Category Archives: Teasers

by | June 3, 2025 · 5:00 am

The Apache Kid Teaser

The Apache Kid banner

The Apache Kid cover

ARMY APACHE SCOUT (The Apache Kid Chronicles-Volume 1)

 

Fiction / Indigenous / Historical Fiction / Native American

Date Published: 06-03-2015

Publisher: Hat Creek

 

 

From Army Scout to Outlaw, from Hero to Legend.

He survived the embers of the fires and murders at the Camp Grant Massacre
of the Apache. Young Has-kay-bay-nay-ntayl (“brave and tall and will
come to a mysterious end”), a child known by many names but later
feared and revered as the Apache Kid-grows up in two cultures where survival
means choosing between loyalty and betrayal, his people and their overseers.
Trained by the legendary Al Sieber and other former military officers, the
Kid makes a meteoric rise to prominence as a First Sergeant of scouts, a
warrior whose skill and leadership helps win the U.S. Army’s fight against
renegades and maintain peace between Apache bands at San Carlos
Reservation.

But neither war nor peace are ever simple. When forced to make an
impossible choice between his own People or the Army, he chooses his People.
His choice leads the Army to imprison him at Alcatraz. Released early by the
Army, Arizona Territory tries to imprison him again but he, with seven other
Apache on the way to Yuma Penitentiary, escape and become the object of the
greatest manhunt in Arizona history. The only one to survive the manhunt,
Kid becomes both a ghost and a legend, the most feared border outlaw for the
next ten years before vanishing into Mexico.

Seen through Kid’s eyes, The Apache Kid: Army Apache Scout brings to life
the thrilling and tragic journey of Apache Kid as a young man and the best
of the Army’s Apache scouts.

 

Excerpt

Redmond nodded down the arroyo. “I’ve already put some bottles
out for targets. They’re about fifty paces apart. You can just barely
see the glint off the one at three hundred yards. Which one would you like
Kid to use for a target, Al?”

Sieber leaned against the corral fence post and stared down the arroyo at
the little berms. He scratched the whiskers on his cheeks and made a face as
though deep in thought. “I can barely see that last bottle in this
light. Why don’t you just shoot the most distant one you think you can
hit. That ’73 Winchester you’re carrying would have to shoot
like the bullet was following a rainbow to hit anything at three hundred
yards. I don’t think that would be a fair test of your shootin’
ability. Go ahead and take a shot.”

I wasn’t sure what Sieber was talking about when he mentioned bullets
and rainbows, but I was sure I could hit the most distant bottle. I flipped
up the ladder sight and set the notch piece for three hundred yards. Sieber
watched me with one raised eyebrow that said I was going to make a fool of
myself. Redmond had a little smile. He’d heard enough stories about my
shooting from others that he believed he knew what I could do.

I levered a round into my rifle’s chamber, sighted at the distant
glint and, at half breath, squeezed off a shot. There was a short delay, and
then the bottle at three hundred yards exploded into many shattered pieces.
Sieber’s jaw dropped. He looked at me and then back where the bottle
was and shook his head. “Kid, that was one great shot. Can you do that
for the bottles at one and two hundred yards?”

I nodded, set the ladder notch to two hundred yards, levered a new round
and, taking aim, shattered that bottle. I flipped the ladder sight down
since the rifle was accurate without it at one hundred yards, levered
another round into the firing chamber, and quickly blew that bottle into
many sparkling pieces of glass.

Sieber looked at me and grinned. “You don’t miss, do you?
What’s your longest shot?”

I grinned back at him. “I no miss. Use Father’s buffalo gun.
Shoot deer on edge of clearing in Galiuro Mountains canyon. Father say best
shot he ever see with his buffalo gun.”

Sieber laughed. “I expect that it was. You must have exceptional
eyesight. Did you use a telescopic sight on the rifle?”

“Hmmph, I see far. Nothing on rifle. What is telescopic
sight?”

Sieber smiled and shook his head. Redmond said, “It’s a big eye
like those used in soldier glasses and another little eye attached to the
ends of a long brass tube. That combination makes things easier to see and
hit at a long range. Your People call this big eye in a tube a
‘Shináá Cho.’”

