My Chaotic Ramblings

#𝗡𝗢𝗪𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘 Prisoner, Book Two in the Russian Tattoos Series by Author K.M. Shehata

2026-04-14T10:00:00.004-04:00

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A Russian mafia romance laced with vengeance, loyalty, and a love that refuses to die.

Carter thought she escaped the Bratva.

She was dead wrong.

When her past with Vladimir Ivanov resurfaces, Carter is dragged back into a world ruled by power, secrets, and control—where walking away with a pulse is no longer an option.

Vladimir reigns as the Pakhan of the Ivanov Bratva, an empire built on blood, loyalty, and fear. He’s survived betrayal, war, and prison—but one woman still has the power to unravel him. As enemies close in and the Bratva turns against her, Vladimir has only one choice.

Protect Carter at all costs.

Even if it makes her his prisoner.

With a bounty on her head, Carter becomes both Vladimir’s greatest weakness and his most dangerous weapon. Bound together by obsession, survival, and a past neither can outrun, their connection deepens—blurring the line between protection and possession, love and captivity.

As a mafia war ignites in Russia, a rival Bratva boss wants Vladimir’s crown—and the woman he loves.

And he’s willing to burn everything to claim both.

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K.M. Shehata’s stories explore power, obsession, and relationships shaped by control, desire, and consequence. Known for blending emotional intensity with morally complex characters, she crafts narratives that pull readers in and refuse to let go.

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Redemption Road, Book Two in the Hell’s Raiders Series by Author Katie Ashley is 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖!

2026-04-13T10:00:00.003-04:00

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Born into a powerful political family, I’ve spent my life being sheltered by wealth and privilege. In an effort to fly free of my gilded cage, I embrace a relationship with a man my family would never accept–a biker bad boy from a notorious MC club. But my brief taste of freedom results in a betrayal that lands me trafficked into a hell on earth I never could have imagined.

Born and bred into the Hells Raiders MC, I’ve spent my life devoted to the club. With the President patch now stitched on my cut, I would give my life for my brothers. But when I become the unexpected savior of a rival club’s captive, I put everyone at risk with my personal mission to shelter Annabel from the madman who hunts her and the nightmares that torment her.

Despite being from two different worlds, we bond through our shared trauma. But as Anabel begins to heal, the glaring differences between our worlds become more evident. Can she ever accept the life I lead, or will I be forced to choose between the only life I’ve ever known and the woman I was never supposed to love?

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Katie Ashley is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon Top Three Best-Selling author of both Indie and Traditionally published books. She's written rockers, bikers, billionaires, manwhores with hearts of gold, New Adult, and Young Adult. She lives outside of Atlanta, Georgia with her daughter, Olivia, her rescue mutts, Belle and Nova, and her cats, Mama Kitty, Joe, and Jake. She has a slight obsession with The Golden Girls, Shakespeare, Harry Potter, and Star Wars.

She holds a BA in English, a BS in Secondary English Education, and a Masters in Adolescent English Education and spent fourteen years teaching both middle and high school English, as well as a few adjunct college English classes.

Although she is a life-long Georgia peach, she loves traveling the country and world meeting readers.

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{Cover Reveal} Hades' Revenge by Ella Jade

2026-03-09T09:00:00.001-04:00

Title: Hades' Revenge

Series: Morally Gray Gods #1

Author: Ella Jade

Genre: Dark Romance

Tropes: Age Gap/Father's Enemy/Daddy Vibes

Cover Design: Dark City Designs

Model: Wander Aguiar

Release Date: September 23, 2026

BLURB

When a vicious assassin is banished from the only life he’s ever known, he starts over only to be tempted by the goddaughter he hasn’t seen in almost twenty years.

Hades

Vindictive, malicious, some would even say sadistic…

I couldn’t argue with any of those assessments. We are who we are. I’m a vengeful assassin who will stop at nothing to make those who wronged me pay. And I’m thirsty for revenge.

Eighteen years ago, I took the fall for a man who was like a brother to me. I even vowed to protect his daughter by becoming her godfather— and then he betrayed me.

Two decades later, his daughter, now a stunning woman, strolls into my life, having no idea who I am or what I’m capable of. Capri takes an unhealthy interest in me, the older and dangerous man, and I don’t do anything to discourage her. I welcome her obsession because it suits me.

When her infatuation with me grows stronger, I prove just how vindictive, malicious, and sadistic I really am. Is she the opportunity I need to enact my revenge against her father or is she the reason I finally let this vendetta go?

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AUTHOR BIO

USA Today Bestselling author Ella Jade writes dark mafia romances with dominating mob bosses, the strong women who challenge them, and suspenseful twists that keep her readers turning the pages.

When she isn’t reading or writing sexy, angsty, and intense words, she indulges in a well-crafted martini and binge watches episodes of Dallas, Falcon Crest, and Dynasty, where she learned at an early age how to spin an old-school cliffhanger. She also enjoys spoiling her two chihuahua writing companions.

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{Teaser} Impulse Caught by Emily Carrington

2026-03-03T09:00:00.001-05:00

A Sticks & Stones Romance

Marisburg Chronicles 9

M/M Romance Suspense

Date Published: March 6, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

Riku takes charge in bed, but will he have any control over the day-to-day decisions of a marriage?

Money and status differences challenge Riku and Theo to find a middle ground. Their passion is white-hot, but their ideas of living comfortably are at odds. As their wedding nears, driven forward by Theo’s parents’ sense of guilt, Riku feels the old urge to run.

Riku refuses to give into this impulse at first, but as the comparison between his emotional scars and the mountains of Theo’s familial expectations grow, Riku fears running will be the only less-than-honorable course left to him.

