Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts

Monday, January 5, 2026

Spirit Bear Conspiracy - Brotherhood of the Wild #1 - MC Romantic Suspense - and a Giveaway #Romance #MC #RomanticSuspense #Giveaway

Anne Kane is here to tell us about Spirit Bear Conspiracy, Brotherhood of the Wild #1, MC romantic suspense.

There's also a great giveaway.

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My mission: Save my woman, guard the secret of the Spirit Bear, and take down the poachers.


Spirit Bear Conspiracy

Brotherhood of the Wild #1

by Anne Kane

Genre: MC Romantic Suspense



My mission: Save my woman, guard the secret of the rare spirit bear, and take down the poachers.

 

Ryland -- I was tailing a gang of poachers, certain they’d lead me straight to their kingpin, when a stray arrow from a crossbow slammed into me. Pain lanced through me and everything faded to black. In that blur of unconsciousness, I could have sworn a pure white bear stood over me, calm as can be. When I opened my eyes again, a woman -- curvy and impossibly beautiful -- was watching me with the cutest look of mixed concern and distrust on her face.

 

Kimberly -- I thought I was alone on a tiny island off the coast of British Columbia until an arrow from a crossbow barely missed skewering me. With my dog Diego at my heels, I ran to hide in a maze of caves, my heart pounding. Crouched down in the dark, I listened in terror as voices and footsteps floated to me from outside. I prayed the shooters wouldn’t find the spirit bear that inhabited this place. When I finally crept back out into the daylight, I found I wasn’t the only target -- but the unconscious man lying in a pool of his own blood wasn’t talking. Victim or one of them?

 

WARNING: This Riptide action-adventure romance includes violence, abuse, coarse language, vigilante justice, and adult situations. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after. Enjoy!

  

What readers are saying:

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆5 out of 5 stars.

Diego Rules Poachers Drool !

Loved the start of The Brotherhood series !! It has loose ties to the Author’s other series called Riptide MC ! The characters Kimberly and Ryland are well written and a lot of fun to read. The storyline has real world implications in the animal poaching and for animals living in shelters, so please be careful if such stories cause you any emotional distress. The book has a lot of action both in and out of the “bedroom”. I can’t wait to read book 2. 5✨’s for an action packed read !. · Dianna Rule TX

 

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Changeling Press * Kobo * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

 



Spirit Bears 

Spirit bears (aka Kermode bears -- Ursus americanus kermodei) are a subspecies of the North American black bear with a rare recessive gene that makes their fur white or cream. Spirit bears are found only in the Great Bear Rainforest, the world’s largest intact temperate rainforest. Estimated spirit bear population numbers no more than 400 individuals. The First Nations communities who have lived in the region for thousands of years call the spirit bear moskgm’ol, or “white bear,” and view the animal as sacred.

Many thanks to BBC Wildlife for their Spirit Bear Guide.


 Ryland 

I watched the woman looming above me through slitted eyes. So far, she thought I was still out cold, and I intended to use that to my advantage. I hadn’t seen a female with the poachers, but why else would she be here? There was nothing on this island to attract a beautiful woman like her.

She pulled her shirt off, and then her undergarment. What the hell did they call those things? It didn’t matter because now I had an unobstructed view of her naked chest. Wow. Her breasts were small, a mere handful each, but they were firm and pert, the nipples pointing upward with a decidedly cheeky tilt to them. All in all, she had to be the cutest poacher I’d ever seen.

The dog whined softly. Darn thing probably knew I was faking it. Unfortunately, animals tended to be a lot smarter than the people they kept company with.

He didn’t appear to be aggressive but looks could be deceiving. He certainly wasn’t a small pup. Maybe part shepherd? Or Rottweiler, given the coloring. I could only hope he wasn’t a trained attack dog.

Why on earth would the gang have brought a dog with them? Poachers didn’t tend to be animal lovers. Maybe they used him to alert them to people approaching. Hell, maybe the dog was the reason I’d got shot.

Suddenly he didn’t look so harmless.