About the Author

W. MICHAEL FARMER

W. MICHAEL FARMER blends over fifteen years of research into 19th-century
Apache history and Southwest living to create richly authentic stories. A
retired PhD physicist, his scientific work included laser-based measurements
of atmospheric aerosols, and he authored a two-volume reference on
atmospheric effects.

His fiction and essays have earned numerous honors, including three Will
Rogers Gold and six Silver Medallions, multiple New Mexico-Arizona Book
Awards, and a Spur Finalist Award. His novels include The Life and Times of
Yellow Boy, Legends of the Desert, and the award-winning Geronimo duology.
His latest novels include Trini! Come! and the Chato Duology, featuring
Desperate Warrior and Proud Outcast.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Blog

Goodreads

 

Purchase Links

https://mybook.to/TheApacheKid

Amazon

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

1 Comment

Filed under Teasers

Tagged as , ,

by | May 27, 2025 · 5:00 am

Ky’s Revenge Teaser Tuesday

Ky's Revenge banner

 

Ky's Revenge cover

The Rebellious Slave 3

Post-Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Action Adventure Romance

To Be Published: May 30, 2025

 

good reads button

 

Rowan teaches the art of love to a lusty novice, while Ky suffers at the
hands of an old enemy.

The lusty adventure continues!

 

Slave girl Rowan attempts a daring escape from her mysterious kidnapper.
She hopes to be reunited with Ky and find the Key that will release her from
the bonds of slavery and let them love as equals. Rowan is found by Lopi, a
virgin fisherman, and she gratefully teaches him the joy of sex.

Ky has sworn revenge against the bearded man who took Rowan from him.
However, he’s been handed over to his old enemy, the evil Warlord
Thorfin, who seeks Rowan for his own purposes. Will the conjoined twins, Pus
and Tule, be able to help Ky escape with his life? And what of Chin Lau?
Rowan’s fellow slave has accepted the wolf brand and is the personal
bodyguard and lover of the beautiful war chief, Tamin Gutra. He soon
discovers she demands much more than his satisfying skills in bed.

To unlock the secret of this strange medieval world that coexists with
advanced technologies, Rowan must first survive and then be reunited with
the love of her life.

Ky's Revenge paperback

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Mikala Ash

 

Ky’s head felt as if it was going to burst. It throbbed in time with
the beating of a drum that seemed to be not two inches from his ears. This
wasn’t his only torment. His wrists and ankles were cruelly knotted
with thin twine that cut deep into his inflamed flesh. When he struggled, a
wave of nausea overturned his consciousness. He dry-retched, which sent
fresh stabs of lightning through his tortured brain.

He forced open his blood-encrusted eyes. The bizarre scene caused a moment
of confused alarm. Everything was upside down. The pain emanating from his
ankles was explained; he was hanging by his feet. He reasoned, after a few
moments, that he was inside a vast tent, and against the walls the flaring
torches cast dancing shadows of a parade of exotic animals and bizarre
circus performers. Ky caught sight of Pustule, the ridiculously named
two-headed dwarf. The cunning oddity was the loyal creature of Boss, the
carnival’s owner. Laughter erupted from the audience who sat at long
tables, amply supplied with wine bottles and ale mugs. Ky licked his dry
lips.

What is this place? In brief disordered snatches he recalled his and
Rowan’s attempted escape from the caravan, the fight with the bearded
man, the taking of Rowan, the boss’s betrayal, and the arrival of the
Skolls, the vicious marauders of the wastelands. He recalled that instead of
just taking him, the Skolls had captured the whole caravan. After that the
numerous beatings, too many to count, blended into one continuous thread of
pain.

Nausea again threatened to take him out of his pain when a bucket of foul
wastewater from the cook tent was emptied in his face. He coughed and
spluttered as the stale liquid filled his nostrils.

Before him, only a few yards away, flanked by guards armed with spears, a
naked gargantuan occupied an ivory throne. The big man pushed away the thin
whore who’d been curled in his lap sucking his engorged prick. She
slid to the floor gasping. Ky experienced a pang of recognition, but in his
confused state he couldn’t put a name to her. Released from her
immediate duty, she crawled away into the shadows.