Theo isn’t blind to Riku’s struggles but he doesn’t understand what’s wrong. Each time he reaches out, Riku reaches back, yet they never quite connect. Will their need for each other overcome their differences, or will their passion be subsumed by a wave of conflicting desires?

Excerpt

It was the day after the children had left for the summer. There would be ESY, of course, extended school year, but Riku hadn’t been asked to participate. He’d only been a teacher at the Colton school for the deaf since January, so it made sense he wouldn’t be first pick for ESY. He would have normally chewed over that until he was ill, but since Theo had gone back to work in February, they were living relatively comfortably. Riku’s student loans still put a squeeze on him, but he could manage without panicking.

He was sorting through papers posted on the walls. Most of them had gone home with their makers yesterday, but there were a few that hadn’t been collected. These he grouped into a folder he marked “leftover assignments” and stored for early September.

He glanced toward where Theo was wiping down desks, and Riku had to catch his breath. His fiancé was dressed in casual clothes, but he looked like a Greek statue come to life. Attired in a green T-shirt and jeans shorts, he looked younger than he was because of the cutoffs, but not like jailbait. He was thirty-two, having gained another year in mid-April. Unfortunately, Riku had also aged a year, so they were still a decade apart.

The brush of Theo’s medium brown hair on his green-clad shoulders made Riku think of a book he’d read in high school. It had been about a man who could sing magic into the world. His hair had been red as his Irish heritage, but the physical differences didn’t matter. Theo could definitely have sung magic into Riku’s heart, or anywhere else he chose. His broad shoulders stretched the T-shirt over his pectorals and his shorts showed off his long, muscular legs.

If they weren’t at school, Riku would have suggested they quit working and go goof off instead. Unfortunately, they weren’t in their rented room in Marisburg.

Turning his attention back to his chosen task, he went to the bookshelf and started organizing the books. Ninety percent of the books were in print, but the remaining ones were in print and braille, for his students who, like Theo, had Usher Syndrome or other hearing/vision challenges. He wasn’t the braille teacher, could barely feel the dots under his fingers, truth be told. Still, he liked the idea of providing all kinds of different access to literature. Probably that was part of what made him an effective English teacher.

With his back to Theo as he organized the books, he reflected that today most likely wouldn’t see the two of them making love.

Half a year ago, Theo’s parents, courtesy of his father’s quick tongue, had alienated themselves from their son. Mr. Billings had told Theo that if he could prove himself self-sufficient for six months, he would be welcomed back into the familial fold. Theo’s father had apologized, all but falling over his words in an attempt to retreat from the ultimatum but Theo had taken up the challenge.

Now it was the end of that six months. Theo hadn’t been out of communication with his parents, but certain topics, like his relationship with Riku, had been off-limits. As had his access to the family fortunes.

Theo had been, for the past six months, surviving on his own brilliant mind and on his ability to work from anywhere. Today, though, Theo would be reopening full communication with his parents.

Riku wasn’t sure if he should be dreading that time as much as he was.

It wasn’t that Theo hadn’t been talking to his parents. He just hadn’t accepted any monetary handouts from them, and he’d refused to discuss his relationship with Riku. It was easy to trust him, to believe he had suspended those ties temporarily. Theo was prideful and wouldn’t bend. Besides, the two of them had engaged in actual arguments about money, like any other couple.

Riku found himself smiling. Those fights had always ended in makeup sex, almost like they were a new kind of foreplay. He hadn’t always won the arguments, like the one they’d had about moving out of his ex’s house and into a rented room.

To save on money, he’d wanted to stay “just a little longer” despite the fact that they’d been sleeping on an air mattress in his ex’s living room. The word “uncomfortable” didn’t begin to define that situation but it had felt safe because Riku had been able to pay bills without worrying where he would rest at night.

Theo had ultimately been the hero of that fight because he’d shown Riku how selfish he was being. His lover had managed it without making Riku feel bad, which was almost a miracle.

So, why was he so tangled up about bringing the Billings parents back into the picture? They’d apologized for calling him Theo’s Asian fetish, which was apparently the worst offense in their eyes. Shouldn’t he forgive them?

No, he thought. There’s an essential disconnect between how I view the world and how they do. We can’t resolve that.

Hands closed on his shoulders, and he realized he’d been standing still instead of cleaning. He relaxed into the familiar touch of Theo’s skilled fingers as Theo began massaging his shoulders and that spot where he carried ninety percent of his tension, which was at the base of his skull. He must have been unmoving for quite a while because Theo, partially deaf and visually impaired as well, sometimes missed things that happened around him. He’d noticed today, though.

Riku turned and Theo dropped one hand into Riku’s palm. He signed, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m borrowing trouble,” he said and signed. He caught the light playing over Theo’s hair and reached up to touch a lock that had fallen in front of Theo’s eyes. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

“Thank you.” He laughed. “I do know, but I also am aware that you’re avoiding talking about whatever’s bothering you. What’s wrong?”

Riku shook his head, remembered Theo might not be able to see that, and answered, “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

“Maybe we should go home, and we should resume this cleaning tomorrow?”

He didn’t want to go back to the rented room and face Theo’s parents. “I’d better finish up here or it’s going to drag on all summer.”

“By yourself?”

“You can go back if you want,” Riku offered.

“Why don’t I stay with you, keep you out of your head?”

Riku hugged him, feeling the warmth of Theo’s skin on his forehead as he leaned against him. “I love you. Thank you for understanding how much I need you to be with me right now.”

Theo kissed him, angling his head so their noses didn’t bump. “I love you.” He smacked Riku’s hip lightly. “Now. Let’s get cleaning. I don’t just love you.” He signed into Riku’s hand. “I crave your touch.”

“And my mouth, I hope,” Riku signed back. “I’ve wanted to taste you for days.”