The woman leaned toward me, that underwear thing in her hand and I turned my full attention to her. Time to turn the tables on the cute little thing.

I waited until she was leaning directly over top of me to strike. Reaching out with my good arm, I grasped her wrist and twisted it, neatly flipping her over on her back and landing myself straddling her hips.

Damn, that hurt.

I barely managed to school my face into a fierce grimace.

The dog rose to his feet, growling a warning. I turned my head and growled back.

“Seriously? You’re sitting on top of me and growling at my dog instead of letting me bandage your arm so it doesn’t get infected? What kind of idiot are you?” The woman glared up at me with one eyebrow raised in question. Apparently, I didn’t look as intimidating as I’d thought.

Ignoring her remarks about my IQ, I scowled down at her. “Who are you, and what are you doing on this island?” I tried to sound as menacing as possible, but I had the sinking feeling it was going to take a lot more than a growly male to scare this woman.

“I could ask you the same question. I’ve never seen you here before and I come here a lot.” She looked kind of cute, glaring up at me. Under different circumstances I might even consider asking her out.

I gave my head a mental shake. Wow. Loss of blood was starting to affect my decision making.

The dog let out a low whimper, settling back down on his haunches. Cocking his head on an angle, he regarded me calmly. Apparently, he had decided to give me the benefit of the doubt… at least for now.

“I’m the one on top here so I get to ask the questions.” I felt the need to point out the obvious. “Who are you?”

She raised both brows, looking decidedly pissed. “Well, right now I’m a prisoner of an idiot who will probably pass out from lack of blood shortly. Unless, of course, he comes to his senses and hauls his carcass off me so I can bandage his bloody arm.”

This was not going the way I intended at all. “That’s not what I meant. What’s your name? Why are you here?” Maybe it would help my concentration if I stopped staring at her luscious stream of silky dark hair.

“I don’t think I want to answer that. How about you tell me your name and why you think it’s okay to manhandle a woman who was just trying to help you.”

The dog let out an approving woof.

“I’m the victim. I’m bleeding. Remember?” I was starting to feel like I was somehow at fault.

“Yes, and if you’d get off me, I’d be able to do something about that. You might want to consider that I’m not the one who injured you.”

“I’m not so sure about that. How do I know you’re not going to finish me off if I let go of you?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “I just told you I wasn’t the one who shot you. If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it while you were lying unconscious at my feet.”

She did have a point. I let go of her arms and clambered awkwardly off her, favoring my injured arm.

“Okay, I get it. You’re probably not the one who attacked me. Damn arm’s starting to bleed again, and it definitely needs a new bandage. The last thing I need is to let it get infected.” I held my arm out for her inspection.

The woman got to her feet, her body language stiff and angry. She ignored me as she brushed herself off. Finally, she glanced at my arm. “No thanks. I don’t think I want to help you anymore.”






Award winning author Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue mutt(Merlin the Wonder Dog), a slightly larger rescue dog (Lexi the Aussie Shepherd) a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many fish to count. She has two handsome sons and seven adorable grandchildren. She’s always been fascinated by science fiction and fantasy so of course when she writes, she lets her imagination take over. The one thing the reader can always count on is that the main characters will live happily ever after, even if they have to defeat a few nasty aliens first.

When she's not busy writing the next great novel, she likes to kayak, hike, ride motorcycles, swim, skate, practice karate, play her guitar, sing and of course, read.

 

Website * Facebook * X * Bluesky * Pinterest * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

 


Follow the tour HERE for special content and a $10 giveaway!


Enter the Spirit Bear Conspiracy Giveaway Here




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Saturday, January 3, 2026

Surrendering to You - Priestly Family Series Book 3 - Contemporary Romance - and a Giveaway #Romance #ContemporaryRomance #Giveaway

Sharon C. Cooper is here to tell us about Surrendering to You, book 3 in the Priestly Family Series, contemporary romance.

There's also a great giveaway.

_______________________


His betrayal cost him the only woman he has ever loved. 