The giant gave a hand signal, and the drumbeats ceased, as did the
chattering of the assembled guests.

“He lives, does he?” he asked a thin, rat-faced man who stood
by Ky.

“As you ordered, Captain,” the man replied.

Ky cursed the fiend who obviously revelled in inflicting pain with skills
designed to take a living body to the brink of death and coax it back
again.

“He hangs by his feet so as not to drown in his own
blood.”

“Call me Lord Thorfin!”

“Lord Thorfin,” the man hastily corrected himself.

That some sort of promotion had occurred mattered little to Ky. It was the
name that stabbed him in the heart.

Thorfin!

He hadn’t recognized the warlord from his dizzying position. He
doubted he would have known him under normal circumstances. Thorfin had
grown prodigiously fat during the dozen years that had passed since Ky had
been on the losing side in the War of the Three Sovereigns. Filled with rage
and grief, he’d stood with his father and brother while Thorfin
personally walked among the ranks of prisoners choosing those who’d be
sacrificed to Po. Ky had stared defiantly into the eyes of Thorfin, who
laughed and chose his older brother, Sandor. Ky had rushed forward only to
be beaten to the ground, his head held up by the hair so he could watch
Sandor dragged to the crude block to have his body ripped asunder.

Ky had screamed every curse known to man till his voice failed. In the
cells he’d watched helplessly as his father died of grief. Then, after
a month-long trek, he’d been returned to Slavin Hold and pressed into
service as a guard. At Slavin he’d started every day by swearing
bloody revenge, an impotent gesture, as it turned out. Now the tyrant had
him trussed up like a beast ready for slaughter.

Ky forced his mind to rise above his pain to concentrate on Thorfin’s
words.

“I am bored with this,” Thorfin said. “Will he talk,
Greeg?”

The torturer slapped Ky’s arse. “If he knows what’s good
for him he will.”

“Then put him to the question.”

What question?

Greeg extracted an iron poker from the fire and waved it so close to
Ky’s eyes it felt as if his tears would boil. “Where is the
girl?”

Of course. This was about Rowan!

Rowan, the rebellious slave who he loved. Ky spat a wad of blood from his
mouth. If he told Thorfin that Rowan had been taken by the bearded man, he
might know who that mysterious fellow was and go after her. Did he really
want Thorfin to get his hands on her? Even if he lived beyond this day,
could he protect her?

Then, in a moment of clarity he realized that Boss, the corpulent owner of
the carnival who had handed him over, would have already told Thorfin
everything. There was no reason not to speak what he knew.

“The man with the beard,” he said his words barely
audible.

Greeg struck him with an open hand. “Speak up!”

Ky repeated his answer.

“Yes, yes,” Thorfin said irritably. “I know of him. Who
is he?”

“I don’t know. He never said his name.”

“No one in the town knew him either,” Greeg confirmed. “I
asked them most pointedly.”

“You haven’t killed them all, have you?” Thorfin
demanded.

Greeg chuckled. “Not yet, but they wish for it.”

“They must know something. There are more clues to a man’s
identity than just his beard.” Though a beast in human form, and
despite consuming a vast amount of wine, Ky knew Thorfin was not without
intelligence.

“I will persist in my questioning, my Lord Thorfin.”

“I want answers.” Thorfin returned his gaze to Ky. “She
means something to you, this slave, Rowan.”

 

About the Author

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development
consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by
night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is
concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags
of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.

 

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today

 

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Ky’s Revenge Teaser Tuesday

Filed under Teasers

Tagged as , ,

by | May 9, 2025 · 5:00 am

Elmer Kelton’s The Familiar Stranger Teaser

Elmer Kelton's The Familiar Stranger banner

Elmer Kelton's The Familiar Stranger cover

A Hewey Calloway Adventure, Book 5

Western Adventure

Date Published: 12-03-2024

Publisher: Forge Books

 

Elmer Kelton’s Hewey Calloway, one of the best-loved cowboys in all
of Western fiction, returns in this novel of his middling years, as he looks
for work―but not too much work―in 1904 West Texas.Hewey Calloway had
intended to pass straight through Durango, Colorado, en route to visit a
friend several miles northeast of the city. He had left his home range about
a year before, with a herd of young horses. It was supposed to be a
relatively straightforward affair; deliver the horses, collect the payment,
and return home with the money. Things got out of hand, however, and there
he was in Durango a year later with plans to go north rather than south. Oh,
well, he thought, he had always wanted to see new country.

