RESCUED FROM A BRUTAL CULT, SHE BELIEVED SHE HAD ESCAPED THE SHADOWS. BUT
TEXAS HARBORS EVEN DARKER SECRETS.
Blake is a steely, enigmatic force, fiercely loyal to her one-eyed horse, Ira.
As she navigates the patriarchal arena of cutting horse competitions, her
steadfast devotion teeters on the brink of danger, unearthing a dark past she
had long sought to bury.
Across the scorched Lone Star badlands, retired detective Sonny Harrell hunts
the killers who murdered his father. His trail of blood and lies uncovers a
ruthless syndicate that would flay you to the bone to guard its empire of
corruption.
When Sonny's path collides with Blake's, she is swept into a vortex of
violence. Outnumbered and outmatched, they must claw through the chaos-or
vanish into oblivion.
About the Author
Paul’s debut crime thriller Nannerl’s Symphony—based on
Mozart’s history—was published soon after he completed his PhD in
Mathematics from Imperial College London. He has since authored over 100
academic papers in top journals. The Gershwin Cutter is his second thriller,
with two more on the way. Currently, he holds an endowed professorship at the
University of Texas in Austin. A recipient of multiple research awards, Paul
was also a finalist for the U.S. National Library of Poetry Award. He has
lived on three continents and is fluent in several languages. An animal lover,
Paul is the proud pet parent of a blue-eyed Alsatian.
J. Von Swan is here to tell us about Skip Carter: Henchman for Hire, action, adult, humor.
There's also a great giveaway.
___________________
Skip Carter: Henchman for Hire
J. Von Swan
Publication date: October 13th 2026
Genres: Action, Adult, Humor
From the award-winning author of the Wolf of Vanaheim series comes a story about the guy nobody roots for — until now.
Skip Carter isn’t a hero. He’s a former soldier, ex-con, and lifelong screw-up whose only real talent is taking punches and showing up anyway. So when a shady agency offers to rent him out as muscle for supervillains, he figures it’s just another paycheck.
But between ridiculous costumes, insane bosses, and jobs that always end in broken bones, Skip starts to realize the real losers are the guys stuck cleaning up after the chaos. And when a world-ending threat finally hits Skytropolis, he gets one shot to stop being the disposable henchman and start being the man his daughter believes he can be.
Darkly funny, surprisingly heartfelt, and packed with action, Skip Carter, Henchman for Hire is for anyone who’s ever felt like the sidekick in their own story.
Mrs. Fuller glanced down her list. “Okay! Next we have… Mr. Carter.”
Peggy turned around in her chair and locked eyes with me. Her smile wasn’t just excitement. It was encouragement. A silent You can do this.
My chest tightened as I stood, smoothing the front of my suit jacket with sweaty hands. The room stared at me with pure, unfiltered child curiosity. No judgment yet. Just curious attention like they were hoping I might be someone I’m not.
I walked to the front of the classroom, facing a row of small faces that believed adults were all responsible, stable people with their shit together. And I realized, with sudden clarity, that I had no idea what to say.
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
Awkward, uncomfortable silence stretched. The kind that crawls across your skin and whispers everyone is watching you screw this up.
I cleared my throat and glanced at Dr. Ramirez. He studied me like he was trying to place how he knew me from his emergency room.
“Uh. Hi, kids.”
A few of them waved like I was a minor celebrity. Someone whispered something and giggled.
“My name is Skip Carter. I’m Peggy’s dad.”
Peggy sat up straighter at that. Pride radiated off her like a heat lamp.
“I, uh… I used to be in the military.” That part was safe and true. Technically documented despite the dishonorable discharge. “And now I work in… private security.”
That sounded boring enough to pass. Mrs. Fuller nodded approvingly.
Jayden, the dog lover, raised his hand immediately. “Do you protect people?”
Every instinct screamed at me to lie. To say yes. To let that be the end of it. Protecting people was clean. Simple. Noble.
Instead, honesty slipped out like a bad habit.