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

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

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

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[AUDIO PROMOTION] The Madman and His Broken Princess by Cora Reilly

2026-02-27T09:00:00.013-05:00

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🎙𝙉𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙇𝙪𝙘𝙮 𝙍𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 & 𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝘿𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙣

🎙𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝘽𝙮 𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙣 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙉𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙞𝙤𝙨

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Nestore Romano was achingly beautiful. A cruel, dark prince who only smiled when he could break his broken princess. His birthright destined him to rule over his kingdom. His indisputable fate until my father betrayed his oath and locked him in a cage to torture and humiliate. It was the end of Nestore. It was his rebirth too. I witnessed both.

He hated my last name for everything my father had done to him and his family. But me…

…he hated me for the single act of running away.

Amelia was the light in my eternal darkness.

Until she wasn’t.

Until she betrayed me like every other Lamorgese. I wouldn’t let her escape. I couldn’t, not when she was the only anchor to something I’d lost. My last salvation.

She would become my wife—the unwilling princess at my side.

I never wanted to make her pay for the scars her father had left.

But I would make her pay for breaking my heart.

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Cora Reilly is the author of the Born in Blood Mafia Series, The Camorra Chronicles and many other books, most of them featuring dangerously sexy bad boys. Before she found her passion in romance books, she was a traditionally published author of young adult literature.

Cora lives in Germany with a cute but crazy Bearded Collie, as well as the cute but crazy man at her side. When she doesn't spend her days dreaming up sexy books, she plans her next travel adventure or cooks too spicy dishes from all over the world.

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{Teaser} Bedtime Stories Romance Box Set

2026-02-25T08:30:00.006-05:00

Bedtime Stories (#1)

Romance Box Set -- brought to you by Bedtime Stories Publishing

Date Published: February 27, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

This story’s about how Sam saved Troll’s Blog by coming up with one of the coolest ideas ever. Bedtime Stories Publishing…

Shelby Morgen -- Troll’s Blog: Perfect skin, dusted a light powder blue. Bright burgundy Mohawk. 6’4”. Dark blue uniform. Big shiny gun. Yeah. I’m the Troll under the bridge. But if you’re reading my blog, you know that. That’s why I call it Troll’s Blog. Duh. But I digress. This story isn’t about me. Not exactly. It’s about my blog. And Sam. And another one of Sam’s great ideas. You’re gonna love it. Really.

Lena Austin -- Ugly Duckling: Jean-Paul, incubus editor for Bedtime Stories Press has been assigned a new author. Dominick may be a fantastic author, but when he gets aroused, the situation gets ugly. Literally. Jean-Paul is sure he can handle Dom. Maybe…

Anne Kane -- Pixie’s Playmates: “While the story had an engaging quality, I feel that the flavor of the sex was too vanilla for Bedtime Stories Press.” When Bedtime Stories Press review coordinator Pixie calls the reviewer into the office she finds out “B.J. Smith” is really two very drool-worthy males who want to demonstrate their toys. What’s a pixie to do?

Marteeka Karland -- Shut Up! As official kitty of the Bar and Grille for the Bedtime Stories readers and authors, Callie has the last say in everything she does and with everyone in her vicinity. Then Troll makes a proclamation that could very well get someone killed. Anyone who can get the last word in on Callie gets to have his way with her in bed. It’s a proposition Eli can’t refuse. Callie’s about to get all the loving from Eli she can stand. If she can just shut up.

Note: Bedtime Stories in no way represents any actual publishing company. Any resemblance to the staff and authors of Changeling Press is purely coincidental.

That’s our story and we’re sticking to it.

Excerpt from Troll's Blog

I was so wrapped up watching the '50s vintage Harley coming toward me I didn't even notice he wasn't registering on my screen. As in 1950s. Well over a hundred years old, and still on the road. That machine was really flying. Well, no. Not really flying. That's an old euphemism for moving. Speeding.

God knows what he'd put in the tank. Probably running on moonshine. Nothing legal'd have it cranking like that. The sound of that motor purring down the road toward me had my blood heating up. I closed my eyes for a moment, ready to breathe in the scent of ancient exhaust.

Then it hit me. Sigh. No. Not literally hit me. My brain engaged -- enough to see the century-old motorcycle was not registering on my vid panel. Nothing. Flying completely under the radar. And he wasn't slowing down. In fact, the closer he got, the farther he laid himself out along that tank. Rider and cycle shot past me in one long black blur that had my mouth watering -- and my hand on my gun. He might be sexy as hell, all black leather stretched out long and lean over that tank, but nobody -- and I mean nobody -- runs the gate on my watch.

Alarms and sirens went off, and lights flashed down the next mile of bi-way, warning the felon that he'd best slow down and pull over before the Toll Collector caught up with him.

Not that he slowed in the least. In fact, I'd have bet a month's salary he gunned it about then.

Fine. If that's the way he wanted to play it, the chase was on.

Damn, but that view looked even better from behind.

I shook my head as I jumped into my patrol pod, a three-wheeled Flitter that was airborne at a safe hover of a half-meter or so by the time I got my Mohawk crammed into the cockpit and the door slammed shut. What the fuck was he thinking, trying to outrun a Toll Collector?

The bridge itself is a long, straight shot of highway with equally long approaches, spanning just under two kilometers of unquiet waters. This isn't just any bridge they've entrusted to me. No. It's the Golden Gate, linking Old San Francisco to Marin Co., California. One of the longest bridges in the world. One of the few still in constant operation. Sure, a lot of people use Flitters these days, rather than ground vehicles, but Flitters aren't exactly safe hovering over rough water, and the bay's never calm. So unless you've got a full pilot's license, and something jet propelled, if you're going south, you've got to pass over my bridge.

And pay my toll. Which this asshole had elected not to do.

