Category Archives: Teasers

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?

 

Ghosts teaser

Ghosts teaser 2

 

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

 

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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

 

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Morgue Teaser Tuesday

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 Morgue cover

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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Shifters' Sea cover

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

Website

Twitter

Blog

Goodreads

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Rebel Teaser Tuesday

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A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance

Savage Raptors MC, Book 5

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: May 24, 2024

 

 

Isy — Being the daughter of a Dixie Reaper isn’t as wonderful as it
sounds. Not when your dad expects you to be this perfect little princess who
never causes trouble, never dates, and just… sits on a shelf
collecting dust. It sucks. When I get the chance, I run. I didn’t
exactly have a destination in mind, but ending up in Bryson Corners turned
out to be a good thing. The first Savage Raptor I saw, I claimed. I should
feel bad for Rebel, but… he’s just so sexy, and now he’s
all mine!

Rebel — You know the saying be careful what you wish for? I should have
listened. I wanted a family and fate literally threw Isy into my arms.
I’d thought I was saving her. It never occurred to me she’d
announce she was my girlfriend. Although, I have to admit there’s
chemistry between us. It’s hard to keep my hands off her. I’d
thought the kidnap attempt was a one-time thing, but I was wrong. Isy has a
stalker, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. She’s mine,
and I’ll make damn sure everyone knows it!

 

WARNING: Rebel is an insta-love story intended for adult readers. It
contains violence, stalking, bad language, and adult situations.

 

Rebel tablet

 

 

EXCERPT

Rebel

The scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke clung to the air, setting the
perfect tone for a typical night at the Savage Raptors MC clubhouse. I sat
perched on a worn-out barstool, nursing my drink and taking in the rowdy
chaos around me. The clubhouse was alive with the sounds of laughter,
cursing, and the clinking of glass as my brothers let off some steam.

I could have gone to a bar in town, but the beer here was free. Sort of.
The club treasurer took a percentage of the club take for any jobs and
funneled it over to an account used for stocking the bar. Even though we
hadn’t had a lot of runs lately, we’d picked up two local
businesses. Bought them cheap when they were about to close up, so now we
had a gas station and a honky-tonk. Both brought in good revenue.

I wasn’t much for country music, so I avoided the honky-tonk unless I
had no other options. It was always lively. Lots of pretty girls there too.
Unfortunately for me, I apparently looked more like the good-time guy than
boyfriend material, because they only ever wanted one night. There were
times that was perfectly fine. Most of the time I was looking for something
else. Not that I’d admitted as much to anyone.

“Fuck yeah, man!” Stinger shouted from across the room, landing
a winning shot on the pool table. Ever since Atilla decided to follow the
Dixie Reapers’ example and ban club whores from the compound, our
clubhouse had changed quite a bit. Of course, we were a smaller club, so
we’d never been as rowdy anyway.

Now, instead of women, we had a pool table, dartboard, and a poker table. I
had to admit, I much preferred it this way. The women who came here were
nothing but trouble. Although, Truth had kept them in line before.
He’d disliked most females, and certainly hadn’t respected them,
until he met his wife. He’d changed a lot since Madison came into his
life. They’d even adopted a son, which mellowed Truth even more.

When he’d wanted to claim Madison, I’d thought for sure Atilla
would tell him no. The way he’d always treated women, he was the last
one I’d expected to settle down. Now my brothers were all falling, one
after another. We’d gone from all being bachelors to four of us having
families.

I couldn’t help but crack a smile at my brothers’ antics as I
watched them. We were a family — a ragtag group of misfits bound together
by brotherhood and loyalty. But beneath the camaraderie and wild nights,
something gnawed at me, leaving me restless and itching for more. It
wasn’t precisely a new feeling, but one that was steadily growing with
each passing month. It started a few years ago, and clearly wasn’t
going away.

“Nice shot, Stinger!” I called out, raising my own bottle in a
toast before taking another swig. My gaze drifted around the room. Even
though I sat by myself, I wasn’t alone. Not here.

General and Spade were locked in an intense arm-wrestling match, veins
bulging and sweat pouring down their faces as they strained against each
other. A few brothers had gathered around them, placing bets on who would
emerge victorious.

“Come on, Spade, you got this!” someone yelled, egging him on
with a slap to his back.