“Not really,” I said.
Jayden frowned with confusion. “So then what do you do?”
I choked a little. “I… help make sure certain situations go the way they’re supposed to.”
That felt vague enough to dodge the truth while still being technically accurate. I had spent years perfecting that skill.
A girl with neat, black braids and a pink sweater raised her hand. “Do you stop bad guys?”
“No,” I said, and immediately regretted it. “I mean, sometimes other people stop them.”
She also frowned like I’d just told her Santa wasn’t real.
Another hand shot up. “Do you stop burglars from stealing stuff?”
I shook my head. “No.”
The kids started exchanging confused looks. The magic was leaking out of the room.
From the back, a voice cut through the air. “My mom says he’s a henchman.”
Some of the kids immediately giggled.
I looked toward the sound. It was Billy from next door. He was wearing a Captain Justice T-shirt and a smug expression. The kind of kid who repeated adult conversations without understanding why they hurt.
Peggy whipped around in her seat. “Shut up, Billy!”
Mrs. Fuller stepped forward. “Billy, that’s not appropriate–”
Billy wasn’t done. “She says henchmen work for supervillains and help them hurt people.”
Every pair of eyes swung back to me.
I felt heat crawl up my neck, into my face. The suit suddenly felt too tight.
Peggy stood up in her seat. “My dad knows all the superheroes!”
That part was technically true. Unfortunately.
Billy smirked. “Then does he know Captain Justice?”
I exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” I said. “I know Captain Justice.”
Billy’s eyes lit up. “Is he awesome in real life?”
I thought about Captain Justice and all the times he had knocked out my friends. About him swooping in to stop us even when the jobs were small. About the time he punched a henchman who was injured and trying to surrender.
“He’s kind of a blowhard,” I said.
Author Bio:
J. Von Swan is the award-winning author of the Wolf of Vanaheim series. He retired from law enforcement as a Sergeant in 2024 after the birth of his first daughter. During his career, he served on both the SWAT team and the mental health unit, experiences that now influence his writing and dark sense of humor. He now writes full-time and instructs law enforcement part-time at the community college.
J. Von Swan lives in Colorado with his family, where he spends his time enjoying the outdoors and imagining dragons that still need slaying.
Steve Sheppard is here to tell us about False Connections, thriller, action.
There's also a great giveaway.
________________________
She's ex-MI5.
MI5 wants her dead.
Who can she trust?
False Connections
by Steve Sheppard
Genre: Thriller, Action
"Thriller
addicts won't be disappointed"
"Steve Sheppard has created another great character in Mel Milano."
Three years ago, Mel Milano was an MI5 intelligence officer
with a promising career. Then, during a routine protection and surveillance
operation in Wales, things went drastically wrong and three people died,
including Mel’s partner and fiancé, Liam Webster.
Drummed out of the service on trumped-up charges by MI5 Deputy Director, Sarah
Brook, Mel lost her career, her self-respect, her confidence and her fiancé.
Nothing made sense.
Three years on, she is rebuilding her life, working for a private security
outfit.
But she’s never forgiven the way she was dumped by MI5. One day she’ll discover
the truth about Brook and what was really going on.
Now, though, it’s clear that Mel’s not the only one still holding a grudge.
Suddenly everybody seems to want her dead. But why?
On the run from MI5, is there anyone Mel
can trust to help her uncover the past?
The door opens noisily, bringing with it a gust of
chilly air. I turn on my stool, expecting to see Adam. I’m formulating some
sort of suitably sarcastic barb. It’s not Adam, however. Instead, two men have
entered. Strangers. Adam once said he found it odd that so many people he
didn’t know came to The Crown but the place is his choice and I don’t come here
so often that I’m going to know all the regulars. I look away from the new
arrivals but immediately feel a tap on my shoulder. I’m never happy when strange
men think they have the right to touch me and I tense, my hand gripping the
whiskey glass slightly more tightly.
Still, it isn’t the time and place to make
a scene so I relax again and look at the man who’s tapped me on the shoulder.
