Tag Archives: Motorcycle Club Romance

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | July 23, 2024 · 5:08 am

Mama & Pops Preorder Blitz

Bones MC Legends, Book One

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: 7/26/24

Publisher: Changeling Press

Somerset, Kentucky. My home. Or it was. Coming back from Nam was a
friggin’ shock. No one wanted us there, but no one really wants us
back here, either. In their eyes, we’re all guilty. Guess I feel the
same way about them. I don’t belong anywhere. Maybe I never really
did.

Except with Mama. For me, meeting Mama was like a dime novel. Fell for her
almost the moment I laid eyes on her. Knew she’d be mine after our
first kiss. Of course, convincing her took a little time. But it’s
because of Mama I have a home and people I care about now. I may be a badass
soldier, but she’s the hardest, coldest warrior I ever met. Yet she
has more compassion in her than any ten people I know.

This is the story of how Bones MC was born, and why Mama and me keep to the
shadows. Since we met, we’ve always had each other’s backs. No
one knows all our secrets, not even those closest to us. Other people have
come and gone in our lives, but it’s always been me and Mama. This is
our story.

Excerpt

Sgt. Michael (Mike) Wilbanks

Louisville, Kentucky, 1968

“This right here is some happy horseshit.”

I glanced at the woman beside me who spoke in a low, wistful tone.
She’d been on the same plane as I had coming from San Francisco.
Though the bag she carried had an Army medical insignia, she’d dressed
in street clothes. There was a hard look about her that I’d seen many
times during my tours in Vietnam. We hadn’t spoken during the flight,
but she was hard not to notice.

She looked to be in her mid to late twenties, carrying herself with the
confidence of a warrior. My eye had been drawn her way automatically from
the moment she’d stepped on the plane. I’d pegged her as the
most dangerous person on the plane — other than myself. Looking at her now,
I was reevaluating that notion. The woman might be even more dangerous than
I was.

“One’d think those people had jobs to go to.” I
wasn’t sure if that was the “happy horseshit” she was
referring to, but I chose to make it about the protesters. I’d
encountered groups like this in every fucking airport I’d stopped in
on my way back. To say I was spoiling for a fight was the understatement of
the fucking century.

“One would think.” The woman didn’t look my way or seem
interested in conversation. Instead, she was scanning the crowd. Not like
she was looking for someone in particular, though. I’d seen that look
many times. She was looking for a threat. VC on the trail!

I shook my head, shaking away the memory. The war wasn’t over yet,
but it was for me. “You expecting trouble?” Her vigilance — and
my own demons — had my radar pinging.

“Always.”

I had travel plans, but there was something about the woman that made me
walk beside her through the Louisville terminal instead of making my way to
my own gate. She was tall, maybe five-ten, with shoulder-length
strawberry-blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off lean,
muscular arms. Everything about her screamed confidence, strength, and
control. I’d met a few Army nurses who had similar looks about them,
but this woman was different. She carried herself with purpose, her duffle
slung over her shoulder like my own. Like she was on a mission and no one
was going to stop her, even if she had to kill to get them out of her way.
She didn’t speak again or acknowledge me, but she didn’t tell me
to back off, either.

The terminal wasn’t particularly crowded, though there might have
been a hundred people in the area. All I wanted to do was secure the bike
I’d procured the second I’d gotten back to the States and
fucking ride. I’d been offered a chance to join an MC called Iron
Tzars, but I wasn’t sure they were really my thing. Their causes were
noble and any killing they did wasn’t indiscriminate, but I’d
had my fill of death in country. Even for those who needed killing.

Boom!

A shot rang out and all around us people screamed, ducking for cover.

Boom!

A nearby window shattered as the round hit, sending glass shattering to the
floor and the concrete outside. I scanned the crowd for the shooter before
glancing where I knew the woman had stood. Same as me, she was looking
around for the shooter. I saw the exact moment she spotted him. Her features
hardened and she looked angry as fuck as she squatted next to me, behind the
nearby counter. “Fucker’s military.”

“Can’t say I blame him given the reception we got when we
landed. Wouldn’t be my first choice of things to do,
though.”

Her gaze went to mine. “You any good in a fight?”

I shrugged. “Good as any, I guess. Ain’t armed.”

She shook her head. “Me neither.”

