Tag Archives: Motorcycle Club Romance

Beast Teaser Tuesday

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(Riptide MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: June 13, 2025

 

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Her ex wants her dead. I’ll make him wish he’d never been born.

Piper — Discovering my ex was heir to the Las Vegas mafia totally freaked me
out, but we parted as friends. Or so I thought. Now he wants me dead. I barely
made it out of my house alive. I knew I couldn’t go back, so I called my
father in Georgia for help. His solution? He sent a biker to bring me home.
Imagine my surprise when the biker turned out to be my one-night stand from a
few months back.

Beast — A one-night stand with a sassy stripper in Las Vegas left me wanting
more. I couldn’t get her out of my mind, so a few months later I went
back to find her. That didn’t go so well. She’d disappeared, with
no forwarding address. Fate’s way of telling me to forget her?

I was getting ready to head home to Georgia when Ace called and asked me to do
a favor for Riptide’s FBI contact. His daughter was in San Diego, and
some thugs were gunning for her. She needed protection and transportation. I
was close enough to offer both in a hurry. Turns out Fate has a sense of
humor. I’m not sure how happy my little stripper was when I showed up to
rescue her.


Warning: This book contains violence, adult situations, bad language, and a
very protective alpha male hero. It is part of the Riptide MC series but can
be read as a standalone. There is no cheating, no cliffhangers, and a
guaranteed happily ever after.

 

Beast paperback

 

EXCERPT

 

Having a stripper in Vegas as your mom, you grow up fast. And cynical. All the
time I was growing up, my mom swore she had no idea who my father was, and I
believed her. I’d seen the endlessly changing parade of bed partners
while I was growing up. The list of possibilities for my father was probably
longer than the line up for free booze at a frat house party. When I turned
legal age, I did one of those DNA ancestry things, though, and I’d found
him.

An FBI agent. How ironic is that?

Turns out he was a pretty good guy though. He didn’t bat an eye when I
confronted him, just asked why he’d never heard of me before. I have a
feeling he already knew the answer to that one.

I wasn’t a “Daddy’s little princess” kind of girl —
too late to go down that road. He wasn’t the doting father type either,
so we got along okay. It helped that I lived in the West, and he lived in
Georgia. We’d only met in person once, but we kept in touch, and just
knowing I had one stable parent kind of made me feel almost normal. Almost.

Now it was time to find out just how much he cared. I tapped on his number in
my contact list and waited for him to answer.

“Hello, Piper. What’s up?” He sounded relaxed. Given the
time zone difference between coasts, he was probably settled in for the night
and watching whatever sport was currently being broadcast.

“Hey, Dad. Funny thing happened when I got off work tonight. Got a
minute to talk?”

“Sure.”

“Remember me telling you I’d been dating a guy named Drake, and it
didn’t work out so well?”

“Yeah. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

I rolled my eyes. “No. That would be really bad. See, what I
didn’t mention was the reason I bailed was because I found out Drake had
mob connections.”

“Mafia? Are you serious?” He didn’t sound relaxed anymore.
“Exactly what kind of connection are we talking about?”

I gulped. “He’s being groomed to take over his father’s
operations. As in he’ll be the next don. They run most of the illegal
activity in Vegas.”

Dead silence greeted my statement.

“Dad?”

“I’m here. Just trying to digest this. Ignoring the part where you
were dating a mafia kingpin, you split with that guy months ago, so what
happened tonight?”

“Someone tried to kill me. They said Drake ordered it.”

“That doesn’t make sense. He let you go and ignored you for
months. Why would he suddenly want you dead? No offence, but my experience
with those kinds of guys is they’re pretty casual about their affairs.
Once they’re done, they’re done and they move on, especially if
you were never involved in family activities.”

“Exactly what I thought we’d done. We said goodbye and both moved
on. I even took a gig in San Diego and left the area so I’m nowhere near
him. Haven’t seen him since the break-up. I have no idea what the hell
is going on, or why he suddenly wants me dead.”

“Did he ever discuss his business dealings with you, or did you ever
overhear anything you shouldn’t have?”