It isn’t long before his travels lead him to a cabin on a rainy night.
There he meets a young man, sick as a dog, who weakly tries to send him off.
And for good reason: the man has smallpox, and soon enough, Hewey catches
the deadly disease. The man cares for him in turn, and it’s just as he is
feeling better that the man disappears. The next morning a Pinkerton
detective turns up with posse, looking for a wanted bank robber.

As he travels north, Hewey seems to run in with both the young man who
tended to him, as well as the detective. But something seems off about the
Pinkerton detective, and Hewey keeps his mouth shut. When he reuinites with
his friend Hanley, they do everything they can to get to the bottom of the
mystery that threatens both theirs and this young man’s life.

 

 Excerpt

 

At daybreak Hewey was tying up his bedroll, preparing to head out, when he heard a loud voice from outside.

 

“Hello the house! Whoever’s in there, show yourself!” The voice was commanding and not a bit friendly.
Hewey opened the door and stepped out onto the broken- down little porch. He saw better than a half-dozen riders arrayed in front of the cabin, all armed to the teeth. They were not pointing those guns at him, but they were all casually standing ready. That prompted a momentary urge to jump back inside and bar the door, tempered by a sudden recollection that the cabin door didn’t even have a bar.
“What can I do for you?” Hewey asked the man who appeared to be in charge.
“The name’s Murphy. I’m with the Pinkertons.” Hewey took an immediate dislike to the man who called himself Murphy. He dressed more like a town dude than a cowboy or lawman, but it was his manner that rubbed Hewey the wrong way. He had small, mean eyes that made Hewey mistrust the man instantly. Hewey had always felt he could read a horse by its eyes, and in his experience the same usually worked on a man.
 “We’ve been trailing a bank robber for better than two weeks, and we received information that he was holed up near here. Maybe in this very cabin. For all we know, you’re him.”
“You got the wrong man,” Hewey replied, “I’m Hewey Calloway. But I suspect I might’ve spent some time with the feller you’re after.” Hewey explained how he came to be there and to become well acquainted with their quarry.

“Smallpox, you say,” answered the Pinkerton man.

 

About the Author

John Bradshaw

John Bradshaw is a native of the small town of Abernathy, Texas. He is an
award-winning journalist with well over a thousand published stories. Elmer
Kelton’s The Familiar Stranger, co-authored with Steve Kelton, is his
first book.

Bradshaw attended South Plains College followed by Texas Tech University.
He spent several years shoeing horses for a living as his writing career
progressed.

While the desire to write books was always there, Bradshaw first pursued a
career in journalism. He wrote numerous stories for ranching, horse and
horseshoeing magazines.

Growing up, Livestock Weekly came in the mail once a week, as it does for
most in the livestock industry. Writing for Livestock Weekly was always a
goal, and in 2005 Bradshaw’s first story was published. It was a
profile of Brownie Metzgar, a humorous cowboy still working in a feedlot
while in his late 80s.

In 2007 Bradshaw accepted a fulltime position with Livestock Weekly. While
with the paper he had over a thousand stories published, as well as enough
market reports to give him permanent nightmares.

Horses have always played an important role in his life. The son of a
horseshoer, he has spent a significant amount of time either on or under a
horse. He still shows in both ranch horse and reined cow horse
competitions.

He and his wife, Sara, live outside Abernathy. Sara owns an architecture
firm, SK Architecture Group, and they raise Spanish goats, hair sheep and
cattle.

In 2013 the couple had a stillborn son, Fox Joaquin Bradshaw. After several
years of heartbreak they adopted an infant boy, whom they named Julian Boone
Bradshaw. Boone died in his dad’s arms following an accident at the
barn five days before his sixth birthday.