He’s about forty, similar height to me, dark suit and tie, blond hair trimmed
to within an inch of its life, and he’s holding a warrant card. I may not know
all the regulars of The Crown but I thought I knew all the local coppers. There
aren’t many and I’ve had dealings with most of them during the past year, one
way or another. This guy is not an East Hampshire plod though. Behind him and
to one side, his colleague, younger, bigger, also fair-haired, is staring at me
with tight little eyes. A bully’s eyes. He looks like he’s itching for a fight.
In other circumstances, I might have been happy to oblige but Kaylee had
clearly been round the bar with a cloth and cleanser before opening and I
wouldn’t want to bloody her handiwork. Nor would the subsequent paperwork have
appealed.
Detective Sergeant Aaron Walcott, I read on
the warrant card. Metropolitan Police. He’s off his patch. He says nothing so I
say nothing right back at him. It’s definitely up to Walcott to start the
conversational ball rolling so I pick up my glass and drain it. I don’t want to
waste any bourbon if this plays out as I’m beginning to think it might.
Eventually he speaks. Maybe he was
rehearsing his lines. ‘Miss Melanie Marie Milano?’ he says.
Steve
Sheppard was born and grew up in Surrey before moving to Buckinghamshire and
then to Oxfordshire, where he spent a quarter of a century living in an
idiosyncratic village that was the affectionate inspiration for his fourth
book, Lazytown. He now lives
in Hampshire. He spent forty years starting to write books but not finishing
them, until belatedly realising that the key is not to give up. The other thing
he has since learned is that he should have become a celebrity before writing a
book, as this would have made selling it much easier.
False Connections is Steve’s fifth book,
but the first one written as a straight thriller and not primarily as a comedy,
although it does contain humour. He hopes it will be the first of a series
featuring feisty, funny but flawed ex-MI5 agent, Mel Milano. He also has three
spy thrillers with laughs to his name, all published by Claret Press: A Very Important Teapot (2019),
set in Australia, Bored to Death in
the Baltics (2021), not set in Australia, and Poor Table Manners (2024), which takes place in Cape
Town. These feature an initially fairly
hapless hero, Dawson, and a considerably less hapless heroine, Lucy, together
with varied supporting casts, most of whom are not who they claim to be.
Steve’s fourth book is an out-and-out comedy-murder-mystery, Lazytown (2025).
Ashlynn Monroe is here to tell us about Claimed, Claimed 3, an off world sci-fi action romance.
Read on for details...
______________________
(Claimed 3)
An Off World Sci-Fi Action Romance
Date Published: May 8, 2026
Publisher: Changeling Press
Lexa never really knew what it meant to live until she was condemned to
die.
Framed for a crime she’d never even contemplated, Lexa Mercer’s
doing thirty days or death on the Intergalactic Broadcasting Channel’s
hit reality show Nariasma. She owes her life to one of the show’s
hottest contestants -- and a ghost of a man no one is supposed to know exists.
Roan of the Northlands is a man made famous by enduring his sentence on the
space station Nariasma. Lexa has seen the rugged hunk on television, but she
never imagined he’d be rescuing her from hunters who’ve paid to
kill criminals.
Roan’s strange companion Jenner is convinced Lexa is the key to their
freedom. Surviving and keeping her alive is just part of the challenge. Now
Roan has more to lose than his future. He’s made the mistake of falling
in love with Lexa, and that makes him the one thing he’s never been on
Nariasma -- vulnerable.
Roan and Jenner will give all they’ve got to protect Lexa.
Jenner’s convinced she’s the only one who can save them. But does
she have the strength to change their reality?
Lexa's mouth felt dry. She tasted a bitter metallic tang on her tongue. For a
few seconds she lay, hurting, with her eyes closed. Her head ached as she sat
up. She didn't remember much at first, but then the horror of Dom's death and
her sham of a trial came rushing back in a torrent.