“No. I was clueless, until he suddenly decided to fess up. I had a
feeling he wanted out. He knew I wouldn’t hang around once I found
out.”

“Okay. We can figure that out later. Right now, we need to get you safe.
Where are you?”

I looked around. “Hiding under a willow tree a couple of blocks from my
house. Empty lot on the corner.”

“Right. I’m going to send someone to pick you up and bring you
here. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll call you back with details.”

“Thanks.” I let out a sigh of relief. Glancing down at my phone, I
realized it had been less than an hour since I’d left work. Amazing how
quickly life could change.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. Dad. I hit accept.

“Good news. One of the groups we use for security happens to have an
agent in your area. He should be there to pick you up in twenty minutes or so,
depending on traffic. Just a heads up, he’s on a bike. You okay with
that?”

“A bike, as in a motorcycle?”

“Yeah. He’s a big guy, lots of leather and tattoos. He looks a
little rough, but he’s decent and I told him to get you a helmet.
Luckily, he was out there on personal business and was just getting ready to
head back here to his home base. There’s a hamburger joint two blocks
east of your position. He’ll meet you there. I sent him a picture so
he’d recognize you. He’ll ask if you like the ocean. You answer
yes, but the riptides are dangerous. Got that?”

I knew the place he was talking about. I stopped in there occasionally for
takeout. Despite the shabby exterior they made damn good hamburgers. This was
starting to sound like a B-rated movie, though, with code phrases and
clandestine meetings. “Are you serious? About the ocean question?”

“You need some way to recognize each other. Code phrases work just fine
for that.”

“Okay. I got it. Yes, I like the ocean, but the riptides are
dangerous.” I paused. “Dad?”

“Yeah, Piper?”

“I appreciate this. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m glad I can help.” He made a sound
halfway between a chuckle and cough. “Not like I have a ton of kids
running around, and we’re just getting to know each other.”

“Thanks anyway.” I stood up and brushed the dried grass and dirt
off my backside.

“Call me when you’re safe with Beast.”

“Beast?” That didn’t sound comforting.

“Just what the guys call him. He looks like someone you’d cross
the street to avoid. Might look scary if you don’t know him, so Beast.
He’s an ex-SEAL and they tend to come with muscles.”

“Okay. A beast on a bike.” I tried to sound cheerful. “Talk
to you soon.” Disconnecting the call, I slung my purse across my
shoulder. I tucked the phone into my hip pocket so I’d feel it if it
vibrated. It occurred to me that Drake had this number. Once I was safely out
of California, I’d have to do something about that.

The burger joint was packed, but I managed to squeeze into a booth toward the
back. I had a good view of the parking lot out the window, and anyone looking
for me would have a hard time seeing me through the crowd at the front.

I ordered fries and a coke. Having someone take shots at me had killed my
appetite but I needed to order something to justify taking up a table. I was
pushing the food around on the plate when the sound of a motorcycle penetrated
the chatter of the dinner time crowd.

The biker pulled his machine up to the front of the building and dismounted.
Dad was right. That guy was huge. Tossing his helmet onto the seat, he raked
his hands through his hair and grabbed a duffel bag from under a cargo net on
the back seat before heading inside. The door hadn’t closed behind him
before his gaze rested on me, pinning me in place.

Picking up a toothpick from the counter, he stuck it in his mouth like a
cigar. A grumpy frown marred his rugged features as he strode between the
tables to where I was sitting.

Shit. I knew that face. And that body as well, although there were a lot fewer
clothes on it the last time I saw it.

And the last time I’d seen him, his name was Johnny, not Beast.

He slid into the seat across from me, his gaze pinning me in place. “So,
how do you like the ocean, Piper?” he asked.

 

About the Author

Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue
dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many
fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but
finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate
was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and
just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then
she has published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all
with a happily ever after.

She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending
time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing
with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing
guitar, singing and of course, reading.

 

Author Contact Links

Website

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

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Rebel Blitz

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(Devil’s Boneyard MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: May 23, 2025

 

 

Are you ready to dive into a world where love and vengeance
intertwine?