Now, he’s determined to win her back.

Surrendering To You

Priestly Family Series Book 3

by Sharon C. Cooper

Genre: Contemporary Romance


His betrayal cost him the only woman he has ever loved. Now, he’s determined to win her back.

 

On the football field Tristan Whitmore might be an MVP, but after a recent career-ending injury, his world is flipped upside down. He takes little comfort in his many NFL achievements and a bank account bulging with more money than he could ever spend. His life feels like it’s over… until he reconnects with the one woman he’s never forgotten. Too bad she hates him.

 

Entertainment lawyer, Cree Priestly is not the forgiving type. Betray her once, and you’re dead to her. Which is why Tristan will never get a second chance with her. She lost too much the last time he charmed her into falling in love with him. Letting that happen again would make her a fool. But when he kisses her, all the buried memories of love, desire, and passionate nights come rushing back.

 

But can Cree afford to surrender her heart to Tristan again? Or are some betrayals impossible to move past?

 

*All books in this series can be read as standalones.

 

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Smashwords * Bookbub * Goodreads

 


“Oh boy. Don’t look now, but your—”

“He’s not my anything,” Cree ground out. “And I think this is a good time to end our visit. I need to get going anyway. We can talk about Dorian’s wedding later.”

“Cree, stop. Just talk to him. It’s been years, and you both deserve some closure.”

“I got closure when I told him to lose my damn telephone number and to go to hell.”

Cree knew she was being a jerk, but Tristan was still a sore topic with her. Seeing him again brought back too many memories, and they weren’t all good.

She gathered her large bag, which doubled as a purse and laptop carrier, and then she grabbed her trash.

“I’m out of here,” she said and blew her sister a kiss before walking away.

If Cree was lucky, she might be able to slip past Tristan without him seeing her. He’d been forced to retire from the NFL, the National Football League, after an injury, and she’d heard he had moved back to Chicago.

God, she hoped that wasn’t true. They probably traveled in the same circles, and that would mean there was a good chance she’d run into him more than she’d prefer.

Taking advantage of the crowd that surrounded him, Cree moved around the perimeter of the space and kept her head down while making her way to the door. She had barely touched the handle before she jolted from the feel of a large hand on her hip.

She froze, but not before a zap of energy flowed through her body at his touch. She knew that touch. Hell, she’d feel that touch even if she had on three layers of clothing. Tristan had always had that effect on her.

 “Cree, wait. We need to talk,” he said by way of greeting. His deep baritone sent goosebumps racing over her skin. She didn’t want to talk, and she sure as hell didn’t want to look at him, but she had to.

When she turned to face him, anger nipped at every nerve in her body. Damn him for looking so good. He was still the finest man on the face of the planet with honey-brown skin, eyes the color of almonds with flecks of gold around his irises, and twin dimples in his cheeks.

As if knowing she was admiring his beautiful face, he amped up his smile, and she cursed under her breath.

Damn those twin dimples. The ones deep enough in his cheeks to stick her fingers in. And damn him for flashing them so freely in public knowing they were babe magnets.

“We have nothing to talk about,” she spat, anger lacing the words.

“On the contrary, baby. We have a lot to discuss.”

Cree turned from him and moved just beyond the threshold, but he held on to the back of her jacket while he stood in the doorway. He didn’t seem to care he was blocking the entrance, keeping anyone from entering or exiting. The small crowd that had formed around him minutes ago was still there, vying for the attention of the other former NFL player whose name had slipped her mind.

As for Tristan, Cree didn’t want to talk to him. That would only encourage him to keep showing up everywhere she went.

No, she needed to stay as far away from the man as possible. His presence was a hindrance to her peace of mind. It was because of him that she had trust issues, especially when it came to men. He was the reason she had taken on the motto—don’t let anyone get too close because in the end they’ll only betray you.

“The old Cree didn’t run from anything,” he said, his voice lowered. “Yet, you’ve run from me twice in a matter of weeks.”

Her jaw clenched and unclenched. “The old Cree would’ve already kneed you in the balls to make you release my jacket. Either let me go or...”