“Fuck that, General’s gonna wipe the floor with his ass!”
another voice countered, earning a snarl from Spade. Yeah, probably not the
brightest idea to piss off the club’s VP. Whoever had made the comment
was most likely going to get the shit jobs for a while. Or forced to scrub
toilets both here and at our businesses.

I’d been living this life for years — the booze, the bikes, the
women — but it all felt so hollow now. Like I was missing the one thing
that would make it all worthwhile. I still hooked up with women sometimes,
but not recently. In fact, I hadn’t been with anyone in over three
months. I always got tested afterward, just to be safe. Being with random
women wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Even a condom wasn’t
foolproof.

The feeling I’d had wasn’t one I’d been able to label
until recently. Helping out Cowboy’s son, Jackson, in the past few
weeks had certainly made an impact on me. He’d been willing to do
anything for his wife and kid, and it had taken me a few days to realize I
was jealous as hell. I’d had no reason to be, until I came to the
conclusion the restless feeling inside me was because I wanted a family of
my own. Not just a brotherhood, but a wife and kids.

“Hey, Rebel!” Stinger called out, snapping me from my thoughts.
“You want in on the next game?”

“Maybe later,” I replied, tossing him a grin before taking
another swig of my beer. My mind refused to let go of the thought there
should be more to life than this — something deeper, more meaningful. And I
was determined to find it, whatever the cost. Not that the town of Bryson
Corners was crawling with women I’d want to claim for more than a
night. If it was, they’d all given me a wide berth. Maybe I
wasn’t the kind of man they thought would want a lasting relationship.
I needed someone who could handle living with the club, accept this way of
life. Some might think it sounded amazing, but the reality would most likely
send them running at some point.

My gaze drifted across the clubhouse, finally landing on Lynx and Atilla,
who were seated nearby, beers in hand, deep in conversation.

“Man, I never thought I’d see the day when Grizzly would let
his daughter be part of our world,” Atilla chuckled, taking a swig
from his bottle. As the President of our club, he’d never backed down
from a challenge, and always kept us in line. “It’s too bad
he’s not here to see how much progress Meredith has made. She’s
almost like a different woman these days. May Grizzly’s soul rest in
peace!”

“I honestly thought he’d lose his shit and demand I send her
home,” Lynx said, running a hand through his reddish hair as he
smiled. “But Meredith’s been a true blessing in my life.
Wouldn’t trade her for anything. We have a good life here, and I hope
he’s watching over her and sees that she’s right where she
belongs.”

“Damn straight,” Atilla replied, raising his bottle in a toast.
“To love and brotherhood.”

The genuine smiles spread across their faces struck a chord within me.
There was a depth to their happiness I had yet to find in my own
experiences. It gnawed at me, a hunger no amount of drink or late-night
escapades could satisfy. Family. What those two had with their women was
more than I’d ever thought to have for myself. Except now, I wanted it
more than anything. I was only in my thirties, and I knew a lot of brothers
my age who weren’t ready to settle down. Some would say I still had my
entire life ahead of me, but why spend all those years alone? Easy pussy
wasn’t as satisfying as it had been a decade ago.

“Rebel, you all right?” Lynx called out, noticing my stare. I
hadn’t realized how long I’d been watching them.

“Uh, yeah. Just thinking,” I said, offering a half-hearted
grin. “Guess I zoned out for a minute.”

“Careful, brother. Don’t wanna strain that little brain of
yours,” Atilla teased, his laughter echoing through the room as Lynx
joined in.

“Fuck off, old man!” I shot back. Thankfully, he knew I was
joking, otherwise the Pres would have put me on my ass.

I couldn’t help but envy their camaraderie. I’d noticed those
who had settled down with a woman and kids seemed closer than ever before.
It made me feel left out.

“Seriously, though,” Lynx continued, his expression sobering,
“if you ever need someone to talk to, we’re here for you. Looked
like you had something heavy weighing on your mind.”

“Appreciate it,” I replied, giving them a nod. But as their
laughter resumed and they dove back into their conversation, my thoughts
continued to churn. If I was going to find a woman around here, I would have
by now. I’d lived in Bryson Corners most of my life. But unless I ran
into her on a run to another city or state, it wasn’t likely I’d
have the chance to search for my one and only. Not anytime soon.