 

Rio — I thought I had my future mapped out with the Army until two men
shattered that dream, leaving me medically discharged and lost. I journeyed
west, then returned east after a call from my superior, urging me to testify
against those who hurt me. When I stepped into a biker clubhouse along the
way, I never expected to find a place I could truly call home. Rebel makes
me want to trust again. He’s charming, bold, protective, and
understanding. I started my journey as a way to escape my past. I ended up
finding a family — and possibly love.

Rebel — The moment Rio walked into the clubhouse, she had my attention.
Proud, confident, and armed, she’s a storm ready to be unleashed. When
her past comes looking for her, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to
keep her safe. Those men have made a fatal mistake. They thought they were
hunters. What they don’t know is that I’m the predator, and they
aren’t walking out of my town alive.

 

Love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a battle worth fighting
for.

 

Warning: Rebel is intended for readers 18+ due to adult situations, bad
language, and violence. The story contains content some readers may find
difficult to read. There’s a guaranteed HEA, no cheating, and no
cliffhanger!

 

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EXCERPT

I leaned against the wall near the bar, nursing my whiskey and watching the
usual Friday night chaos unfold. The Devil’s Boneyard clubhouse pulsed
with life around me — half-naked women draping themselves over patched
members, Prospects hustling drinks, the bass from the speakers vibrating
through the floorboards. Then she walked in, pushing the door open with more
force than necessary, like she needed everyone to know she wasn’t
sneaking in. The metal hinges had protested with a squeal that somehow cut
through the roar of Guns N’ Roses blasting from the speakers. For a
split second, a few heads turned — then most went back to their business.
Not mine. I kept watching.

Strawberry-blonde hair, fierce blue eyes, and a don’t-fuck-with-me
stride that parted the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea. Something electric
snapped in the air, and I knew my quiet night had just gotten a hell of a
lot more interesting.

She stood there in worn jeans, combat boots, and a leather jacket that had
seen better days. Not trying to show skin like the club girls but somehow
commanding more attention. Her eyes scanned the room with military
precision, taking stock of every exit, every threat. I recognized that look.
Had worn it myself once.

The clubhouse wasn’t much to look at. Worn hardwood floors bearing
cigarette burns and knife marks that told stories of parties past. The walls
were covered in a collection of road signs, license plates, and probably a
bit too much Harley-Davidson memorabilia. The lighting was shit — dim
yellow bulbs — but it hid the stains well enough.

She wrinkled her nose, probably at the cocktail of smells — stale beer,
motor oil, leather, sweat, and the unmistakable scent of sex. Her shoulders
tensed as two hang-arounds brushed past her, but she stood her ground.
Didn’t flinch. Interesting.

Charming sat at his usual table in the corner, silver-threaded hair
catching the light as he nodded at something Havoc was saying. Even from
across the room, you could feel his presence. His years as president had
that effect. Men unconsciously straightened when he looked their way,
women’s voices dropped to deferential tones. Not out of fear — though
plenty feared him — but out of the kind of respect that can’t be
demanded, only earned.

I watched her clock him immediately. Smart girl. In a room full of
predators, she’d identified the alpha in seconds. Her eyes narrowed
slightly, assessing, calculating. But she didn’t approach. Instead,
she made her way to the bar, keeping her back to the wall, ordering
something I couldn’t hear over the music.

“Who’s the new blood?” Chaos appeared beside me, beer in
hand, voice unnecessarily loud as usual.

“Don’t know yet,” I said, not taking my eyes off her.
“But I’m about to find out.”

“She looks like she’d cut your dick off for saying hello
wrong.” He grinned, obviously considering this a challenge rather than
a warning.

“Then I better say it right.” I drained my whiskey and set the
glass down with a decisive clink.

Across the room, one of the club girls — a blonde with tits that defied
gravity and the IQ of a doorknob — was trying to chat her up. Probably
recruiting for the stable, or assessing if she would be a rival. The
strawberry blonde’s expression had gone from cautious to thunderous.
Time to intervene before something ugly happened.

I crossed the floor in long strides, noticing how several of the brothers
were now watching with idle interest. New female faces always drew
attention, especially ones that didn’t fit the typical groupie
mold.