“Got a plan?” If she didn’t, I’d come up with one,
but this woman looked like she’d been expecting trouble and knew how
to deal with it. If she knew the soldier in question or had known this was
going to happen, she’d have a plan. I’d follow her lead until
she proved she didn’t know what she was doing. One thing I’d
learned in Nam was that often it wasn’t the most educated man or the
highest-ranking officer who could get you out alive.

“He’s not aiming at anyone in particular. I’ll talk to
him. See if I can get him to surrender peacefully. You position yourself
behind him and be ready.” She gave me a pointed look.
“I’ll be counting on you to take him down before he shoots
me.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Maybe I better try to talk to
him.”

She gave me an exasperated huff. “Do you honestly think I can take
him down myself? I’m strong, but he’s easily twice my
size.”

“You ain’t makin’ this easy, woman.”

“What’s so fuckin’ difficult about it?”

Her scowl was hard enough to trigger my well-trained instincts. I wanted to
snap a salute and bark out, Yes, sir!

“Be ready. Take him down if he looks like he’s gonna shoot me
or anyone else.” She tilted her head, giving me a puzzled stare.
“You ain’t got battle fatigue, do you? You don’t act like
you’ve had all you can take.”

“No. I’m good.” I scrubbed a hand over my face.
“Just don’t like puttin’ a woman out front to use as bait.
I should be the one takin’ the risks.”

“Well, I mean, if you want to risk your life when he’ll
probably be able to shake me off the second I go for him, fine by me. But I
trust you in that regard more than you should trust me. The odds of you
gettin’ killed are way higher than me.”

I stared at her until another boom went off followed almost immediately by
another window shattering. “You’re gonna give me all kinds of
fuckin’ trouble, ain’t you?”

She grinned. “Trouble’s my middle name. Get in position.
I’ll wait until you’re behind him.” She pointed at the
barrier next to the stairs and I saw where she meant.

“Yeah, that’s where I thought I’d wait. I’ll let
you know when I’m ready.”

We stared at each other hard for a moment before she spoke.
“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Sergeant Michael Wilbanks. At least, that was my rank when I was
discharged.”

“Honorable?” She raised an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes and pointed at my Army issue fatigues. “Of course.
Still wearin’ the uniform, ain’t I? Re-upped after my initial
tour. Not this time, though. Had enough of the killin’.”

She nodded. “Dr. Josephine Peyton, Captain, US Army. Or I was. You
can call me Jo. I got a four-six-one discharge for ‘inadequate
personality’ ‘cause I told a general touring our field hospital
to suck my dick when he said the men in my ward were sacrificed for the
greater good, then couldn’t tell me what the fucking greater good
was.”

I couldn’t contain my bark of laughter. “Promise me, when this
is over, you’ll let me take you out on a date.”

Josephine smirked. “Well, I guess that depends on whether
you’re able to take this guy down or not. I won’t go out with a
pussy.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

She shrugged. “If it gets this guy to stop shootin’ the place
up, take it however you like.”

Another boom broke the moment. People screamed all around us, but the only
person I saw was Jo and her pale blue eyes. Before I could think too much
about it, I leaned in and wrapped my hand around the back of her neck,
pulling her in for a hard kiss.

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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Tagged as Mama & Pops, Marteeka Karland, Motorcycle Club Romance

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | July 15, 2024 · 5:00 am

Hatter Teaser

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.

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.

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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Tagged as Harley Wylde, Hatter, Motorcycle Club Romance

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | July 8, 2024 · 5:00 am

Bear Preorder Blitz

A Bones MC Romance

Grim Road MC, Book 5

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: July 12, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

Olivia: I’ve been sent to infiltrate Grim Road — specifically
looking for any information to do with the man they call Bear. I
didn’t expect to jump into the man’s arms on the first try. I
also didn’t expect to feel an illogical sense of belonging and safety
when he whispered in my ear, “You’re safe.” My deception
will probably get me killed. I’m not a damsel in distress, at least
not how they think. But I think Bear knows I’m lying. He just
doesn’t seem to care.

Bear: Yeah, I know the girl’s lyin’. I also happen to believe
she has a good reason. If I can get her to trust me, then I can make her
demons disappear. But trust is hard-earned. Even if I earn hers, can I trust
her after she started out with lies? Do I really care if she’s lying
as long as she’s mine? Trouble’s following this girl. And
it’s headed straight to Grim Road.

WARNING: Bear 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.