My eyes flicked back to Lynx and Atilla, the sight of their contentment
only deepening my desire for something more. And as the noise and chaos of
the clubhouse washed over me, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t settle
for anything less. I needed to find that missing piece, the connection that
would make my life complete.

Lynx’s phone went off, and he stood to go outside to answer.
He’d only been gone a few minutes before he returned, his face pale
and his hands clenched into fists. I wondered what the call had been about,
but I wasn’t going to pry. He sat down and leaned closer to Atilla.
Whatever he’d said made Atilla check his phone as well. The Pres let
out a curse and disappeared down the hall to his office.

As curious as I was, I knew if it was anything club related, I’d find
out eventually. I only hoped it wasn’t anything too bad. With the way
Lynx looked, I knew it wasn’t good news, though.

As the night wore on, I slouched on my barstool, arms braced on the bar top
in front of me. I twisted my empty beer bottle, trying not to feel sorry for
myself. No one had approached me so far. Probably thought I was drunk off my
ass, and honestly, I was getting close. How many beers had I had already?
I’d lost count.

“Another round?” Benjamin asked. The Prospect held out a bottle
toward me, and I nodded. He popped the top and handed it over.

“Rebel, you ever think about settling down?” The question came
from Ace, our newest member, who sat two barstools down from me. His eyes
sparkled with mischief, and I wondered if he was about to try setting me up
with a stripper or some stranger he’d just met. Wouldn’t be the
first time. He’d done it to every single man here at one point or
another. Last time he’d tried it with me, she’d been a no-show.
I counted myself lucky.

Poor Knuckles had ended up with a stripper who’d been high as a kite.
He’d caught her shooting up during their date and walked out. Good
thing too since she’d OD’d later that night. If Knuckles had
been with her at the time, the police would have given us hell. Last thing
we wanted was a spotlight on us.

“Me? Nah, not my style, man,” I replied dismissively, unwilling
to share my true thoughts with anyone just yet. I knew my brothers would
give me shit if I admitted I wanted a wife and kids more than
anything.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled. “You’re older than me
but still young. Plenty of time for that I guess.”

“What about you?” I asked. “Since you brought it up, do
you have your eye on someone? Or were you just trying to unload some
unwanted attention?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No, to both, but I have to admit,
Atilla, Lynx, Maui, and Truth all look pretty content these days. Makes me
wonder if they’ve figured out the secret to happiness.”

“Hey, Rebel,” a sultry voice whispered in my ear, snapping me
out of my reverie. I glanced over to see Raven, a dark-haired beauty who
frequented the club, sliding her hand up my thigh. When the hell had she
gotten here? “Wanna have some fun?”

She wasn’t a club whore, and never had been. Which was why Atilla
allowed her to come to the clubhouse sometimes. However, she had a tendency
to hang out with a few of my brothers and seemed to worm her way into this
place on occasion. Like now. I didn’t know why she kept targeting me,
but she wasn’t my type. Too high maintenance.

I’d be willing to bet it took her over an hour to get ready every
day. I’d seen her around town often enough to know she fixed her hair
and makeup like this all the time. Had to admit I wondered what she’d
look like fresh out of the shower, but I doubted she’d ever let
someone see her like that.

“Thanks, Raven, but not tonight,” I muttered, brushing her hand
away. Her pout did little to entice me. The move was too practiced.

“Suit yourself,” she huffed, stalking off to find another
willing participant for her games. Of course, there was always the chance
she was angling for a property patch. If that was the case, she’d be
better off trying to con Stinger into taking her.

“Damn, Rebel. You turning down Raven?” Ace whistled, his
eyebrows raised in surprise. “You must be going soft. I know the two
of you have hung out a few times. Not to your taste anymore?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled, taking a swig of my beer,
welcoming the bitter taste. I’d played pool with her twice, and on a
night I’d been too drunk to stand up straight, I’d fucked her in
the bathroom. No one wanted to let me forget it either.

I’d always been fiercely loyal to my brothers, but as the night wore
on, the truth became clear: I needed something more — someone who saw
beyond the leather and tattoos, who could fill the void inside me. And until
I found her, I felt like I’d never truly be whole.

 

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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