 

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Goodreads

Instagram

 

Purchase Links

https://mybook.to/ElmerKelton

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

 

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

1 Comment

Filed under Teasers

Tagged as , , ,

by | May 6, 2025 · 5:00 am

Outcast Teaser Tuesday

Outcast banner

Outcast cover

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense

Date Published: May 9, 2025

 

 

Anya’s his captive, but she’s always been mine. I’ll burn
their empire to the ground to bring her home.

Anya — I never forgot Jackson — not when the foster system chewed us up
and spit us out, and not when I was dragged into the nightmare world of
Sebastian Six. Jackson was the one bright spot in my past, the only person
who ever tried to save me. Now, trapped as Six’s captive, I’ve
lost hope… until I see him again. Jackson isn’t just a memory
anymore; he’s a badass biker called Outcast. He fights the brutal
champion in Six’s underground ring, just to win a night with me.
He’s risking everything to get me out. This time, I’m not
letting him go.

Outcast — She was everything to me once. The only thing that ever
mattered. I tried to save her when we were young and failed. But when her
photo turned up on a soldier tied to a fake gun deal, I knew I’d been
given another chance. I tracked her to Louisville, to the syndicate, to the
monster who owns her. If she had been safe and happy, I would’ve
walked away. But she wasn’t. So I fought their champion in a cage
match just to get close. Now I’m running with her again — only this
time, I’m ready to kill anyone who gets in my way for her. No one is
taking Anya from me. Not now. Not ever again.

Trigger Warning: Outcast (Hounds of Hell MC 7) contains scenes of human
trafficking, violence, physical abuse, rape, and vigilante justice that may
be triggers for some readers. There’s also a strong alpha hero willing
to risk everything to save his woman.

Outcast tablet

 

 

EXCERPT

Outcast

Player scrolled through his phone in the passenger seat next to him,
killing time while they waited in the Jeep for the Red Scourge MC’s
soldiers to show. In the back, Crash sat silent, his usual restless energy
contained — for now. Malachai’s illegally modified rifles were tucked
in the back, behind the rear seats, ready for the deal. Snow and the twins
were positioned in the woods nearby, out of sight but primed to strike if
things went sideways. Everyone was in place and ready.

Well, the Hounds were ready. The other MC was new to this part of Virginia,
and the fact that they’d reached out about guns right away had sent up
an immediate red flag for Outcast. Now they were running late, testing his
patience as he ran through all the ways this deal could turn bloody if the
buyers decided to play dirty. Yeah, the club needed the money, but with so
many unknowns surrounding this crew, Razor had made sure they were prepared
for everything. Probably.

The late February sky loomed heavy with dark clouds as the wind howled
through the trees, whipping past them in the Jeep. Outcast killed the
engine, powering down his driver’s side window just an inch or two. He
was vigilant, keeping an eye on all the vehicle’s mirrors. He
listened, trying to tune out the sounds of the wind and the occasional
vehicle driving by on the highway behind them. For the meeting place,
they’d selected a remote area between Mercy and Oak Grove. Outcast had
picked it out — a stretch with no houses or businesses — in case things
went south.

Player shoved his phone back into the pocket of his leather jacket, his
attention now on Outcast. “You sure you’re feeling up to this,
brother?”

Outcast nodded, shutting down any chance of a drawn-out conversation about
his well-being. It was bad enough dealing with Deva every day, her constant
hovering after his recovery from the beating Victor Grayson’s men had
handed him. And where Deva went, Razor followed — especially now that they
were together. His club president was a hell of a lot harder to shake than
his sister.

“I’m fine,” Outcast said, and for the most part, it was
true. Mornings were rough, and by night, the lingering pain crept back in —
especially after a long day. But each day, it dulled a little more. Still,
the slow recovery gnawed at him. Pushing forty or not, he should’ve
been back to full strength by now, and the frustration of it sat heavy on
his shoulders.

“They’re here.” Snow’s rough whisper came over the
walkie talkie Outcast had positioned in the cupholder of the center
console.

Sure enough, a huge black Hummer turned off Route 221 onto the narrow dirt
road where they waited. Player pressed the button on the transceiver and
said, “Copy that.”