I'm not exactly an inexperienced pilot. I know my bridge like she was my baby. She's 2.7 kilometers, from abutment to abutment, laid out straight and true as an arrow shot from a master's bow. We crossed her in just under one minute, and if I hadn't been so pissed off, I'd have been scared shitless.

Yeah, even a Troll can experience fear. Doesn't happen often, I'll admit, but chasing that leather-clad backside across that bridge through sheering winds high above some of the roughest, coldest water this side of hell at 200 KPH is more of a thrill than even a Troll is used to.

I could tell, too, from the way he hugged that tank, that he was really getting off on the chase. Every time the wind hit him he'd roll his shoulders, leaning back into it like he was riding a lover. He glanced back at me once, facemask lifted enough for me to see him grin. I'd bet my pension he had a boner the size of his ego. When I caught this idiot of a Human he was going to get a piece of a little more than my mind. I might even resort to police brutality -- before I friggin' killed him.

No Human scares a Troll and gets away with it.

About the Authors

Anne Kane: Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue dog whose breed defies description and an Aussie Shepherd who’s too smart for her own good. Anne likes to write spicy stories with sassy heroines and protective, sexy male heroes who love those women. Her stories all have one thing in common: a happily ever after ending.

Lena Austin: Someone cursed Lena Austin with "may you have a life so full you'll have many tales to tell your grandchildren." Lena's a "fallen" society wench with a checkered past. She's been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba -- she's got a lifetime of "Research material!"

Marteeka Karland: International bestselling author Marteeka Karland leads a double life as an action romance writer 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 heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending.

Shelby Morgen: Shelby Morgen loves writing offbeat tales that defy as many rules as possible.

She likes chocolate with her peanut butter, suspense with her romance, and kink with her sex, and she’s always had a hard time keeping murder, motorcycles, science fiction, fantasy and paranormal from mixing with her kink.

Find Anne on Facebook

Find Marteeka on Facebook

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

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

Pre-Order Today

Staying for La Lluvia, Book One in the Ritmo y Pasión Series by Author Shelly Cruz

2026-02-24T09:00:00.001-05:00

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𝙎𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩. 𝙃𝙚’𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩….

Rocío Fontana has spent her career winning in court, but her personal life just hit rock bottom. Newly divorced and jaded, the brilliant divorce lawyer watched her marriage go down in flames, and now she’s ready to use that heat to reawaken her dormant desires. Determined to revive the vibrant, sexual woman buried under years of betrayal, she seeks out a spark to remind her what it feels like to be wanted. What was supposed to be a single, no-strings-attached night in Miami becomes a sensory awakening she never saw coming.

Reggaeton superstar, Xavier Delgado, is a man on the mend. After a downward spiral of addiction nearly cost him his throne, he’s finally clean, back in the studio, and planning his comeback tour. But he hasn't been able to find his rhythm since the night he met a woman who walked out of his bed and vanished into the Miami night. He thought he was done with the cravings but finds himself addicted to the memory of the one woman who didn't want his fame, just his fire.

When their worlds collide, Rocío realizes her “rebound” is a global icon ten years her junior. At forty-one, she’s learning to trust herself again, but can she trust a man who lives in a world of screaming fans and constant temptation? One night changed everything. Will their connection be a fleeting rhythm or a song that’s meant to last forever?

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Shelly Cruz is a Latina lawyer living the sunny South Florida life with her husband and their adorable rescue pup Dalia. She survives on cafecito, yerba mate, and a whole lot of lipstick. Author of Nine Years Gone and Amor in the 305, Shelly loves exploring all things love and relationships by weaving tales of Latin flavor and undeniable heat into stories that captivate and ignite. When she’s not immersed in her fictional worlds or navigating legal briefs, you’ll probably catch her speaking Spanglish, reading, traveling, or cruising on the back of her husband’s Harley.

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{Teaser} Enemies with Benefits by Wanda Violet O.

2026-02-23T08:30:00.005-05:00

Sanctum Black (#1)

A Razor’s Edge Enemies to Lovers BDSM Erotica Short

BDSM Erotica

Date Published: February 27, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

Power made them enemies. Desire makes them reckless. One surrender changes everything.

Mira: Elias Hartmann is a billionaire power player and my biggest professional obstacle. Six months of brutal negotiations turned into six months of tension I refuse to name. Every meeting is a battle. Every look feels like a challenge I shouldn’t want to accept. Then I receive an invitation to Sanctum Black. A private sex club where power, and desire collide. When Elias appears, I should leave. Instead, I let him show me exactly how thin the line is between control and surrender. Outside, we’re enemies fighting for the upper hand. Inside, I give him everything I pretend I don’t crave.

Elias: Mira Calder doesn’t bend. She dismantles. Brilliant, relentless, and impossible to ignore. I wanted her from the first meeting. Not romance. Not dates. I wanted to break her composure and earn her surrender. Sanctum Black gives us rules, boundaries, and privacy with no consequences. Just heat, power, and obsession in a safe, anonymous environment. She’s my equal in the boardroom. In the dark, she’s mine to challenge and claim. Enemies to lovers. High-stakes power play. One mistake neither of us can afford to walk away from untouched.

Excerpt

Mira

The moment I crossed the threshold of my apartment, I kicked off my heels, not caring where they landed. My feet throbbed with the special kind of pain reserved for women who spent twelve hours in Italian leather torture devices, all for the sake of standing eye-to-eye with men who confused height with authority. The negotiation with Elias Hartmann had dragged on until sunset, both of us refusing to yield on key points until our respective teams were practically falling asleep at the table. I’d won this round, but victory felt hollow when measured against the ache behind my eyes.

“Fuck it,” I muttered to no one, dropping my briefcase on the entryway bench. My apartment greeted me with familiar silence, the kind I usually found comforting after days filled with strategic verbal combat. Tonight, though, it felt like just another empty space.