“Tiffany,” I said to the blonde, not bothering with
pleasantries, “I think Java’s looking for you.”

She pouted, those silicone lips forming a perfect bow. “I’m
just being friendly, Rebel.”

“Be friendly elsewhere.” My tone left no room for
argument.

She huffed but retreated, her six-inch heels clicking against the hardwood.
I turned to the newcomer, close enough now to see the freckles scattered
across her face and the tension in her jaw.

“The recruitment pitch gets old fast,” I said, not bothering
with introductions yet. “You looking for someone specific, or just
lost?”

Her eyes — startlingly blue up close — locked onto mine. “Do I look
like the type that gets lost?”

Southern accent. Georgia, maybe. And an attitude I could feel from three
feet away.

I smirked. “No, you look like the type that walks into a biker
clubhouse alone on purpose. Which means you’re either crazy or have a
death wish.”

“Or I can handle myself.” Her hand shifted slightly, drawing my
attention to the slight bulge under her jacket. Carrying. Interesting.

“I don’t doubt it.” I gestured to the bartender for two
more drinks. “But even the best fighters might think twice about a
thirty-to-one ratio.”

The corner of her mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but close.
“Thirty? I counted fourteen, and half of them are too drunk to stand
straight.”

I laughed, genuinely surprised. “You military?”

Something darkened in her expression. “Was.”

The bartender slid two whiskeys toward us. I pushed one her way.
“I’m Rebel.”

She eyed the drink suspiciously. “Original.”

“Says the girl who hasn’t given her name at all.”

She picked up the glass, sniffed it, then took a small sip. Testing.
“Rio.”

“Like the city?”

“Like the river. It flows where it wants to.”

I raised my glass in acknowledgment and took a swallow, feeling the burn
hit my throat. “So what brings you to our humble establishment, Rio
who flows where she wants to?”

Her eyes flicked around the room again, lingering on a group of Prospects
playing pool. “Just passing through. Heard this was where the action
is in this shithole town.”

“And what kind of action are you looking for?” I kept my tone
neutral, but we both knew what the question implied in a place like
this.

She met my gaze head-on, challenge sparking. “Not the kind
you’re thinking.”

“You’d be surprised what I’m thinking.”

A commotion near the door drew our attention. Two Prospects escorting a
belligerent drunk outside, his protests lost in the music. Rio’s hand
had drifted back toward her concealed weapon, her body tensing for
trouble.

“Relax,” I said, stepping slightly closer. “Just the
usual Friday night housekeeping.”

“I don’t relax in places I don’t know with people I
don’t trust,” she said, but her hand dropped back to her
side.

I studied her for a moment — the way she held herself, alert but not
skittish. Dangerous but controlled. “Smart policy.”

Across the room, Charming’s gaze connected with mine, one silver
eyebrow raised in silent question. I gave a subtle nod. Nothing to worry
about. Yet.

“Your President’s watching,” Rio said without turning
around. The observation impressed me — she’d maintained awareness of
the room without being obvious about it.

“He notices everything,” I confirmed. “Especially
strangers with hidden weapons.”

 

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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HAWK Blitz

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(Kiss of Death MC 3)

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: May 16, 2025

 

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May God have mercy on Carrie’s enemies, because I have none.

Carrie — When I stumble out of the fog into a motorcycle club compound,
the guys seem more freaked out over my name (something about an old movie?)
than the fact that I’m covered in blood and asking for a jug of
sulfuric acid. Not my best moment. Then Hawk steps in. His smile and the
careful way he takes care of me steal my heart. I’m asking for
heartache, but my whole life has been nothing but pain and disappointment.
Just this once, I want to take control, take what I want. And I want Hawk.
No matter what happens when my family finds me.

Hawk — I knew Carrie was trouble the second I laid eyes on her. Of course,
she was covered in blood, so, easy call. What I didn’t count on is how
completely and quickly I fell under her spell. I might not be ready to admit
it, but my brothers know and plan accordingly. Carrie is mine. Even though
she’s proven she can take care of herself, whatever trouble she has
coming for her will have to go through me.

Warning: Graphic violence and adult content which may be triggers for some
readers. As always, there is a happily ever after with no cheating.