EXCERPT

Bear

I hated venturing out into the city. Always made me feel like there was a
target on my fucking back. My true identity was buried so deep even facial
recognition software couldn’t find me, but since I’d been in my
twenties, I’d spent my life running. The government saw to that.

What I thought was a service to help my country turned into a killing spree
on the order of genocide. I’d disobeyed my orders but ended up on a
Terminate with Extreme Prejudice list. Rocket, the closest person I had to a
friend, had brought me to Riviera Beach, Florida, where I’d taken up
with the motorcycle club, Grim Road. The club’s history was long and
distinguished in hiding men like me. I’d been here ever since.

It was nearly midnight on a Saturday. The streets weren’t exactly
teaming, but several bars were open, which was where most people were this
time of night. Some headed home. Others milled about enjoying the evening
air. It wasn’t cool by any means, but the night brought in a breeze
from the ocean that wasn’t stifled by the heat of the sun during the
day. This was my favorite part of the night.

“You lookin’ for somethin’ in particular or just
wishin’ you could go back and change your life choices?” Ringo,
our enforcer, sidled up next to me, handing me a beer.

“Thanks,” I said as I popped the top and took a long swig.
“Just thinkin’. Ain’t much for bein’ out of the
compound.”

“Oh, I know. Which is why I followed.” The other man gave me a
half smirk, half smile.

“Right. That, and Lemon probably told you to have my
back.”

He chuckled. “Little witch is certainly big on that kinda shit. But
no. You’ll be happy to know I did this all on my own.”

I gave him a side eye. “Really. You tryin’ to keep me honest?
Afraid I’m out to betray the club?”

Instantly, Ringo’s whole demeanor changed. “Hey, now. Jumping
to conclusions there, Bear?” Ringo raised an eyebrow. “Of all
the men in this club, you’d be the last one I’d accuse of
betraying the club or anyone in it. Fully expected Rocket to make you his
VP. I’d have supported that.”

I snorted. “No way in fuckin’ hell I want that job. Besides,
Lemon is much better suited.”

“Ain’t sayin’ she’s not. Just sayin’ I was
surprised when Rocket didn’t put your name in the hat for the job long
before Lemon came on the scene.”

The two of us headed down the sidewalk. Kind of felt like we were
patrolling the area. There were several bars and clubs here, and some of
them weren’t altogether safe. A couple times a week, I’d taken
to walking up and down the strip. I wouldn’t say I was looking for
trouble, but I wasn’t opposed to stopping trouble if it found me. The
self-imposed job got me out of the compound as well as extended some measure
of protection to the community which pleased the VP to no end. I
wouldn’t exactly call the city our community, but I got the impression
that’s what Lemon wanted it to be. Crush and Byte worked continually
to strengthen all our identity covers. Rocket wasn’t opposed, so I
took this as my due diligence. I was doing my part, however quietly, to set
an example to the other members. It’s how I did things.

“He offered.” I shrugged. “Not my thing.”

“Oh, really.” The bastard smirked and I wanted to beat the shit
outta him, but restrained myself. Barely. “Was that before or after
you corralled us all and put the idea of voting Lemon in as VP, or
after?”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna do it. Someone had to, and she was the
best choice. You look me in the eye and tell me who else in Grim would be
doing a better job than Lemon, and I’ll volunteer that
bastard.”

Ringo chuckled. “Right. I’ll get on that. But you have to
promise you’ll be the one to break the news to Lemon.”

I snorted. “Not on your fuckin’ life. Girl might be small and
young, but she’s vicious like no man I’ve ever met. You tell her
your own Goddamn self.”

We stared at each other a moment before Ringo’s lips twitched. Once
that happened, we both broke down into chuckles. Neither of us would be
suggesting a replacement for Lemon.

The conversation eased something inside me. Like I knew Ringo had my back
or something where always before I’d kind of felt like I was on my own
in the middle of a crowd. Yeah, I knew if I were really in trouble, outside
of a mission, I could count on my brothers. Always had. But it was different
now.

“Thanks, man. I think I needed that.”

“For what? The reminder that a little five-foot-nothing girl is
making a better vice president than you?”

I snorted. “No, dumbass. The laugh.”

Ringo grinned. “Wait till I tell Lemon you were wanting to replace
her.”

“Whoa. Not cool, bro. Besides, it was you who brought it up. And I
will totally throw you under the bus if you start that
bullshit.”

God, it felt good to banter with Ringo. I’d had that kind of
atmosphere a couple of times on jobs for the CIA, but it was never as
relaxed as it was now.