I shrugged off my blazer and hung it with more care than I’d shown my shoes. Six hundred dollars of tailored wool deserved better, even if I couldn’t muster the energy to pick up my heels, which were now scattered across my polished hardwood floor. My blouse came next, the top three buttons already undone during the elevator ride up. Freedom, in small increments.

The wine rack in my kitchen called to me like a beacon. I selected a Cabernet I’d been saving, though I couldn’t remember why. Some mythical special occasion that never materialized. The cork came free with a satisfying pop that echoed in my silent kitchen.

I didn’t bother with a glass at first, taking a generous swig straight from the bottle. Only after that initial hit did I pour properly, the dark liquid swirling as I carried it to my living room. The tension in my neck had transformed into something solid, a concrete weight pressing down on my spine. I rolled my head, feeling vertebrae pop in protest.

Elias fucking Hartmann. The man was infuriating. Brilliant, undoubtedly, but maddening in a way that made me want to either slap him or…

I cut that thought off, unwilling to follow where it led. Six months of negotiations over this acquisition, and the progress we’d made could be measured in millimeters. Every concession was a battle, every clause scrutinized with microscopic closeness.

I raised my wine glass to take a healthy pull. I couldn’t deny the grudging respect I’d developed for my opponent. He had a mind like a steel trap and eyes that missed nothing. Including, I suspected, the way my breath sometimes caught when he leaned too close across the conference table.

I massaged my temples, pressing hard enough to make little starbursts appear behind my closed eyelids. Professional attraction was a complication I didn’t need. Especially not with someone whose corporate ambitions directly opposed my client’s interests.

Something caught my eye as I passed entryway table. A black envelope, sleek and heavy, with a minimalist gold emblem stamped in the corner. I froze, wine glass halfway to my lips. It definitely hadn’t been there this morning.

Setting down my glass, I approached the envelope cautiously, as though it might bite. My building had excellent security, a key consideration when I’d purchased the apartment. Someone placing this here meant either my security had been compromised, or…

I picked it up, feeling the substantial weight of the cardstock. Expensive. The gold emblem caught the light, an ornate “SB” intertwined in a design that managed to suggest both elegance and something darker. No postage, no address. Just my name in metallic ink that gleamed under my fingertips.

I slid my finger under the flap, breaking the wax seal that I hadn’t initially noticed. Inside was a single card of the same heavyweight black stock, text printed in the same gold ink.

To: Ms. Mira Calder
You are cordially invited to Sanctum Black, where discretion meets pleasure without judgment. Your reputation for excellence has been noted by our selection committee. Should you choose to accept, present this invitation at 1158 Blackwood Avenue at 10 PM this evening.
Boundaries respected. Desires fulfilled.
Sanctum Black
Your privacy is our sacred covenant
HW George
Concierge

I turned the card over, looking for more information, but found only the same emblem from the envelope. Sanctum Black. I’d heard whispers about it in certain circles. Sanctum Black was an exclusive club where the elite could shed their public personas. Not exactly a sex club, but definitely not a simple social club either. The kind of place where people went when they wanted experiences they couldn’t get elsewhere, with the absolute certainty that what happened there would never leave its walls.

My analytical mind immediately began dissecting how my name had reached their “selection committee.” Who had recommended me? What did they know about me that made them think I’d be interested? And more importantly, who else might I encounter there?

About the Author

Welcome to Wanda Violet O.'s world of bedtime fantasy, where you'll find a variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play... she's got it all. Come take a look for yourself!

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

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{Excerpt Reveal} Taylor's Father by Penelope Ward

2026-02-20T12:52:00.001-05:00

Title: Taylor's Father

Author: Penelope Ward

Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance

Tropes: Age Gap (17 Years), Best Guy Friend's Father

Single Dad, Forbidden, Second Chance

Protective Hero, Sassy Heroine

Release Date: February 22, 2026

BLURB

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a new, STANDALONE contemporary romance…

When my best friend Taylor gifted me a vacation at a resort owned by his grandparents, the last thing I expected was to bond with a man seventeen years older.

Tate was also vacationing alone.

He’d come to Midnight Key to clear his head and reevaluate his life.

I’d come to get over my high school sweetheart who’d dumped me.

I’d spotted the brawny, tattooed Adonis in the lobby on the first day and thought he had to be someone’s hot dad.

But then we matched on an app that paired single men and women by proximity.

The problem was? At nineteen—almost twenty—I’d lied and said I was twenty-nine.

Tate outed me on our first date, and I fessed up to my real age.

But we continued to run into each other.

And eventually we found our connection was too magnetic to deny.

While we agreed to only use first names and to part ways at the end of the trip, I’d really fallen for Tate.

I never forgot him and knew he was the one who got away.

Remember that guy friend who gifted me the trip?

Well, four years later, Taylor got married.

He’d been estranged from his dad for years, though recently they’d reconnected.

What I didn’t know was that the man I’d had that torrid affair with at the resort would be standing next to Taylor in the receiving line.

My dream man Tate? Was Taylor’s father.

GOODREADS

BOOKBUB

PRE-ORDER LINKS

$3.99 for a limited time!

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Will be FREE to read in Kindle Unlimited

AUDIOBOOK

SPECIAL EDITION PAPERBACK

The current paperback pre-order is for the special-edition cover only. A model-cover paperback will be live on release day.

WHAT YOU CAN EXPECT

17-YEAR AGE GAP

BEST GUY FRIEND'S FATHER

SINGLE DAD

FORBIDDEN

SECOND CHANCE

PROTECTIVE HERO

SASSY HEROINE

EXCERPT

By Penelope Ward

The next morning, I woke up happier than I’d been in a long time.