HAWK mobile phone

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Marteeka Karland

 

The family reunion continued. Unfortunately, the women weren’t here.
“Unfortunately” because I really wanted to see some fireworks
tonight. Probably just as well because that feeling I had before was
becoming an itch between my shoulder blades I couldn’t ignore.

I stood, acknowledging my brothers as I passed them on the way to the door.
I stepped outside and took a deep breath. It was barely summer and already
the air was humid and thick with moisture. I welcomed it, though. Inside our
little corner of the city we’d created a haven of sorts. One whole
city block in the center we turned into a small forest. In the center of
that, was a park of sorts where we had a couple of vegetable gardens and
several flowerbeds. Wasn’t a very “biker” thing to do, but
it was peaceful. At one time or another, after getting out of prison, we all
needed the relative quiet and solitude.

“What’s goin’ on, Hawk?” I looked over my shoulder
to find Chains. He’d been my cellie for a while, and after I’d
gotten out, he found me and brought me to Kiss of Death. We’d helped
clean out the trash in the club when they’d picked a fight with the
wrong club.

“Don’t know. Somethin’.”

Chains nodded as he stepped beside me. He leaned against the rail in front
of the main clubhouse. Crumbled concrete, gravel, and dirt lined the paths
that made up the “roads” in our territory. It looked exactly
like what it was. A prison of our own making. Only this one was to keep the
rest of the world away from us instead of the other way around.

“You got that feelin’ again?” Chains lit a cigarette, the
flare of his lighter briefly illuminating the hard planes of his face.
He’d been with me long enough to recognize when my instincts kicked
in.

I nodded, scanning the perimeter of our compound. “Yeah. Like
somethin’s comin’ our way.”

“Something or someone?”

“Fuck if I know.” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to shake
the sensation. My instincts had saved my ass more times than I could count,
both on the inside and out. When they started screaming like this, shit was
about to go down.

We stood in silence for a few minutes, Chains smoking and me just watching
the night. Our guard posts on top of each building were manned. Security
lights flooding lights flooding the area close to our fencing provided a
little extra protection for the buildings around us. If nothing else, the
extra lighting made it easier for their own security cameras to get good
imaging of whomever was trying to rip them off.

The sound of laughter and music drifting from the clubhouse behind us
usually filled me with contentment. Tonight, it was an irritation. I needed
to hear the night around me, to get an idea what was about to hit us.

I ducked under the railing and walked down the gravel path, not sure where
I was going but needing to get away from the noise and light. Though the
area around our compound was well lit, the interior was dark except for
inside the various buildings. The paths between buildings and everything
other than the center garden were covered in camo netting. We were as
protected as we could be here. So why were my instincts screaming at me? The
feeling got worse with each passing moment.

“Hawk?” Chains fell into step beside me, his gaze sweeping the
area above the fence line. “You see somethin’?”

I didn’t answer. Wasn’t sure I could because with every second
ticking by, my anxiety increased. It wasn’t late, but the high
humidity and milder temperatures made the fog coming off the Cumberland
River roll in thick as pea soup. Every breath in was heavy and wet, the
water vapor tickling my nose. The security lights reflected back, making
visibility very far outside our walls nearly impossible.

The moment I saw the small figure emerge from the thick mist, it felt like
all the hair stood up on my body. It was definitely a woman, but there was
something off about her. I took a step forward. Then another. I was stopped
when Chains grabbed my arm.

“Easy, brother. That’s creepy as fuck and I don’t
fuckin’ know…” He trailed off. Which is when I got my
first good look at the woman, courtesy of the flood lights as she came
closer. No mistaking she was heading straight for us with a purposeful
stride. “Why’s she covered in mud?”

“Don’t think that’s mud, Hawk.” Chains puffed his
chest out and called out to the would-be intruder. “Stop there, little
miss. Private property and all that.”

She stopped directly in one spotlight so there was no mistaking her
appearance and physical state. “That your blood?” Private
property or not, need for secrecy and privacy or not, I absolutely would not
deny a woman help who’d lost that much blood.