I took a deep breath and rolled my head on my shoulders, easing some of the
tension that always seemed to be there when I ventured too far from the
compound. It wasn’t that I was scared. It was more like I felt like
someone was watching. Just waiting to make a move.

I could handle myself in an ambush. Fuck knew I’d been in that
situation before and had come out on the other side. Worse for wear maybe,
but the other guys fared far, far worse. Always.

Ringo snorted. “Glad to be of service, brother.”

We continued down the street. The sound of people partying or generally
having a good time filled the night. Each time we passed a bar, the scent of
alcohol hit us. Occasionally someone would be smoking a joint or a cigarette
and those scents would blend in as well. Passing a strip joint brought the
cheap perfume into the mix.

I was about to suggest we go inside one of the strip clubs, just to pass
the time with something different when I spotted a woman making her way down
the sidewalk. Something about the way she moved was just that little bit
off. She glanced behind her, then straight ahead. She hesitated, then
continued moving.

“What’s goin’ on there?” I asked the question more
to myself than to Ringo, but the other man zeroed in on the woman
immediately.

“Not sure. Could be she’s just lost.”

“Right,” I agreed, though I wasn’t so sure. Something
about her posture wasn’t right. “Could be.”

“Uh-huh.”

We both continued forward but at a slower pace. Grim Road MC wasn’t a
secret club, per se. The club was known to the locals, just not where the
clubhouse was or who any of us were beyond our road names. To everyone
around us, we were simply another motorcycle club in the area around Palm
Beach. As such, we wore our colors proudly. So, when the girl got closer to
us, and we slowed down, we wanted her to know what we were.

I stopped while Ringo turned slowly around in a circle with his hands out,
letting her see the emblem on the back of his vest proclaiming him a member
of Grim Road.

She let loose a little sob and ran the rest of the way to us. To my
complete and utter shock, instead of stopping when she reached us, the girl
threw herself into my arms, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck.

And I’ll be Goddamned if my whole body didn’t come alive. Lust
I’d never even dreamed about punched me in the dick before sucking me
into its mouth and making me hard as a fucking pole. The scent of her was
like something out of a dream. Fresh spring flowers and a dash of cinnamon.
She was slender, but I could feel every single one of her slight curves
against my big body. She was so small I could easily wrap my arms all the
way around her with room to spare. Unfortunately, instead of moaning and
finding my mouth with hers, she trembled in my arms. I didn’t think it
was from desire. Her mouth at my ear was a sinful promise. Until she
spoke.

“Angela,” she whimpered. “I need Angela.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said loudly. “Missed you,
too.” I chuckled, swinging her around happily. What I was really doing
was putting my body between her and the two men I now saw following
her.

I didn’t acknowledge the men. Instead, I strode down the sidewalk
with her still in my arms. Ringo had my back. If he couldn’t
discourage the guys, I could get her far enough away she could get inside to
the relative safety of a bar or club. Then, I’d help Ringo help these
motherfuckers have themselves an accident.

When I rounded the corner with her, I set her on her feet, but kept hold of
her hand. Everything inside me rebelled at the separation. I wanted to pull
her solidly against me again but needed to make sure I had one hand free if
Ringo needed me. Stepping from behind the wall, I eyed Ringo. He stood where
I’d left him, but the men were already gone. Ringo took slow looks
around the area as he backed toward me. I gave a low whistle, and Ringo
turned and hurried in my direction.

“Get to the bikes.” Ringo’s order was delivered in a
crisp voice. “They didn’t keep following after you picked her
up. You spoke and they backed off. Still don’t want to take a
chance.”

“To Knox’s place?” I knew we couldn’t take her to
the compound. Not without precautions. If the guys had truly backed off, she
wasn’t in immediate danger. If they hadn’t, we’d
reevaluate when we spotted them.

Ringo nodded. “I’ll be on your six. Just gonna let Rocket know
what’s goin’ on and that we’ll call him when we know
more.”

I grunted, but tugged her with me and hurried to my bike.

About the Author

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

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

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by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | June 11, 2024 · 5:00 am

Morgue Teaser Tuesday

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.

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

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

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

Pre-Order Today

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by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | May 29, 2024 · 5:00 am

Kit-Kat Preorder Blitz

(Maw of Mayhem MC)

Paranormal, Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: May 31, 2024

Grimdarke James’ problems have gone from bad to worse. Ousted from
his MC and on the run, all he wants is to keep Kit safe while he sets things
right. But calling in a favor drops more than trouble into his lap.