Tristan flinched, then quickly released her jacket and chuckled. “I see you’re still mean as hell.” The words weren’t spoken in a negative way. There was humor in his tone and in his eyes. “Please,” he said, all humor wiped from his face. “I really do need to talk to you.”

Cree searched his eyes and saw the sincerity in them. She almost gave in to his request until she remembered—she hated him.

“There’s nothing for us to discuss. As a matter of fact, forget you ever saw me, and if you see me out and about, don’t even look at me.

“And on that note, goodbye, Tristan.”

Now all she had to do was forget she’d ever seen him. Which might be easier said than done.



Don’t miss the rest of the series! They can be read as standalones!


Believing In You

Priestly Family Series Book 1

Amazon * More Links



Finding You

Priestly Family Series Book 2

Amazon * More Links



USA Today bestselling author Sharon C. Cooper loves anything involving romance with a happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. She writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, as well as romantic comedy. She enjoys rainy days, carpet picnics, and family game night. Her stories have won numerous awards, including The Rochelle Alers Best Series award for her Atlanta’s Finest Series (2022) and The Beverly Jenkins Author of the Year award (2021). When she isn’t writing, Sharon loves hanging out with her amazing husband, doing volunteer work, or reading a good book (a romance of course). To read more about Sharon and her novels, or to sign up to be notified of her latest releases, visit www.sharoncooper.net

 

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bluesky * Pinterest * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

 


Follow the tour HERE for special content and a $20 giveaway!


Enter the Surrendering To You Giveaway Here



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Friday, January 2, 2026

The Dhampir - A Destined Mates Vampire Romance Novella - Dark Fantasy Romance #Romance #DarkFantasyRomance #DestinedMates

Angela Knight is here to tell us about The Dhampir, a destined mates vampire romance novella, dark fantasy.

Read on for more...

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A Destined Mates Vampire Romance Novella


Dark Fantasy Romance

Date Published: January 2, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press



An ancient vampire, Hunter can command any woman he wants -- except the one woman he needs. His mate.

Genevieve Drake is a Dhampir -- half vampire, half mortal, born and bred to be the perfect complement to her vampire mate, like those of her family for sixteen generations. Instead, she chose to become a cop. Three months ago she survived a vicious attack by a psychotic ex that left her with psychic scars and a desperate need for a new line of work. Time to rethink her future.

Hunter is tall, dark and handsome -- and very, very powerful. He’s also been waiting for Genevieve. She was just eighteen when he had a vision that they’d one day become lovers. He’s been biding his time ever since. But Genevieve’s experiences have left her unable to trust any man, even Hunter.

If he wants them to have a future, the vampire will have to find a way to banish her ghosts…


Excerpt

Copyright ©2026 Angela Knight


The vampire's bodyguard was sloppy when he searched Genevieve Drake. He missed at least three places where she could have stashed weapons. Would have stashed weapons, if she hadn't been going to an interview for a job she desperately needed. To add insult to injury, he smirked up at her when he crouched at her feet to pat her down, hands lingering on her thighs and calves.


Genevieve gave serious thought to kneeing him in the jaw.


Finally, after a last knowing leer, the guard ushered her into Hunter's sprawling office, then closed the heavy double doors and left them alone.


"Ms. Drake." Tall, radiating a power that made her Dhampir senses vibrate like harp strings, the vampire stepped around his big rosewood desk to shake Genevieve's hand, his grip careful and warm. His touch sent a flush of magic radiating up her arm. Her mouth went dry, and she felt her nipples peak. "It's a pleasure."


Her body's intense response surprised her. She'd felt dead from the neck down for months. "Please call me Genevieve, Mr. Hunter." Not Genny. Never Genny. Smiling up at him, she used all her years undercover to keep her expression no more than pleasantly professional.


"It's just Hunter," the vampire said in a black velvet purr of a voice. He gave her a slow, white smile, his eyes the sharp and startling blue of an arctic wolf. His features were starkly masculine, with a long swoop of a nose and a broad, square chin. His hair was thick and black, just long enough to touch his collar.