She groaned and opened her eyes. The room was small. Bright light shone down
from a single fixture in the ceiling. She was dressed in a dark brown leather
corset and matching -- too tight -- leather pants. She ran her hands over her
backside. The horrible pants weren't ass-less, and she was glad of that, at
least. There was a black nylon utility vest over her shoulders. A row of
silver and gold sequins sparkled on the hem of the vest. The combination of
style and material was strange. Glam survivalist?
She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose in an attempt to clear
her foggy mind. Her stomach rolled. Someone had seen her naked when she'd been
at her most vulnerable. Shivering, she forced herself to stop thinking about
how dirty having been stripped made her feel. Pushing herself up, using the
wall, she managed to get to her feet.
The door slid open with a whoosh. Whoever designed the room had hidden the
door so well she'd never even noticed it until it opened. A tall woman watched
her mutely.
Lexa flinched under the scrutiny. "Why are you here? What's happening to me?"
Lexa screamed the questions at the woman as her hysteria rose.
"You'll have a ten second head start. Go right to avoid the desert. Get to the
trees, and you'll have a better chance. Here is your pack. It's all any of the
contestants start out with. Inside you'll find a utility knife, canteen and
matches. Millions of fans will be watching you. Take solace in knowing you
won't die alone." The woman spoke without any hint of emotion or remorse.
"I don't plan to die at all," Lexa said. She hated how this woman had written
her off. She wasn't doomed. She wasn't going to give up. Just because wealthy
men had paid for a license to hunt her didn't mean she was automatically
condemned. "I'm going to serve my time and return home."
Sympathy flickered across the woman's features, but she quickly covered the
expression with a scowl. "Few have lived long enough to serve their time. No
woman has left this place alive. Many find it easier just to walk out and wait
for the end."
"I've never been good at taking the easy way out. I'll take my chances with
the woods. Why are you giving me advice?"
"It's been a long time since we've had a woman as young as you on the show.
I'd like to make the most of your time." The tall stranger's words held the
ring of truth.
Lexa shrugged. "I'll do my best to outlast my sentence. I'd hate it if
Interplanetary Broadcasting lost ratings due to my untimely demise. How bad
can a month be?" Lexa spoke as sarcastically as possible. She didn't know if
the cameras were already watching her, but she had a feeling they might be.
Hatred for the mindless people watching her injustice boiled in her core.
Until now, she'd been just like them.
The reality of how meaningless human life was hit her with shocking force.
The woman's eyes darkened. "May the enlightenment of justice guide your path."
Her sentence had begun. The cameras were watching. The woman's use of words
made that clear. "Um, thanks, I'll make my own light. I've had a taste of
justice, and it wasn't for me." Her new reality was a terrifying example of
how deep a lie could burrow to masquerade as truth. She glared at the woman.
No matter how afraid she felt she refused to let her fear show.
The emotionless expression taking over the woman's face made her shiver. "What
happens now?" Lexa asked.
"Now you survive, or not. Either way, it'll be good TV."
Lexa's eyes widened as the woman shoved her out the door.
She ended up on an elevator and not in a hallway as she'd expected. As her
brain kicked in, she realized it was now or never. With shaking hands, she
took the items from the pack and shoved them in the few pockets her thin vest
offered. She'd seen this show a few times -- enough to know the bright orange
backpack was a good way to die.
Now she wished she'd watched more often. Her mother hated the show and always
said it was low class and not what her daughter should watch.
Just as she put the last item into a secure place and dropped the bright bag,
the elevator stopped. Her heart raced. Her heavy breathing was the only sound
she could hear.
The doors opened and bright sunlight flooded the dark space to blind her. She
took a shaky step and saw trees in the distance. She took the woman's advice
and ran toward them.
In her mind, she started to count. One... two... three... The ten seconds
would be over long before she reached the trees. She didn't look back, afraid
of what she'd see. They'd be waiting. Men had paid for the privilege of
killing her for the entertainment of bored television viewers back home.
