reality diving bar where
his mark had been lost earlier in the Blue, he wondered why people even
bothered to hide from real life. The fucking Blue was where everyone logged
in, turned on, and turned up in cyberspace. The Blue was a whole world
inside the actual world, one that many used to escape life, spread joy,
disappear into a sea of information, of education… to be your avatar
while you fled your body and got lost in a way that only total computer
immersion could bring. And above the Blue was the White.

The White was a shady, dangerous place where only the most experienced
divers dared to venture — the environment was just too dangerous for a
diver used to only dealing with the Blue. The White was physically a small
blank plane existing between the connection of the Blue and the person
putting out information. Here, the world’s best hackers snatched
dangerous information from accidental info dumps from those who purposefully
stole and sold the data to the highest bidder. No matter how many protocols
were put in place to protect the vulnerable space, the White divers always
found a way in. And his latest ping had come from the mark he’d
finally tracked down to this dive.

He felt the signal he was tracking start to move again and watched as his
target slipped out, looking over her shoulder as if she knew he was there
and following her. As he walked past the large, mirrored wall to the shop,
he caught a quick glimpse of himself as he passed. His face was pale, creamy
tan, the same as his mother’s. He had her eyes too, large but with an
epicanthic fold that proclaimed his Asian ancestry. His eyebrows had some
thickness but with a natural arch that made his eyes rather pretty. He had
his African father’s full lips, though not the same concentration of
melanin, more’s the pity. He could use more sun protection in this
bright-assed desert. His nose was broad though, its bridge straight as a
knife, and his cheekbones were high and sharp, like his dad’s. His
thick, wavy hair was kept long and confined now so it wouldn’t get in
his way.

Though he only caught a glimpse of himself as he followed after his mark,
he could barely stand to look at his reflection. He was a damn near perfect
combination of both his parents from what he could recall, though he
didn’t dwell on that much. The pain of it all was still too
crushing.

The air circulating through his lungs was quiet as he pulled in his
emotions. Barely a sound emerged from his body as his booted feet slammed
down on the concrete when his body lurched forward. His little trip into
nostalgia had given his mark time to run and now he had to give chase.

His heart would be racing if it actually had the capacity to pump hot blood
through his veins. His target was pulling a jackrabbit, dodging in between
early morning foot traffic on the busy city street as she looked around her,
prey knowing she was being stalked by an apex predator. Only the bright and
very visible green of her plaits kept him from moving any faster. No matter
how much he wanted to knock people aside to reach his target, he knew that
drawing more attention to himself would be detrimental to their
mission.

“I’ve been at this since the ass crack of dawn and I would
really like to get some accurate intel from you, you one-being
orgy.”

Don’t get cheeky, Vers responded. You’re just upset you don’t get laid.

Vers’ answer through Asher’s implanted microphone sounded more
amused than insulted. That wasn’t what Asher had hoped for. When Vers
was annoyed, his work efficiency increased by almost three percent and he
could use some of that efficiency now, at least until he caught up with the
woman who pinged on his internal sensors.

“Hmph,” Asher huffed. “Can you keep your mind out of your
pants and on the job? I need to know if she’s the one.”

The green-haired woman in question cast one more furtive look over her
shoulder before trying to hide herself in a gaggle of schoolchildren, all
racing and gleefully dodging through the streets teeming with people
traveling to get to their jobs and appointments in the watery light of a new
sun. With their connection pads in hand, the tourist masses were an
explosion of color, a flock of bright, chattering birds that raced through
the smiling crowds. Their laughter was contagious, and it made Asher grit
his teeth. In a firefight, mundanes always seemed to run right in the path
of danger. He wished they would all just disappear.

I’m working on it. Give me a mo. Paradaise has a complicated network
of —

“You just don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”
Asher managed to dodge several children, keeping one eye on the green of his
mark’s hair as she ducked around a corner. He was closing in.

He moved faster, desperate not to lose her or give his position away. She
couldn’t know if he was actually chasing her and he wanted to stay in
that pocket of the unknown. She might sense someone or something was hot on
her tail, but she had no idea from which direction the attack would come.
And it wasn’t like there were a lot of places to hide in Paradaise,
Nevada.

And then he wanted to smack himself stupid for thinking that a woman who
could possibly be the government hacker he was sent out to find
wouldn’t be wily enough to actually give him the slip. Underestimation
was going to cost him dearly because the moment he turned the corner, he
lost sight of her in a sea of green, low-flying kites.

Hey buddy, guess what? Did you know there’s a butterfly kite flying
festival today? There’s gonna be a lot of kids and old people so maybe
you wanna keep an eye out for that
.

“Gee, thanks, Vers. You couldn’t fucking tell me that five
minutes earlier?” As he spoke, he heard a cheer, and a wall of sound
rushed past him as the hum of several hundred robotic and some basic silk
cloth kites took to the sky. People looked up in awe as dancing holograms of
colorful transparent butterflies took to the sky, spinning and dancing as
safe holographic fireworks exploded over them.

Well, it’s a point of historical interest, as they’ve been
having the butterfly festival for over a hundred years. Get some culture,
you asshole. You need it more than you need to get laid
.