He gestured her away from his desk toward two armchairs that sat facing each other. Just beyond the chairs, a plate glass window ran the length of the room. Sixty stories below, the glittering glory of Atlanta spread across the night.


As Hunter ushered her to the chairs, Genevieve studied him. If anything, the vampire was more impressive than she remembered. Easily six-foot-two, he had a powerful build that made him look like a warrior even camouflaged in black Armani. His tie was a splash of crimson against his white shirt, while cufflinks of onyx and gold adorned his French cuffs.


"It's good to see you again," Hunter said as they sat. The chairs were positioned so close, their knees almost touched. It was not exactly the arrangement she'd have expected for a job interview -- but then, this was not a typical job interview. "You were what -- fifteen? -- when last I saw you."


"Sixteen," Genevieve corrected. And madly infatuated with you. But that was something she had no intention of sharing. And anyway, it had been fourteen years ago.


Before Gary. Before she'd been left bleeding in a dirty alley with the last of her illusions in shreds.


Hunter probably knew about her painfully intense crush. Probably knew about Gary, too, for that matter. As her father always said, you can't hide anything from a vampire, so don't even try. "It was good of you to grant me this interview."


"Not at all. I need an assistant, and you have excellent qualifications." He watched her settle back into the chair's soft wine red leather. His gaze sharpened. "Something concerns you."


Genevieve hesitated, caught between her desire not to offend and her sense of duty. She needed the job, but her family had been Dhampir for sixteen generations.


Duty won. "Your bodyguard was more interested in feeling me up than in making sure I wasn't armed. I could have knocked him cold at least twice. In my opinion, he constitutes a security risk."


Hunter lifted a cool black brow. "He's a former Navy SEAL."


"And a current idiot."


"You are blunt, bordering on rude." Hunter smiled, satisfaction in his eyes. "And every bit as fearless as I would have expected of Tommy Drake's daughter."


She relaxed back into her chair. "Well, that's a relief."


"That I took the criticism well?" His arctic eyes heated to burning blue as he watched her cross her legs. Her knee inadvertently brushed his, and the contact sent magic flaring up her thigh. Straight into her sex.


She tried to ignore the pulse of erotic heat that flared low in her belly. "No, I'm relieved you ordered your man to play the fool to test my honesty. I'd hate to think you'd hire someone that sloppy."


The vampire laughed, a deep, masculine rumble, seductive and warm. "No, I have not survived three hundred and forty years by surrounding myself with sloppy bodyguards. And there've been times even careful ones..." Hunter stopped and rolled his powerful shoulders as if shrugging off a painful memory.


"Sometimes it doesn't matter how careful or well-trained you are." Genevieve's voice dropped to a whisper. "Especially if you're betrayed."


He studied her, going still as a predator. Seeing too much. "The scars from betrayal go to the soul. And they never quite fade, do they?"


"Not so far." Genevieve forced a smile and deliberately sought to turn the conversation back to business. "What are you looking for in a personal assistant?"


You, Hunter thought.

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades, Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work, Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police department.

 

Author Links

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

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

Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15



RABT Book Tours & PR



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Sunday, December 28, 2025

Cole for Christmas - A Friends to Lovers BDSM Menage - RomCom #Romance #FriendstoLovers #BDSM #Menage #RomCom

Treva Harte is here to tell us about Cole for Christmas, a friends to lovers BDSM menage romcom.

Read on for details...

________________
 



A Friends to Lovers BDSM Ménage


Christmas / Romance / Comedy

Date Published: December 23, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press




Sarah has a secret -- she wants her best friend Cole. Cole wants Jeff. And Jeff? Surprise! He wants them both.

Cole is wild, funny, impulsive, and Sarah’s best friend. She doesn’t understand what he gets out of submission, but she’s not going to let Cole get hurt the way he has in the past. So when she discovers his new dom is Jeff, the jerk who helped kick her out of her undergraduate program, she knows she has to intervene.