As he tries to salvage what’s left of the Maw of Mayhem, forces close
in on them and tensions rise. New allies are found and old loyalties are put
to the test. So is Grim’s relationship with Kit when someone from his
past tries to come between them.

Kit doesn’t share and the threat to her position as Grim’s mate
raises her hackles. With her heat triggered, she’s running on instinct
and battle lines are drawn. Can Grim win back his MC, and prove he’s
the man for her, or will he lose it all?

EXCERPT

Grim stalked out of the break room, riffling his hair. How the fuck had
everything gone to shit so fast? He blew the messy locks from his face and
frowned, glancing around the garage —

And did a double take at the trio of bikes by the bay door. Brick and
Wrench’s hogs, and Grim’s Bobber. How had that made it out of
the city? Holy — He stumbled over to them, not quite believing his bike was
really there. One of the crew must’ve ridden it out of the garage
before the club blew, which meant Stitch had left his down there.

Christ, he’d abandoned his own bike to snag the Bobber? A lump gummed
up Grim’s throat. You only did that kind of shit for your alpha.

He swallowed, gritting his teeth and hating himself. How much of this
clusterfuck could he have avoided if he’d just sucked it the fuck up
and owned the position after Clay’s murder?

Guess he’d never know.

Grim blinked, his eyes hot. Fingers trailing down the leather seat.
Listening to the click and ping of the engine cooling. Avoiding the rest of
the crew packing up. He frowned, guilt eating at him, his stomach a fucking
mess. Staring at the bathroom door, willing it to open.

For Kit to come out on two legs.

Come on, baby… Hands down, she was his priority, but Jesus fuck, the
rest of the crew depended on him, too, and they all needed to get gone.
Clay’s refusal to take a mate abruptly made more sense than Grim
wanted it to. Some part of that equation was gonna get fucked, and
he’d be damned if it was gonna be Kit unless she was squarely on his
dick.

Kat say anything else to you? he asked his cat.

— no. fighting with Kit —

Grim grunted, the angst of having to choose between his mate and his club
landing a gut punch of shame. Christ, he knew what that was like. Being at
odds with your beast. The terror of feeling trapped inside yourself, of
sinking down so fucking deep you didn’t know if you could come
back.

[CHAGRIN]

— different —

Same, Grim snapped. Shit was close enough, less the cuffs. He rubbed at the
scars on his wrists, the lines of ink blurred and broken. The memory of the
snick of silver setting his teeth on edge. That creeping, seeping burn
infecting his veins with its poison.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. Yeah, he knew how it felt, and granted,
he wasn’t keeping her there, but he’d sent Kit on that downward
spiral by pushing her to change. Jesus, he was a piece of shit. A sad laugh
slid from his lips.

But fuck, that’s what everyone thought anyway, wasn’t it? The
media, the rest of Mayhem… Mama Roe sure as hell did, and he was
about to go kiss her fucking —

Grim’s breath caught as the bathroom door swung open and Kit strode
out, looking classy as fuck and like the last person he should be with.
Triss dropped the crap she was packing into the cage’s trunk and ran
over to hug her.

Christ, he wanted to do the same… but, damn. Grim wet his lips. Kit
wasn’t… Damn. She was wearing that soft sweater he’d
snagged from the vamp queen’s trophy closet. Shit was fucking sinful
the way it hung off her shoulders and clung to her tits. The jeans
she’d been so crazy about did the same to her hips, a sliver of her
flat stomach flashing as she raised her arms to hug the girl back. And when
Triss skipped away, and Kit turned toward the cages?

Woman was a fucking goddess.

Grim bit back a groan at the way her long black hair dusted her ass as she
bent to put her bag in the trunk. She looked like a million fucking bucks,
which was easily nine hundred ninety-nine thousand and change above his pay
grade.

— ours —

The pang in Grim’s chest echoed the truth of that statement. Maybe he
didn’t deserve her now, but he’d fucking bust his ass until he
did. If she still wants us. His throat bobbed at the possibility she
wouldn’t after what he’d done to her.

— asked to shift —

Yeah, but the idea of being a shifter versus the reality of it were two
very different things, and Grim’d only known Kit for a hot fucking
minute. When they’d met, she’d been so damned adamant she
didn’t want to change.