“What I need is a way around this mess.” Asher looked around at
the mass of people, made up mostly of children and old people gathered in
groups, each holding massive butterfly kites of their own. Some held remotes
that controlled the flight of the butterfly kites, both real and illusory.
Most of them, unfortunately, glittered and glowed the same primarily green
color that matched his mark’s hair.

Pinging your location, Vers purred in his ear after a moment of quiet while more and more people
filed onto the special moving sidewalk heading toward the restored MGM
Grand, singing and chanting as they moved.
Oh! You aren’t far from the New Bellagio. One of these days I’m
going to get you there for a real upgrade instead of the crap the powers
that be keep sending you to
.

“Vers –”

I mean it. You’re in a town right outside of Vegas, baby! Almost to
the cybernetic playground of the whole entire continent ever since the
redesign of the area. To get anything better you’d have to hop a
streaker across the Pacific to Japan. It’s amazing what they can do
with both artistry and circuitry
.

“Whatever the fuck,” Asher grumbled, casting his gaze around.
He ignored the small vibration in his brain as the ocular implant adjusted
and repositioned, sending his mind a feed of information calculating the
height of the buildings and the large vehicles passing by.

Turning to a small three-story building to his right, Asher took three
fast, bounding steps then flexed his leg muscles. With a mechanical whisper,
he launched himself skywards, a blurred silver flash through the backdrop of
colorful fluttering kites, before he landed on the flat solar tiles of the
roof.

Bent over, he raced along the edges of the closely placed buildings,
jumping the odd ones that bordered on alleys, leaping up to the higher ones,
his eyes constantly searching, feeding him data so he could adjust his
flight.

He was contemplating going back to the ground and following her along the
crowded streets when he saw a blur of green headed away from the celebration
and toward a small, dark street that led away from the sound of laughter and
merriment.

There, in between a closed toy shop on one side and ironically, an adult
toy shop, was where his prey was fleeing.

To the left, Casanova, Vers confirmed softly with the just the right amount of sarcasm for the
nickname.
And you better move swiftly. She’s about to head to a parking lot and
if she has her vehicle shielded, well, we are shit out of luck, Ash. If she
gets away, you’d be better off hitting a pleasure palace and getting
your freak on ‘cause that signal is going to be scattered and lost. And
I urge you to take advantage of the many wonderful and erotic amenities that
this run-down trash heap of a city provides. Besides, your cherry needs
plucking ‘cause that bitch is overripe
.

 

 

About the Authors

Stephanie Burke is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning
author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually
confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to
pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do
more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and
world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts,
an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing
cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied
legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female
characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and
multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice. 

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

Areana Senoj is a multi-genre writer of erotic romance, paranormal, and sci-fi fantasy
fiction. She’s been an actress, singer, dancer, educator, and, briefly, a stay-at-home
“tennis, soccer, and band mom,” as well as a small business entrepreneur. Now she’s
enjoying a new career living life as a full-time writer. She’s thrilled to join Changeling
Press, where she’s teamed up with USA Today Best Selling Author Stephanie Burke,
co-authoring Motherboards and Magic. 

Author’s Blog

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

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

 

 

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Hatter Teaser

Hatter banner

Hatter cover

Underland MC, Book One

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: July 19, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

 

 

Jo: I’d thought Eddie was sweet and charming, until I learned the
hard way his smile disguised the devil inside him. He speaks with his fists,
and there have been many times I wanted to die. When I finally manage to
escape, I vow to do whatever it takes to keep away from Eddie. But stepping
out in front of the Underland MC and begging for their help hadn’t
been part of my plan. Now that I’m with the Underland MC, I’m
not sure if I should trust them, even if their club president does make me
feel a bit weak in the knees. Will this be the best decision I ever made, or
end up being the one thing that finally kills me?

Hatter: Becoming a civilian after nearly two decades of military service
made me feel like I’d fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole, so my
brothers and I made the Underland MC. We didn’t have any grand plan.
Then Jo came into my life. The more I find out about her ex, the more I
realize things are rotten in the town of Warren, TN. This place is my home
now, and I not only want to protect Jo, but the townspeople as well. If that
means we’re going to war, then so be it. I’ve never backed down
from a challenge, and I won’t start now.

 

WARNING: Hatter is a contemporary suspense romance that is intended for
readers 18+. It contains bad language, adult situations, and violence. If
you’re looking for a light, fluffy romance, this isn’t it.

 

Hatter book

 

 

Excerpt

 

Hatter

 

“Cheshire, I said no strippers.” I glared at him, my eyes
narrowing into slits as I emphasized each word.

“Come on, Hatter. It’s just a bit of fun,” Cheshire
retorted, his trademark grin never faltering. He leaned back against the
worn chair across from my desk, seemingly unfazed by the intensity of our
discussion.

“Cheshire, this event isn’t about fun. We’re raising
funds for the local kids’ hospital. A bunch of naked girls shaking
their asses doesn’t fit in that picture.” My voice was hard and
unyielding, leaving no room for compromise.

“Fine, fine.” Cheshire held up his hands in mock surrender.
“No strippers. But we need some kind of entertainment. How about a
live band?”