The prospect of seeing Tate again filled me with anticipation. It was a wonder I’d gotten any sleep.

His words from last night still replayed in my head over and over.

“A responsible person wouldn’t be struggling with whether to protect you or eat you.”

God, I hoped he ultimately chose the latter.

We hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers, so I was pleased to see a message come through the dating app from him.

Tate: I’m heading down to breakfast in a few. Care to join me?

Blair: Only if you order me four different kinds of beverages to choose from. BTW, it’s never too early for an espresso martini.

Tate: You’re about two years too early.

I laughed as I typed.

Blair: Very funny.

Tate: See you in a few?

Blair: Maybe…

Tate: Brat.

Blair: You like that about me.

Tate: You’re not wrong.

My mouth hurt from smiling.

When I got downstairs, I saw Tate before he saw me. He sat at a table with a huge pile of food spread before him. How did this man look even more hot today? He wore his baseball hat backward, which was absolutely my weakness. The way pieces of his hair poked out the sides? Scrumptious. Every look he’d rocked was sexier than the last.

I walked over to where he was sitting. “Hey, you.”

He gave me a once-over, and his eyes filled with something that seemed a hell of a lot like desire as he appraised the floral sundress I wore, the top of which was held up by two skimpy strings. My current look wasn’t as dramatic as last night’s, though. Today I had gone for fresh-faced and sassy.

“Well, hello.” He smiled. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby…”

“No comment.”

“You’d better not.” I took the seat across from him. “How did you sleep?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in a while, actually.”

“Must have been the company you kept the night before.”

“I did have an amazing time with you last night.” Tate smiled.

He seemed genuine, and I felt myself blush. “Likewise.” I gestured to the food. “Hungry much?”

There were eggs, bacon, a huge stack of pancakes, home fries, and fruit.

“All of this is for both of us. Have you seen that buffet line? I waited for like twenty minutes. Didn’t want you to have to do the same.”

“Well, I guess I win for being fashionably late. Thank you.” I grinned. “Between the variety of drinks the first time we met and this private buffet, I’m starting to think this is your thing—hoarding food.”

He gestured to the plates. “Eat up.”

How I wish I could.

For some reason, I wasn’t all that hungry—at least for food. But it was amusing to watch this big, strong man devour his breakfast.

“What are your plans today?” I asked as he munched.

“Depends on whether a certain girl wants to hang out with me.”

“I wasn’t gonna be presumptuous. You’re the one who’s been resistant.”

“Only to certain things and for your own good,” he clarified. “I’m not resistant to your company in the least. I quite like it.”

“So what’s another safe activity we can do so you don’t have to feel like a creeper?”

Tate stopped chewing for a moment. “I was thinking maybe we could go kayaking, if you’re up for it.”

My mouth curved into a smile. “I would love that, actually.”

In truth, I could take or leave kayaking. But any activity where I’d be in close proximity to Tate today was fine by me.

“Cool. I already booked it.”

“Now you’re the one being presumptuous.”

“Maybe, yeah.” He winked before stuffing a big piece of pancake into his mouth.

Never thought I could be jealous of a pancake, but here we were.

I reached my fork across the table and began eating off his plate. As I leaned forward, I accidentally rested my foot on top of his at one point. To my surprise, he didn’t move it away. The contact sent a rush of desire through me.

I popped a piece of pineapple into my mouth. “Do anything interesting when you got back to your room last night?”

“Not particularly.” He chewed.

“After what you said about contemplating eating me, I think you might be lying.”

He stopped mid-bite and shook his head. “Even if I did do what you’re implying, I wouldn’t admit it.”

“I’m pretty sure you just did.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your face is red. You’re fidgeting. The signs are all there.”

I strategically selected a banana, holding it firmly in my hand as I slowly peeled it and took a big bite. Tate’s eyes remained fixed on me the entire time. “It was the only way I could sleep,” I added.

He nearly choked on his coffee.

“What you said riled me up,” I told him.

“Some things can remain private.” He glared. “You know?”

“So, you don’t want to know about my soothing Epsom salt foot soak?”

Tate reached across the table, grabbed my banana, and took a frustrated bite.

AUTHOR BIO

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.

With millions of books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over forty books. Her novels have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.

AUTHOR LINKS

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OTHER BOOKS BY PENELOPE WARD

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[RELEASE PROMOTION] Hushed Harmony by Kaylene Winter

2026-02-09T09:00:00.011-05:00

♦ ♦ ♦

𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗿𝘂𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁.

I spend my life chasing sound. Grit, feedback, the moment a crowd holds its breath.

Fireball is the only thing I’ve built without it turning on me. Everything else stays locked tight.

Then Linus O’Donnell comes back.

My first real love.

The one man who knows exactly how I break.

The one I never stopped wanting.

Avonna doesn’t need an entrance.

She coaxes me past my defenses into truth.

Raw. Unfiltered. Impossible to ignore.

What starts as music turns carnal fast.

Late nights. Sweat-soaked rehearsals. Heat carrying into every chord.

Desire doesn’t divide. It multiplies.

I want them both.

Bodies. Loyalty. A future. The way we fit once the world goes quiet.

The problem?

It never does.

I lie. I stall. I pretend control is possible.

Some harmonies refuse to stay hushed.

𝙃𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙚-𝙝𝙤𝙩, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙮𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙠 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.

♦ ♦ ♦

Kaylene Winter is a best-selling author of steamy, contemporary romance.

Each character-driven novel is filled with snappy dialogue, pop-culture references and enough steam to make you fan yourself. Kaylene weaves authenticity, emotion and angst into a turbulent rollercoaster ride of love, passion and soul-searing romance always ending with a delicious HEA.

Kaylene lives in Seattle with her amazing Irish husband and her Pomsky, Phalen. She loves creating art of all kinds.