A breeze ruffled her hair. Everything felt so real here, but it wasn't a
planet. It was a space station. Terror hit her in the stomach so hard she
stumbled. Horrified, she watched the ground coming at her face as she fell
forward. She was giving her life to those bastards too easily. Her eager
executioners would be upon her in seconds.
Eight... nine... ouch. She landed as her ten seconds ended. Rolling to her
back, she sat up only to see three well-armed men wearing body armor aiming
old-fashioned high-powered automatic rifles at her.
Death. She wasn't ready. Hands grabbed her roughly. The brutality of their
grip caused her shock to turn into terror. She didn't scream or struggle. The
raw panic kept her still. She was standing because those large hands hand
pulled her to her feet.
"Run!"
She spun around and her breath hitched in her throat. He was glorious.
Roan of the Northlands, one of the sexiest men on TV, was rescuing her. He
grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward just as the first shot rang out. Dirt
erupted next to her foot. "Go!"
About the Author
Ashlynn Monroe is a busy working mom. She loves her kids and family. Her
greatest joy is creating stories to entertain others, and she hopes they bring
a little more romance into the world. She's been writing since her teens for
her own enjoyment but decided in her thirties to share her imagination with
readers. Ashlynn enjoys biking, camping, reading, video games, and filling her
home and life with love. If she's not working or chasing children, you can
find her daydreaming up her next tale of romance.
Diahanna Aurora Hampton is here to tell us about Find Me At The Disco, romance, action.
There's also a great giveaway.
_____________________
Find Me At The Disco
Diahanna Aurora Hampton
Publication date: January 8th 2026
Genres: Action, Romance
New York, 1977. Liza Collins is struggling to reconcile her relationship with her father, Will, after a lifetime of secrets and betrayal. Upon graduating from boarding school in London, Liza returns to her hometown of New York City seeking answers about her childhood that Will has largely left unanswered. Instead of answers, Liza unearths a series of illicit affairs, sham marriages, and financial troubles her father has tried to keep buried.
As Liza struggles with these findings and navigates adulthood, she meets Jennifer Blake-a woman who introduces her to a world of drugs, alcohol, and disco. In the midst of it all, Liza then discovers something about her family that she never could have imagined, clouding her judgment and sense of self. Consequently, Will is forced to either confess his mistakes or give up on his relationship with his daughter entirely.
Liza stood awkwardly, watching people bump into each other. “That’s the best though, people moving their bodies against you. No one cares if you can’t dance, you just move to the beat and have fun.”
Before Liza could respond, a different song came on, Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love,” making people cheer and dance faster than before.
“Oh my God! I love this song, come on!” Jennifer squealed.
Liza let Jennifer pull her onto the dance floor. At first, she wasn’t really dancing. She kept getting shoved and pushed as she stood in front of Jennifer, who automatically moved to the beat. She tried to mimic her friend’s movements, but she felt unsure of herself as she struggled to get the right rhythm. Jennifer must have noticed Liza’s efforts, as she turned Liza around and placed her hands on her hips to help guide her. The song’s beat got easier for Liza to follow as she heard Donna Summer’s voice hum from the speakers.
Liza relaxed as the alcohol coursed through her veins. She let her body move under Jennifer’s direction and stopped overthinking. Jennifer turned Liza back around to face her, moving their bodies closer. Jennifer reached into her pocket to show Liza a few pills in a small plastic bag. She still moved to the beat when she popped one in her mouth and then promptly kissed Liza, transfer-ring a piece of the pill from her tongue to Liza’s. When Jennifer pulled away, she smirked.
After a few moments, Liza threw her head back as she felt the drug take hold. She saw the disco ball spinning above her, and the multicolored lights flashing around the club. Her vision blurred, coming in and out of focus like a kaleidoscope. Jennifer was behind her again bumping and grinding, leaving no room between them. Liza’s heart rate sped up, and she felt sweat drip down her neck. It was hot on the dance floor. Although she was breathing heavily, she continued to dance, letting the beat take over her movements.
They danced for several more songs, each one faster than the last. Liza’s skin was slick from sweat.