— Reaper decided for her —

Grim’s knuckles whitened. And he’s gonna die for it. Darke
chuffed in agreement.

A growl welled up in Grim’s throat, his eyes narrowing.

Asorav had ended his call and wrapped his hand around Kit’s arm,
pulling her off to the side. He spoke to her adamantly in hushed tones in
the next bay.

— listen? —

Yeah. Grim stepped back into the shadows, his hearing sharpening.

Kit was smiling up at the vamp like he’d caught her at something. She
was trying to play it off as he was talking. “…understand the
temptation to eavesdrop on one’s elders, but strongly suggest you
resist the urge.” Asorav looped her arm through his, and a muscle in
Grim’s jaw twitched at the asshole’s familiarity with her.

— known her longer —

Don’t remind me, Grim muttered. He still couldn’t believe Kit
had been the Darkling’s dog walker.

“There are those that do not take kindly to such invasions of
privacy,” the vamp scolded.

Kit’s eyes widened, her pupils waffling —

Grim did a double take. Shit, did I really see that? Aside from the mirror,
he’d never seen anyone else’s flip between theirs and their
beast’s.

— did. Kat’s scared. Won’t talk —

He bit back a growl. Was that fucking right?

“Which is why you’re only getting a warning.” The vamp
patted her hand like some kind of benevolent fucking uncle. Grim’s lip
curled, knowing that grift all too well. He was gonna beat the shit outta
—

“Vampires really can read minds?” Kit squeaked. “I
thought –”

Wait, what? Grim froze.

“Yes and no,” Asorav said. “Your compatriots’
thoughts are closed to me, but it seems you and I share an affinity.”
The asshole chuckled. “Yes, it surprised me as well. However, after
Cecelia –”

“I want to know what you meant when you said she was
elsewhere.”

Asorav sighed, and Grim had to smirk at Kit’s indignation over the
MIA Pomeranian. “I don’t totally understand it,” the vamp
said, “but I believe she’s trapped somewhere between.
It’s… the place one goes to get from here to there. I’m
afraid I can’t explain it any better than that. She wasn’t
strong enough to anchor my form at this end, and when I pulled, she was
sucked in.”

Well, that sounded like total bullshit, but Grim supposed the prick
couldn’t admit to killing the thing. In either case, Kit sounded like
she bought it.

“Because she was your heart. Aryanna told me you were a
day-walker.”

“Did she now.”

Grim scratched his stubble, wondering how much of an issue that was gonna
be. Vampires were enough of a pain in the ass at night. One lurking around
24/7 didn’t exactly give him the warm fuzzies, but then again, this
conversation didn’t either.

“… mentioned you couldn’t be, um, de-animated, without
your heart.” Kit said, rubbing her arms like she was cold.
“Don’t worry, she’s not around anymore to note it in the
queen’s memoir.”

Asorav laughed, and Grim wanted to smash his fist through the vamp’s
fangs. “How delightful. I never could understand how Aryanna abided
that vitriolic shrew. I’m only sorry I wasn’t there to see it,
but suppose that’s neither here nor there, and you, my dear, most
certainly are. She told you, then, of my Maker’s triumph?”

Kit nodded like she was humoring him. Grim rolled his eyes. Fucking vamps
had sticks shoved up their asses almost as far as the witches. Christ, they
were pretentious fucks.

“It’s a metaphor, you know,” Asorav said. “She
wasn’t my heart; she had my heart. The spell transformed the physical
organ and created a bridge, tying our life forces to those we held dearest.
It was genius, really. Love is such a fickle thing, and given a
vampire’s lifespan, in most cases, transfers quite organically before
the object of our affection dies… or is lost, in this
case.”

He pulled a wide, platinum bracelet from his pocket, studded with what Grim
was positive were diamonds, and closed Kit’s fingers around it. The
fuck? “And it seems once again, my heart has been captured by another.
I assure you, I am aware this is most inconvenient, but, as I said, the
heart wants what the heart wants, now, doesn’t it?”

Grim bared his teeth, knuckles white as he clenched his fists. Had that
motherfucker just given Kit a fucking king’s ransom in jewelry and
told her he loved her?

— no, his heart —

I don’t give a fuck, she’s MINE.

About the Author

AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives
up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a
certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when
she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up
camo Chucks. Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to
become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time. AK pays
the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She
belongs to the Authors Guild, is an RWA chapter board member, volunteers for
far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion,
sleeps.

Contact Links

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

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