Outcast watched the other vehicle move closer. Player grinned at him from
the passenger seat, itching for a fight Outcast hoped they could avoid.
“It’s show time,” he said. Crash’s gaze met
Outcast’s in the rearview mirror, and he nodded.

“Focus,” Outcast told them, watching the Hummer rumble to a
stop on the other side of the road. He counted four heads but there was
plenty of room in that behemoth of a vehicle for more to be hiding. A bad
vibe twisted in his gut. Just now he was really fucking grateful for
Razor’s command that they take backup.

It was ten minutes until five, and Outcast knew the sun was sinking toward
the horizon, though the thick storm clouds kept it hidden. He slowly opened
the door and stepped out of the Jeep, the wind biting against his skin.
Crash climbed out at the same time, moving with his usual measured calm.
Player, on the other hand, damn near rocked the whole vehicle as he jumped
out of the passenger side, his boots hitting the ground hard. Moving too
fast for Outcast’s liking, Player strode around to stand just behind
him, his massive frame coiled tight, ready for a fight before one had even
started.

The smell of rain and the acrid tang of cigarette smoke from the four men
who exited the Hummer hung in the cold evening air. Outcast stood just in
front of his friends; his weight shifted casually and every muscle he had
tensed. This was far from Outcast’s first deal, but something about
this particular group set his nerves on edge.

Four men stood across from them, their faces partially obscured by the
fading light and shifting shadows of the storm. Their leather cuts were
crisp, their jeans too clean, and not one of them carried the rough,
road-worn edge Outcast expected from outlaw bikers. Something about them
felt off — like they were playing a role rather than living the life. And
considering none of the Hounds had ever heard of Red Scourge MC before now,
that didn’t sit right with him. Whoever the fuck they were, he
didn’t like the vibes they were giving off.

“Appreciate you boys coming all this way,” the taller of the
four drawled, lighting up a cigarette. Outcast recognized Hawk’s voice
from speaking with him on the phone. “Been hearing good things about
the Hounds’ hardware. Guess you need something to do out here in the
middle of Bumfuck, Virginia.”

Outcast nodded, holding Hawk’s gaze as the other man sized him up.
“Guess so.”

Hawk took another step closer, studying Outcast. A challenge. After a
minute, the man nodded. “Well, they were right about you. Outcast,
right? You got some cold, motherfuckin’ eyes.”

Outcast never took on personal comments, just waited, staring the man down.
Hawk, they were told, was a VP in his club. He had none of Snow or
Razor’s authoritative presence and his insecurities were as obvious as
a Halloween mask. Hawk squared his shoulders, but the slight twitch in his
fingers and the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot told a different
story. The man wasn’t as fearless as he wanted everyone to
believe.

Player smirked at Outcast’s side, his posture radiating confidence.
Towering over most, his broad frame made him an imposing presence — only
Beast outweighed him in the club. His voice was smooth, almost lazy, but the
edge beneath it was unmistakable. “Money’s what matters,”
Player said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“If you’ve got that, we’ve got your hardware.”

Hawk nodded to the younger man standing to his left who pulled a thick
envelope from his jacket and handed it to him. Holding it up for the Hounds
to see, he said, “Here’s our end of the deal. Now, we’d
like to see what we’re paying for.”

Without taking his eyes off the Red Scourge soldiers, Outcast said,
“Crash.”

It was the cue for Crash to climb into the back of the Jeep and haul out
one of the two heavy plastic totes, each packed with rifles. He lowered it
to the ground, unlocking the padlock that secured the lid to the body of the
bin. Crash pulled out a sleek, fully-automatic rifle. Its dark wood grip and
black metal barrel looked ominous in the dim light. Malachai, the newest
patched member of the Hounds, was goddamned good at what he did, illegally
modifying weapons himself to make them more lethal. His skill with
high-powered firearms was one of the reasons the prospect had earned his
cut.

Crash moved with deliberate ease, stepping toward Hawk and extending an
unloaded rifle. At the same time, Hawk handed over the thick, bulging
envelope — supposedly filled with cash. The exchange happened smoothly. Too
smoothly. Outcast kept his eyes locked on the Red Scourge leader.