“What?” She had a confused look on her face, then looked down
at herself. “Oh! That. Nah, not my blood. I’m good.” She
gave me a bright smile and a big thumbs up. “But I’m kind of in
a bit of a bind?” She actually looked like she was genuinely sorry to
take up our time. Like she wasn’t covered in blood looking like
something out of a horror movie.

I glanced over at Chains. His fists were clenched at his side, his eyes
wide. Guy was superstitious as fuck, but I’d never seen him like this.
Looking back to the woman, I started to answer when a light flashed over her
blood-splattered face and I had to fight off a shudder. Never show weakness.
It was a mantra that had served me well. Yet, here I was about to piss
myself because of one tiny woman with a little blood on her. OK, so a lot of
blood, but how did I know it was even blood? Might be fake blood. Might be
animal blood, which was disturbing in itself. Maybe it was mud after all,
and the lighting and mist were distorting the colors.

“Yeah, small bind.” She winced and held her thumb and finger an
inch apart. “Very small. Almost nonexistent, except it’s
not.” Her expression fell slightly. “Um, anyway. I gave the guys
every chance to walk away. I swear.” Her eyes were almost comically
wide. Like she was a kid trying to talk her parents out of a punishment for
something she’d done.

“Gave who a chance to walk away?” The question tumbled from my
lips without my consent. I didn’t need to know. Didn’t want to
know. The less I knew the better. Ex-con and all. I saw Chains out of the
corner of my eye. He gave me a sharp look, but didn’t say anything,
either unwilling to show division or to stop the carnage he knew would
follow. Yeah. We were sick bastards like that.

“Oh, the guys I stabbed.” She gave a slight, nervous laugh.
“I wouldn’t have hurt either of them if one of them hadn’t
pulled the knife after I broke the other guy’s leg. And I
wouldn’t have broken his leg if he hadn’t tried to hit
me.”

“Tried to hit you.” Could I sound any more stupid?

“Yeah. They were trying to rob me and I took exception.”

 

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 Contact Links

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

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

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Outcast Teaser Tuesday

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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

 

 

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Knuckles Teaser Tuesday

Knuckles banner

Knuckles cover

(Kiss of Death MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: April 18, 2025

 

 

Hannah’s stubborn, abrasive, and vicious. She’s also mine.

Hannah: My life as I knew it ended the night my boyfriend tried to rape me.
I killed the swine, and I’m not sorry. After that night, it became my
mission to rid the world of as many predators as I could. If that meant I
got slapped around a little, I’d sacrifice for the cause. What I
didn’t count on was my brother’s best friend coming to my
rescue. That dangerous vibe he’s giving off is making me feel things I
never expected. Knuckles fought for me. Protected me. Now he’s using
words like “claim” and “old lady,” but I’m not
sure I want to be anyone’s property. Not unless it means he’s my
property too.

Knuckles: I came to Afternoon Delytes to get the information I needed to
destroy a woman who’d betrayed me. I never expected to see my best
friend’s sister take a backhand to the face. She has the biggest heart
of anyone I’ve ever met. She’s also vicious. And mine.

Knuckles tablet

 

EXCERPT

Knuckles

“You tell that bitch I’m comin’ for her. She has a week
at most to make her peace.” I’d never meant a statement more in
my fucking life.

“I’m just puttin’ you in touch with her, Knuckles.
Ain’t your errand boy. You want to negotiate, you go through her
people.”

“Nothin’ to negotiate. When you confirm your job’s done,
you tell her the only thing I want from her is her fuckin’ head on a
pike.”

“You’re not gettin’ your daughter back until you talk
with her, man. She made that very clear.”

“Too bad for her I already have my daughter.”

Finally, I got a reaction out of Wild Bill. Only a raised eyebrow but way
more than the man normally showed. He wasn’t a man I trusted exactly,
but he held to a code and I respected that. “OK… That’s
news.”

“Is it.” I didn’t phrase my words as a question.

“How long have you had her?”

“Since before they managed to sell Pippa,” I snapped. “I
know Beth wants my supplier, and I know she worked for several months to
undercut me, so I was prepared for somethin’. It never occurred to me
she’d sell her own daughter for a drug deal, but it should have. I
knew years ago there was somethin’ not right with Beth. Even before
she brought Pippa to see me. I knew there was another shoe to drop but
wasn’t expectin’ her to actually sell our daughter to get even
with me.”