♦ ♦ ♦

[RELEASE PROMOTION] Shattered to Pieces by Shevaun DeLucia

2026-01-29T10:00:00.014-05:00

♦ ♦ ♦

Running scared is what Skylar Kramer had been doing her whole entire life and now she’s running to protect her son from Antonio Castro – the man who fooled her into a sense of security and safety only to become her tormentor and now his prey.

Skylar trusted in the wrong man which almost cost her life, and now after making a vow to herself to never trust another soul, she refuses to make that mistake again. Love and friendships are not in the cards for her any longer – then he comes along, slowly ripping down her walls changing everything.

Neal Caruso is career oriented, a natural protector, and a cop. It’s his job to witness the wicked and after answering a call one night years ago, he hasn’t been able to get her off his mind. Skylar has haunted his dreams for years but out of pure luck they cross paths again and this time Neal refuses to let her walk out of his life. He plans to do whatever it takes to protect them, no matter what the cost.

♦ ♦ ♦

Shevaun DeLucia lives in upstate New York with her husband, and two boys while also enjoying spending time with her two grown children who have already left the nest. As a stay-at-home mom while her children were young, she fell in love with reading. She indulged in the small moments that took her away from the reality of her loud, overly rambunctious household, bringing her into a world of fantasy. When reading wasn’t enough to satisfy her, she turned to writing, determined to create the perfect ending of her own.

♦ ♦ ♦

[RELEASE PROMOTION] Poisoned Empire & Redeeming Vow by Jo McCall

2026-01-26T10:00:00.005-05:00

♦ ♦ ♦

𝗣𝗼𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗘𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 (𝗕𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗧𝘄𝗼):

They thought I was weak.

A pawn in their twisted game.

Insignificant. Disposable.

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴.

𝗥𝗲𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗩𝗼𝘄 (𝗕𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲):

I am no one’s pawn.

I’ve come back stronger. Fiercer.

A warrior. A queen.

𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲…

𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀.

♦ ♦ ♦

Jo McCall writes dark, contemporary and paranormal romance with a mafia focus.

A paramedic for over ten years, Jo traded in her stethoscope for paper and pen after an injury left her unable to finish out her career.

She is an avid reader of anything dark and steamy and when she isn’t writing, you can find her making a rather large dent in her TBR.

She is a lover of strong but vulnerable heroines who find their own and hot, sexy alpha males who might be a tad bit over-possessive. Jo loves to lose herself in her characters and the flaws and darkness that surround them.

There is no shame found here, and she often gets lost when writing out those erotic, steamy scenes that make women’s (and men’s) fantasies come true.

“There is nothing like getting lost in something you know is wrong, but still can’t resist.”

Jo currently resides in the beautiful state of Washington with her two dogs.

♦ ♦ ♦

{Release Promotion} Merciless Betrayal by Anise Storm

2026-01-13T10:00:00.001-05:00

♦ ♦ ♦

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐧

I’d always known I’d never be part of his world, but I tried anyway.

And what should’ve been the happiest time of my life turned into Hell.

Back then, I didn’t know the true lengths a Brannington would go.

It’s why I’d fled and never looked back. Until now. Until I see him again.

I’d once thought that we were soulmates, but it had all been a delusion.

And now, it’s more than my heart I must protect. I must protect our child.

Cillian has changed from the boy I’d once known. He’s more dangerous.

And he’s out for more than blood. He wants to break me - heart and soul.

Only, they’re no longer mine to give. They’ve always been only his.

𝐂𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

She was considered beneath me by my family. I’d never given a damn.

Despite a foolish and desperate move, my grandfather enacted an evil plan.

I’d tried protecting Reagan, but I’d ultimately failed her, and I’d failed us.

Until ten years later when I come face to face with a ghost from my past.

She might be using a different name, but I would know her anywhere.

Her betrayal reignites a spark in a heart that I’d thought died alongside her.

And now love doesn’t fill me. Anger and retribution does instead.

I want to make her pay for her betrayal, but I’m not faultless in her eyes.

In the world of an eye for an eye, this battle might be a heart for a heart.

♦ ♦ ♦

Anise Storm is a USA Today Bestselling author of Contemporary and Dark Romance. A Southern transplant, Anise is married with children. She has a love of football, shoes, and tall, dark heroes. When not spending time with family or traveling, she can be found either curled up with a good book or writing.

♦ ♦ ♦

{Blitz} By Dawn: The 13th House by Martha Wickham

2026-01-07T08:00:00.001-05:00

Horror/paranormal

Date Published: 11-22-2025

Nine Tales. Nine Secrets. All Before Dawn.

In the shadow of Bloomstone Manor, a dilapidated estate hauntingly known as "Lily Lane", the veil between the living and the dead is impossibly thin. This collection of nine paranormal mystery stories explores inheritances, dark family legacies, and spectral demands, all bound by the Manor's enduring, dark influence.

This Halloween, meet the three students who dare to knock on the door of "The 13th House"—a black, unnumbered prison that holds the sinister secrets of the past. Their trick-or-treating leads them to a terrifying collection of artifacts: a bent spoon, a rusted key, and a doll's eye. Every artifact is a clue left by a child who vanished, whispering pleas for help from beyond the grave. The teens must solve the mystery and free the spirits before the night's magic fades, or they might become the next secret the old house keeps.

Every house has a debt. Every ghost has a tether. Uncover the restless spirits and broken promises that demand attention and resolution. When the clock strikes dawn, the secrets settle back into the dust and the lilies—and it may be too late.

Excerpt

Night of the Spirits

Anthony pushed through the thick brush that had swallowed the old path. His friends told him the house was hidden somewhere ahead, rumored to be haunted. When he finally saw it, the place looked half-demolished, with climbing walls that had paint curling and peeling. Yet every window was perfectly intact.