Hawk gripped the rifle, turning it over in his hands like he knew what he
was looking for. Crash, on the other hand, tore open the envelope and
thumbed through the stack of bills inside. Outcast caught the barely
perceptible glance his brother-in-arms shot him.

I fucking knew it.

 

About the Author

Jamie Targaet is the author of the Hounds of Hell MC. She’s anxious to
introduce you to this club of gorgeous, dominant men and the lucky women who
surrender to them. The ride is going to get wild at times, not going to lie.
But there’s thrilling action, scorching hot sex scenes, and all the
feels. 

Jamie writes erotic romance for Changeling Press, a little fanfiction on
the side, and she’s an aspiring horror writer in another life. She enjoys
time with her family (including the fur babies). She likes good horror
movies and shows, emo metal and classic rock, and time spent in other worlds
writing and reading. She loves hearing from readers and is looking forward
to hearing from you.

Author on Facebook

Author on Amazon

Author’s Website

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today

 

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

1 Comment

Filed under Teasers

Tagged as , , ,

by | April 30, 2025 · 5:00 am

Taken by the Maine Coon Teaser

Taken by the Maine Coon banner

 

Taken by the Maine Coon cover

Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Urban Fantasy

Date Published: May 2, 2025

 

 

A big cat and a woman without magic could just be the right
combination.

 

Meela Durning swears she doesn’t belong in Eerie. She’s not
magical. Never has been, but she’s the child of paranormals. When
she’s forced to return to Eerie to sort out the problems from her
past, she finds a big, fluffy cat. The animal lover in her has to make sure
the feline gets home. He could be missing. Someone has to want him,
right?

Aslan Maine has known from the moment he met Meela that she was destined to
be his. He’s seen her in his dreams. When she picks him up to return
him to his rightful home, he can’t hide his secret any longer.
He’s no ordinary cat!

She can’t believe her eyes when the fluffball she rescued shifts into
the sexiest man she’s ever seen. When he offers her forever,
she’s got to decide if she deserves to be alone or to have a future
with the handsome shifter.

 

If she can survive her past, she can have him. Right?

 

Taken by the Maine Coon teaser

 

EXCERPT

“Christ, I’m tired.” Meela Durning stretched and cracked
her back. She shook her head, then closed her laptop. She hadn’t
spoken to anyone in particular. There wasn’t anyone there to hear her.
Just as well. When she’d had someone there to listen, he hadn’t
listened. Hadn’t wanted to be there, either.

She’d grown used to being alone.

Tonight, she didn’t want to be by herself. It wasn’t like she
could poof a man into existence. She’d wanted to try that for ages,
but with no magical abilities, a spell was out of the question. She supposed
she could summon one, but that only worked in her dreams and she swore it
had nothing to do with magic. Just her overly active imagination.

She shrugged, then stretched her legs before standing. The man of her
dreams might only be in said dreams, but that didn’t matter. He
couldn’t let her down that way. Didn’t have faults. He wanted to
be there. Wanted to please her. Wanted to be with her.

Unlike her ex — the rotten troll.

She sighed and pushed in her chair. She didn’t even have a fish.
She’d wanted a cat, but the building manager didn’t permit
animals that had fur. Ridiculous rules.

She checked that the apartment door was locked, then picked up her phone
before switching off the lights. She padded into the bedroom. Once she
tossed the phone onto the bed, she made her way into the bathroom. She
stripped out of her shirt, and bra, then her jeans and panties, returning to
the bedroom long enough to don her sleep shirt. She brushed her teeth, but
her thoughts turned to the man of her dreams.

She paused, mid-brushing. Man of her dreams. That sounded so silly. The
only time he’d ever appeared physically, she’d been
asleep.

A vision of him formed in her mind. Tall, muscled, but not huge…
thick dark-blond hair with just a bit of shag to it. Enough to remind her of
a superhero, with his hair blowing in the breeze. Twinkling green eyes, a
wicked smile that hinted at mischief, but he’d been a gentleman. A
dusting of hair from his navel to below the belt.