“Look. I got in touch with you as a favor to her. I can see I made an
error in judgment.” Yeah, Wild Bill could see how pissed I was.
“I’ll deliver your message to the bitch and go one better.
I’ll give you a heads-up before she does anythin’ else to piss
you off.”

“Now, why would you do that, Wild Bill?” I drawled out the
question as I leaned against the bar and took a sip of my coffee. Wild Bill
had met me just outside the Kiss of Death compound in Nashville. The area
we’d purchased and walled off sat in the industrial outskirts of the
city, but there were still a couple bars and a strip club in the area, which
is where we were currently. Little club called Afternoon Delytes. The music
was loud, the girls had big tits, and the alcohol wasn’t watered down.
A good place for an enemy to be distracted if he wasn’t cautious.
Which was why I liked to meet here with men I didn’t fully
trust.

“I know you think I’m amoral, but I do have a code, Knuckles. A
line I won’t cross. If what you told me is true — and your reputation
says you know your shit before you speak — that bitch obliterated my line.
I ain’t above pimpin’ out girls willin’ to split the
profits, but I don’t force women. For any reason. And I absolutely do
not traffic. Beth broke both those hard and fast rules for me. I agreed to
this in good faith with her mostly because I respect you. If it were my
daughter, I’d kill anyone who knew what was goin’ on and
didn’t tell me. But, honest to God, I thought Beth had the girl. Maybe
in a gilded cage, or maybe it was an empty threat to you and there was no
danger to your daughter at all.”

“I could be lying.”

Wild Bill shook his head. “Nope. That’s not your style.
You’ve always given it to me straight. Whether or not it’s what
I wanted to hear.” I had to admit, the man might have gone up a little
in my estimation. I’d still verify any information he shared with me
before acting on it. It might not tell the tale, but I’d be able to
better see if Wild Bill subscribed to the honor among thieves mentality, or
if it was every man for himself.

“You know where Beth is?” Even if he was lying, I wanted any
information he doled out. If it was bogus, I’d act accordingly. Which
would not end well for Wild Bill.

“Yep.” He took out an envelope. “I’ve had a guy on
her for a couple months. She’s at the same place she’s always
been at. Way too rich for a nurse’s salary.” He handed me the
envelope and I took it.

I stared at him a long time. Wild Bill held my gaze without flinching.
“Few men surprise me, so I’m going to give you this one time to
tell me your agenda. I won’t consider you an enemy and I’ll
respect your territory, but only if you come clean now.”

“No agenda, Knuckles. No repayment expected. No favors later. This is
because I agreed to help your ex without investigatin’ beyond the
surface. Knowin’ the girl was her daughter? Yeah. Wasn’t
expectin’ her to hurt her own kid.” He shook his head like he
knew he’d fucked up royally. “I don’t question things
beyond the job because the job speaks for itself, but with somethin’
like this, I should have dug a little deeper. Ain’t too proud to admit
when I’m wrong.” The corner of his lips curled up in a
self-deprecating smile. “I’d also prefer it if you didn’t
see this as a betrayal of the fragile alliance we have.”

“OK, now that I believe.” I took a sip of coffee, never taking
my eyes from Wild Bill.

“How’d you get out of a life sentence anyway?” Wild Bill
took a healthy pull of his beer before signaling the bartender for
another.

“Friends in high places.” I continued to study the other man.
“I’d’ve been out years ago except I had to help a guy
out.”

Wild Bill snorted. “Right. You went in on a triple murder the way I
heard it. That ain’t somethin’ you get out of that
easy.”

“I did confess to a triple murder. Yes.” The smile I gave him
wasn’t genuine.

Wild Bill looked like he wasn’t sure whether or not to believe me.
“Must have been some long, hard dick you sucked to get out of that
kind of rap.”

“All you need to know is it’s none of your Goddamned
business.” This was getting tiresome. “You can spread the word
to anyone you want to live that I’m back.”

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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