Author Bio:
Diahanna Aurora Hampton is a Boston based writer with a B.A. in Art Studies. Find Me At The Disco is her first novel.
Jonathan Wright is here to tell us about Incubus, a dark fantasy, horror, action romance.
Read on for details...
_______________________
Dark Fantasy/Horror Action Romance
Date Published: December 23, 2025
Publisher: Changeling Press LLC
Life -- and love -- with a man who fights nightmares is bound to
be… different.
Smart, capable, and lethal, Sarah Fenton never needed rescuing -- until she
met Joe Horn and his horrifying nemesis, the muck-drippy-thing. Together they
defeated that nightmare, and for the first time in decades Joe could stop
running.
In the process, Sarah discovered her weakness -- Joe. The hard-as-nails woman
becomes Joe’s willing sub -- his slave girl. Joe is a perfect Dom, but
Sarah has even darker fantasies -- lurid, sensual and totally submissive.
Sometimes, they even come to life.
Now one of them is stalking her, and she feels the awful temptation of
nightmarish pleasure. The darker the fantasy, the more intense the pleasure.
Pleasure stronger than any drug. Pleasure that threatens to drown her. The
pleasure of surrender… to an Incubus.
Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Erotica short story. Expect
limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re
looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!
Jongo infested her fantasies, dark, muscular, commanding. Sarah masturbated
three or four times a day thinking of him coming to take her, dragging her by
her hair, stumbling naked from the house, immune to his kicks and punches,
honed by years of training that would kill an ordinary man.
Not ordinary, Jongo. Not him. No. Her struggles only fed his burning hunger.
And hers. As now. As naked as she was, his huge cock throbbing and bouncing as
he walked, his grip was casual, yet inhumanly strong.
Stronger even than Joe, whom she had called Master more often than not. But
this wasn’t really about Joe…
* * *
Exhausted, struggling to keep her feet as she stumbled, Sarah gave up, then
was dragged, then followed him limply, his grip in her thick hair making her
walk head down, like a slave, cursing, then crying, then sobbing…
please, please, please.
Please, what? The demon’s strength, already huge, increased as he
stepped out of the trees onto the beach. As his foot touched the water, he
dragged her upright until she stood with her head tilted back, staring up at
him. He pushed her away, his hooded eyes nearly invisible in the shadows of
the moon. “Kneel.” He grinned as he stroked his cock with his free
hand.
Sarah stumbled and fell into knee-deep water. Rising, sputtering as water
streamed down her body, defiance failed her; words choked her. She breathed
heavily, staring at his cock.
“Recall how I took you before, so easily, wrapping you in my vines, my
seaweed, stroking your hungry body until you begged me to take you. How I made
you scream my name.”
Her legs quivered. She wanted to curse him, scream for help, for Joe
to… rescue…
Sarah had never in her life needed rescuing. Except for one time…
* * *
The wind sucked her along the dirty cement floor, into the waiting maw of that
THING, the muck-drippy-thing, as she steadied the pistol and emptied the
fourteen-round clip into its indescribable excuse for a face as the spindly
spider arms reached for her…
Then Joe was there, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her back. Stronger
than any man she had ever known. Pulling her back from the edge. Saving her.
* * *
Sarah hadn’t felt weak. Not then. Not like she felt now.
Weak. So weak. Why do I feel this way? Jongo is a monster, a creature from the
icy black depths of the harshest place on earth. Why do I feel so fucking hot?
She stroked her clit with one hand as she slowly sank to her knees in the
warm, swirling water. She spread the fingers of her other hand and teased her
nipples, shivering as she imagined being held against her will in the depths
of his lair.
“You are helpless,” Jongo told her. “Helpless.” A
ritual. A spell.
Yes. Helpless! Helpless! I am helpless! Her mouth fell open. She arched her
back, presenting her full tits.
I have to stop. I have to be strong! “No!” she gasped in a
purposely seductive parody of defiance. Wait. Purposely? Like I want this?