“Band’s fine,” I conceded, rubbing my temples as I felt
the beginnings of a headache forming. These club events always gave me
migraines, but it was my job to make sure they went smoothly. While we
mostly kept to ourselves, at least twice a year we tried to do something for
the community.

“All right then.” Cheshire stood and leaned over the desk,
bracing his hands on top. “I’ll organize the band and take care
of all the other arrangements.”

“Make sure you do.” I stared at him, ensuring my message sank
in. “We can’t afford any screwups with this one.”

“Trust me, boss.” Cheshire winked. “Everything will be
perfect.”

“See to it.” My tone brooked no argument. As the president of
the Underland MC, it was my responsibility to make sure my club stayed out
of trouble and maintained a good image in Warren. The town had been good to
us, and it was important to give back. All right, so it hadn’t been
all sunshine and roses. Not at first. When we’d built this place and
moved in, everyone had thought we were criminals and treated us accordingly.
We’d worked hard to prove we were trustworthy and wouldn’t
destroy Warren.

When we’d first decided to start this club, it had taken weeks to
narrow down where we might want to live. It just so happened, the small town
of Warren, Tennessee, had the perfect plot of land for sale. Far enough from
big cities, we still felt like we were relaxing in the country, but close
enough to anything we’d need, like a grocery store or pharmacy.

Absolem had used his inheritance to buy the land, put up a fence, and build
a clubhouse. With the exception of times we wanted to make sure we
didn’t have people popping up, we’d leave the gates open. It
wasn’t like we had anything to hide. Each of us had a room here, and a
few more to spare. In addition to the men who’d created this place
with me, we’d gathered a few other lost souls along the way, each one
floundering after being discharged from the military, just like us. Tweedle
had been the first. He’d come home so badly broken I hadn’t
known if he’d make it. More than once, I’d worried he might
decide to put a bullet in his brain. Thankfully, being around the club had
helped him heal, even if he still had a long way to go. Knave and Mock had
been next, joining almost at the same time. And Carpenter had been the
last.

“All right.” Cheshire clapped his hands together, finally
taking things seriously. “Let’s get this show on the
road.”

“Damn right.” I nodded. “And let’s remember why
we’re doing this. It’s not just a party. It’s for those
kids.”

“Understood.” Cheshire saluted me, his grin returned to his
face as he turned to leave. “I won’t let you down.”

“See that you don’t,” I warned, watching him stride out
of the room. “Or you’ll be scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush
for a month.”

“Promises, promises.” Cheshire laughed from the doorway.
“I’ll get on it, Hatter. You can count on me.”

“Good,” I called after him, “because if this event goes
south, it isn’t just the club that’ll suffer. The whole damn
town will feel it too.”

The event might be adults only, but we’d charge a fee to enter the
compound for the night. Everyone would kick back with drinks, food, and
music. By the time we closed it down, I hoped we’d have a decent chunk
of change to help those kids.

“Understood.” Cheshire nodded once more before disappearing
into the hallway. I could only hope he’d take my words to heart.

“All right.” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Let’s get this done.”

The door slammed open, and in walked March, his eyes blazing with urgency.
He was all muscle and grit, an imposing figure who had seen more than his
fair share of shit. For that matter, we all had.

“Boss,” he said, getting straight to the point.
“We’ve got trouble.”

“Spit it out,” I demanded, my pulse racing as worry gnawed at
me. This was the last thing the club needed right now. We kept our noses
clean, paid taxes, and did our best to not draw attention to ourselves. So
what the hell could have happened?

“Rumblings from North Carolina.” March’s voice was low,
serious. “A rival MC’s been sniffing around our territory. Looks
like they’re planning something. And these assholes aren’t like
us. They’re into some nasty shit. If they get their hooks in Warren,
this place won’t be the same.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, my mind racing. “How close are
they?”

“Too damn close.” March growled. “They’ve been
spotted just outside town, and it isn’t a coincidence they picked
here.”

“All right,” I said, my brain shifting into high gear.
“We need a plan. We can’t let them jeopardize what we got going
on here, especially not now.”

“Agreed.” March nodded. “I’ve already put our boys
on alert, but we need to be ready for anything.”

“Good,” I said, my thoughts swirling like a tornado. “I
want you to gather intel, find out everything you can about their movements,
intentions, whatever. The more we know, the better prepared we’ll
be.”

“Roger that.” March saluted, his face set like stone. Some old
habits were harder to get rid of than others. “I won’t let them
get the drop on us.”

“See that you don’t,” I warned. “We’ve worked
too hard to let some wannabe tough guys tear us down.”

“Understood.” March gave a mock salute and turned to leave.
“I’ll report back as soon as I have something
solid.”

“Good,” I called after him. “And keep Cheshire in the
loop too. We need to stay united on this one.”

“Will do,” March replied, his steps echoing in the hall as he
left.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “Just when things
were starting to look up.”

I knew we had our work cut out for us. Our enemies were relentless, and any
sign of weakness would be like blood in the water. The club was my family,
and there was no way in hell I’d let anyone threaten what we’d
built together.

 

Hatter teaser

 

 

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, Patreon, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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

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