But when she sees Jeff again, she’s confused. He says he wants Sarah to be Cole’s Christmas present, and she’s stunned. She and Cole are just friends, aren't they? Amazingly, Cole seems to want her as much as she secretly has wanted him. The even bigger surprise? She realizes she wants Jeff too.

Even if she could have them both, this is supposed to be temporary. It’s too bad she’s only allowed to have Cole for Christmas.

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Treva Harte


“What’s wrong with you, Cole?” Sarah stared at her friend over the flimsy coffee container. “You have to go pee pee? You’ve been twitchy ever since we got here.”

Cole laughed and gave her the finger. He opened his mouth as if to give a smart-ass answer but then bent over his latte instead. Not looking at her, he carefully blew on it and took a sip.

Sarah settled back. Cole was obviously dying to tell her something, and she knew from experience all she needed to do was sit. If he waited more than ten minutes before spilling everything, he’d probably keel over from the strain.

The clatter of students milling around the student union coffee shop made the silence less noticeable. They continued drinking.

Two minutes of just downing caffeine. Impressive. Cole was hanging tough.

He shifted again in his seat and shut his eyes, grimacing. Sarah frowned, suddenly a little concerned. Cole was a genius -- a real, measured-by-testing genius -- but that didn’t mean his emotional IQ always matched his intelligence. She was sure it was a challenge to be five to ten years younger than his academic peers, and Cole didn’t always meet that challenge. In fact, Cole could be kind of a pain in the ass. Right now he was acting like he had a literal pain there.

Oh. Ohhhh, boy. He might actually have one. Please God, no. She might have to venture into TMI territory to find out.

Cole had been more than forthcoming about his sex life in the two years they’d been in grad school together. That was a problem for him. Younger and smarter in some things had made him vulnerable in others, especially since he was open about his sexual preferences and desires. Gay at the university was one thing; gay and dedicated to BDSM was another.

“Has someone hurt you?” She hoped that question would get the job done. Sarah could be more direct, if need be, but she also probably didn’t want to know all the particulars.

“No.” His prompt answer was a relief. Of course, he had to add, “Not any more than I want to be.”

“Ooookay.” Sarah set down her cup. Sometimes a friend had a duty to ask more even if she’d so much rather not. “Have you met some new dom?”

“You know I have. I told you about him.” Cole didn’t look up from his latte, but he didn’t sound reluctant to answer.

“You mentioned you’d met someone new at a club a few weeks ago, but you didn’t say anything more.” That wasn’t like her Cole at all now that she thought about it. “Is that the guy?”

“Fuck yeah. I was incredibly lucky that night. He hardly ever goes to clubs. Says they’re too fake for his tastes.” Cole squirmed again. “He isn’t into scenes. Not public ones.”

“So you’ve been -- um -- doing things outside of clubs?” Sarah wasn’t sure which sounded more dangerous. Cole wouldn’t know danger if it bit him on the butt. Especially if it bit him on the butt.

“At his place. Sarah, it’s… intense. And really sexy.” Cole grinned at her. “That’s all I’ll say unless you want me to go on. I know how you get.”

“And I know how you get, so thanks for shutting up.” She grinned back at him, and Cole shifted his weight again. Sarah sighed. “All right, Cole. Why are you acting this way? Something is going on.”

Cole leaned over, then glanced around to make sure no one was listening. Oh God. He felt the need to keep something private. This was going to be a doozy.

“Because I have a butt plug in me. A big one. It’s driving me crazy. Especially because it’s pressing on my fucking prostate.”

Sarah made a faint protesting noise and covered her eyes. “I don’t want to know.”

“When I see Jeff after work, he’s going to take it out and replace it with --”

“Don’t want to know, don’t want to know. Don’t. Wanna. Know.” Sarah covered her ears instead.

Cole pushed down one of her hands and whispered, “Unless you want to pull it out for me. Jeff might get mad, but it would be worth it if your dainty, lily-white fingers would take care of things for me right now. It might even be fun.”