Jongo grinned and said nothing, continued stroking his cock. His huge, erect
cock. She couldn’t stop looking at it. At him. I love cock. I love it.Joe says I’m a cock-hungry slut. I get wet when he whispers that to me.
Helpless… His voice faded, still there, still commanding. She came with
a short, harsh cry as the orgasm claimed her.
Jongo laughed. “You have already surrendered. Do as I command! Keep
stroking yourself!”
She did. I can’t stop. I can’t disobey him. It feels so good to
obey. I want more!
“Think how my hard cock will feel in your hot, wet cunt. You will beg
for it. Beg for it, woman! Beg for my cock! For when you do, when I plunge
into you, you will be mine. My slave. Forever!”
Sarah came again, moaning this time, closing her eyes and thrusting hard,
pushing her fingers deep into her soft tits. “Yes! Jongo, fuck me! Yes!
Make me your slave! Make me your slave!”
She dropped back into the water as he fell on her, forcing her legs apart,
driving his cock into her, driving her will deep down into the chill, black
depths of his domain where it dissolved like tendrils of ink. She wrapped her
legs around him and thrust mindlessly, screaming as she came and came
and…
* * *
Sarah lay on the table on the veranda, sweating, her tits heaving, her knees
spread, hips moving rhythmically up and down in time with her frantic thrusts
as she came for the fifth time. “Ah, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She rammed
the dildo into her cunt one final time before slowly drawing it out. Her whole
body quivered, drenched in sweat, as she lowered her legs and stretched,
groaning.
“Well, I think you must clean off that table before you use it for
anything else.”
Sarah gasped in shock, but without shame or embarrassment.
Belle stood not three feet away, a gorgeous Jamaican woman of medium height
and surpassing curves, dressed in paint spattered clothes and carrying various
implements of artistic creation. “You missing your man Joe? He’s
only been gone a day.” Belle arched one elegant brow for emphasis.
Sarah dropped the dildo and draped one arm over her sweaty face. “You
have no idea…” Joe liked to watch her fuck herself like that.
Imagining him doing so made it hotter for her.
Belle chuckled and began setting up an easel. “So hot for your Dom, you
maybe forget we had an appointment to paint those luscious curves?”
About the Author
Jonathan Wright retired to the northeast, where he is surrounded by family and
trees in about equal numbers. In his free time he enjoys thinking up
erotically terrifying situations for his characters, who insist they
don’t like that sort of thing. When he isn’t writing about
slavering fangs in the dark he does weird-ass paintings.
He has a daughter who will admit to the relationship under duress. He puts up
with her because she makes great cookies.
We don't know why she puts up with him.
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15
Matthew Devitt is here to tell us about The Quest for Freedom, The Conquest Trilogy Book 1, dark epic fantasy, action, adventure.
The book is 99¢.
There's also a great giveaway.
_____________________________
One man against the world
The Quest for Freedom
The Conquest Trilogy Book 1
by Matthew Devitt
Genre: Dark Epic Fantasy, Action, Adventure
Affer was once a peaceful planet, until a war broke out
between its six inhabiting species. The humans, who were once the mightiest
force on Affer, were massacred in droves, and the ones who survived the
onslaught were reduced to mere slaves. The five other species divided the
humans amongst themselves and returned to their respective kingdoms.
The years passed, turning into decades and centuries, without any change.
Eventually, the humans had accepted their fate as slaves. All except one. Four
hundred and seventy-three years later, Fletcher Rush starts his journey to free
his kind...and conquer the planet.
I've always had a love for fantasy, and to this day LOTR and
The Inheritance Cycle remain some of my favorite books. There are limitless
possibilities when you're writing, but with fantasy, it's different. You don't
have to adhere to rules or logic; you can create whatever type of world you
want. Characters can live in a dystopian society, a grand futuristic city, a
picture-perfect world, or a medieval wasteland. Time, technology, and magic are
all there for the taking, and as a writer, you get to choose what defines your
story.