She’d never seen his cock, but she’d felt it. Heat washed over
her. She swore she’d felt his hands on her body, the way he’d
touched her and kissed every inch of her. He took care of her. Treated her
like a treasure. Like she had worth.

She knew damn well she had value. It’d taken her years to figure that
out, but now that she knew, she wasn’t about to let anyone tell her
otherwise. She refused to be a doormat again.

Meela finished in the bathroom and switched off the light before crawling
between the sheets. Something in her bed vibrated. For a moment, she thought
she’d left a toy from the night before. When a rectangle lit up
beneath the blankets, she remembered — her phone. She must’ve lost it
under the blankets when she climbed into bed. She retrieved the irksome
device and checked the notifications.

An email. Now what? She swiped to retrieve the message. Overdrawn.

“You have to be kidding me,” she muttered. She swiped to her
banking app. Sure enough, the money she’d expected to be deposited
there… wasn’t. Her ex-husband hadn’t bothered to pay
alimony. Again.

She scrubbed one hand across her forehead, then checked her texts. The
asshole hadn’t messaged her. Hadn’t bothered to let her know
he’d be a bigger asshole by not paying. She did the math in her head.
This was the sixth month in a row he hadn’t bothered to deposit the
money. The fucker.

She switched back to her banking app and shifted money from her savings to
the checking to cover her bills. Once satisfied everything would be paid out
of her wages from the software company, she brought up the chat box to her
lawyer.

Eerie, Ohio, wasn’t exactly her favorite place to go. She
didn’t belong there. She had paranormal blood, but no magic.
Couldn’t conjure, summon, wake the dead… wasn’t a
shifter, vampire, necromancer, faerie… Nothing about her was
extraordinary. She’d simply been the child of a conjurer and a
celebrity psychic. All she had was her bloodline.

But if she wanted to meet with her lawyer, she’d have to go back to
the place of her birth. She’d have to head back to Eerie. Would have
to talk to Norm Slone, divorce lawyer gnome. His name had a distinctive ring
to it. No one forgot him. Thankfully, he could be a junkyard dog in the
courtroom, too.

She opened the chat box and sent him a message.

Need to meet with you. Tiernan isn’t paying alimony. Sixth month in a
row. Tired of being shafted. Help?

She hit SEND, then darkened the phone and tossed it onto the side table. If
Norm Slone had time for her, he’d let her know in the morning.
Besides, she didn’t want to give her ex any extra space in her mind.
He owned too much as it was. Some days, he lived there rent free. Those were
the days she second-guessed divorcing him. She’d loved the troll once,
hadn’t she? Thought they could make a future together, right? A woman
with no magic and a troll could make things work, in theory. The more she
considered her past, the faster she remembered the reason she’d left
Tiernan. He’d only married her under the assumption she’d
inherit money from her parents.

Wrong.

After the wedding, when he found out she was penniless, he’d walked
out. He claimed he wasn’t interested in her any longer. He had to work
late. He’d made friends with other people. Their lives were going in
different directions. Other days, he simply didn’t speak to her.

He’d packed his belongings up in the middle of the night and walked
out.

Her head ached. She’d lost a dozen years of her life to him. Years
she could’ve been happy. Could’ve been single but making the
best of her situation. Instead, she’d tried her damnedest to keep the
marriage together. Tried to make herself loveable to him again.

What a waste. He wasn’t going to love her then or now… or
ever. She had to stop living in the past and thinking about what
wasn’t going to happen in order to focus on the future — whatever
future she had.

She switched off the light and snuggled in her blankets. She might not be
living with anyone, but then again, she didn’t have to share the bed.
Didn’t have to argue with anyone. Didn’t have to explain
herself. But the loneliness overwhelmed her at times.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to forget the day, forget her
situation for a little while. Forget her Ex. Time to dream. She loved her
dreams. Her mysterious stranger showed up when she closed her eyes.

 

 

About the Author

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author
of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing
since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary
and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her
works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her
characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s
been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best
Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the
bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as
well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but
football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends
of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

 

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

Author on Instagram

 

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

 

Pre-Order Today

 

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Taken by the Maine Coon Teaser

Filed under Teasers

Tagged as , , , ,