Sarah clenched her dainty, lily-white fingers and smacked him on the shoulder with her plastic spoon.

Cole leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Stunned, Sarah dropped the spoon on the table. For such a demonstrative guy, Cole pretty much kept his hands and lips to himself. Well, at least around women. She’d seen guys pass him around like an appetizer at parties. Obviously that kind of touching was different for him.

Oh, shit. After remembering some of those party images, she felt a sudden pang of lust. She took a deep breath. Now she could see herself testing that butt plug, imagine what Cole’s tight ass looked like holding it. His gasp when it moved. Damn it, she didn’t need to have that thought in her head. Talk about waste of time! Cole was completely off-limits. He’d never be her appetizer. Friends. They were friends. She’d gotten over her stupid crush long ago. That didn’t mean she couldn’t admit to herself he was sexy. In an off-limits way. She didn’t need to start thinking he was available after working so hard to forget he was hot.

“I knew I’d make you do that, but you did ask.” Cole sounded a little too smug.

Sarah looked up. Oh Lord, how could he know about her completely inappropriate thoughts?

Cole rubbed his shoulder, grimacing as if she’d really hurt him. Then he stopped and winked.

Oh. Right. Very funny. She’d hit him. They had a standing joke about his smart mouth and his need for punishment.

“Actually, what I really wanted to ask was what you had planned for Christmas.” She didn’t care if it was an obvious change of subject. Cole could go on pushing her buttons for hours. Besides, she did want to ask.

Last year Cole went with her to see her parents. Cole had way too many experiences with judgmental families like his own, and he’d been apprehensive about the whole thing, especially meeting her officer father. But Dad had been Dad, and Cole had been Cole, and everyone had a great time, just the way Sarah’d expected. This year Mom and Dad had shipped out to Japan, so neither she nor Cole would be seeing their families. She’d hoped they could hang out together for the two weeks while the grad dorms closed during winter break.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you! I’m planning on a trip to a ski lodge in Wyoming all during break.”

“You don’t ski.” Sarah skied but couldn’t afford a weekend, much less weeks at a resort. Life was so unfair.

“I like skiers. And cowboys. Jeff owns a place there.” Cole crumpled his cup and tossed it into the garbage.

“Oh. Jackson Hole?” Sarah snickered. “I could see you headed there just for the name.”

So now she knew this Jeff had money, was a skier, and maybe was a little pretentious. Two out of three wasn’t bad. Especially if he had a ski lodge.

“Grand Targhee. Jeff says it’s even better than Jackson Hole, although not as many people have heard of it.”

So unfair. Sarah had heard of it, and everything she’d heard agreed with what Cole -- who was obviously clueless -- had said. The place wasn’t even that pretentious. If Cole’s new man turned out to be perfect, she’d have to be happy Cole was going away with him on the kind of holiday break she’d want.

And that was so unfair double time. It also meant she had no one to share Christmas with. She didn’t need another reminder that she’d worked too hard, frozen too many people out, had no life. Cole, who bubbled over with curiosity and energy, always made even the bleakest times fun. She’d been counting on him to carry her through this first really big holiday without her parents.

Well, she’d have to get over it. A military brat got used to being around strangers. Maybe she could scrounge up enough money to take a little road trip by herself or get a fancier hotel than she’d planned. It didn’t sound like fun now, but she would work on it.

“You wanna come along?”

 

About the Author

Treva Harte has always been an overachiever. She also collects things. First it was degrees. First a B.A. in English, then she decided to go back for a Master's degree. Not content with that, she added a J.D. Since then she's added a husband, also an attorney, and two children to her collection. She's continuing her ways as an overachiever, writing her wonderfully offbeat tales of passion and possibilities -- in her spare time.

Visit her website at www.trevaharte.com.


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Saturday, December 27, 2025

Incubus - Dark Fantasy - Horror - Action Romance #Romance #DarkFantasy #Horror #Action

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!


Excerpt
Copyright ©2025 Jonathan Wright

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



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