He opened the front door. Stale, cold air rushed out, thick with dust. His footsteps echoed through the empty living room.As he moved down the hallway, the front door suddenly slammed. He spun around and ran back, and in that moment, he was sure he heard a whisper: Sam.The door wouldn’t budge. He was trapped. He tried the windows too none of them opened.

Again, the whisper came, louder this time. Sam.

“Who’s Sam? I’m not Sam!” he shouted.

A hiss answered him, followed by footsteps upstairs. Heart pounding, he raced up the stairs. At the top, he stopped and listened. The footsteps were clear, moving steadily into an empty room. He followed them.

Moonlight spilt across the floor through a bare window. The invisible footsteps crossed the room and came to a stop at the closet. Inside, there was only a small box containing a single book. The spirits wanted him to find it; maybe it would explain everything.

He lifted the book. It was an old, battered ledger. Inside, a name was written: Samuel. He began to read.I made a promise to the spirits trapped here. One of them is buried downstairs. I swore I would help free them with my rituals. I study the occult, and they own a golden statue worth a fortune. It must be used in the ritual. If I hide it now, I can return for it later. No one alive will see me take it.

Anthony reached deeper into the box and pulled out a loose page, a torn sheet from another book. It carried a chant and the instructions for a ritual to free spirits.A freezing gust swept through the room. Then a booming voice declared:“Complete the ritual by dawn, or be trapped here forever!”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked the spirit.

Once again, he heard footsteps descending the stairs and followed them. Near the kitchen, the basement door creaked open. He cautiously stepped down the dark basement steps and saw the cloud-like spirit hovering over a crypt in the floor, where it looked like a ritual had been started over someone’s grave. Candles and matches were scattered nearby.

About the Author

Martha Wickham has a knack for finding the ghosts hidden in the dust. A lifelong student of the arcane and the artistic, Martha has an Associate's Degree and professional writing credentials, but she honed her skills in the thrilling shadows of screenwriting and horror. Martha lives for the secrets that only come out "By Dawn". You can discover more of her work, including her newest audiobooks, at your favorite retailer.

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{Teaser Tuesday} ACE by Harley Wylde

2026-01-06T11:00:00.001-05:00

(Savage Raptors MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: January 9, 2026

He’s the calm before the storm. She’s the chaos that makes him feel alive.

Marci: Running only works for so long when the devil hunting me wears a badge. I’ve spent a year hiding behind fake names and cheap motel rooms, praying I could disappear. Bryson Corners was supposed to be a quiet stop before I ran again.

Then I walk into The Broken Spoke and meet Ace. He looks at me and I feel safe… and I believe him. I shouldn’t. Attachment gets people killed. But every time he touches me, every time he stands between me and the world, I want to stay instead of run.

Ace: I’ve learned the hard way that peace never lasts. Managing the bar keeps me steady -- until Marci walks in, scared and stubborn and pretending she doesn’t need anyone. She’s mine before I can stop it.

She’s running from something brutal, and whoever wants her will have to go through me -- and through the Savage Raptors MC. I’ve fought for my brothers, my patch, my life… but for her?

I’ll burn the world down.

An emotional age-gap MC romance full of danger, loyalty, and the kind of love that takes root and refuses to let go.

EXCERPT

Marci

The Honda’s engine ticked while heat faded, each sharp sound far too loud in the afternoon quiet. I sat behind the wheel, hands locked around the steering wheel, knuckles white, and counted my breaths the way I’d trained myself to do whenever panic climbed my throat. One. Two. Three. The parking lot stretched empty before me except for a single pickup truck near the building’s entrance, and I’d already checked every mirror twice to make sure no one had followed me here.

The Broken Spoke hunched low under the Oklahoma sky, weathered boards faded from sun and storms, neon sign quiet during daylight hours. The whole place looked tired and rough around the edges, the kind of bar where broken people carried wounds behind their eyes, where forgetting felt easier than healing.

I peeled my fingers from the steering wheel, joints stiff from the grip. Shaking returned, small at first, then stronger once my focus locked on the tremor. Two years of this -- two years since I’d walked away from everything I knew, carrying only a backpack and clothes from a life better left behind. I learned to hide the tremor. Learned to keep my hands busy, to move like I belonged anywhere, even on days when my balance barely held.

A Help Wanted sign waited in the window, same place I saw yesterday during a slow drive through town. I had bartended, waitressed, cleaned houses, taken any job paying cash, asking no questions. Those jobs kept me fed and moving forward. My ribs remembered hunger. My heart remembered the way loss hollowed me out.

I drew a breath rough enough to scrape my throat and reached for the door handle. One step at a time. Survive first. Trust later.

I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat and checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. Blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, no makeup except a touch of lip gloss I’d worried off an hour ago. I looked tired. I looked like someone who’d been running for too long. But I also looked ordinary, forgettable, and the point settled heavy in my chest.

The door handle felt slick under my palm as I pushed the door open. Heat washed over me in an instant, thick afternoon warmth turning every breath into work. I locked the car -- muscle memory by now, even though nothing inside held any value -- and started across the parking lot.

Each step carried a quiet prayer for a place where I could disappear, earn enough to survive, and not draw attention. Ordinary helped. Forgettable kept doors from slamming in my face. I clung to both, even when my heart begged for something more.

Gravel crunched under my sneakers. I kept my gaze moving, scanning the tree line beyond the building, the road I’d just come from, the shadows under the eaves where someone could wait unseen. Old habits. Survival instincts kept me alive this long. I couldn’t let go of those instincts, no matter how hard I tried to believe safety waited here for me.

The hinges announced my entrance in a drawn-out creak, a sharp warning dragging tension through my shoulders. Inside, the bar sat dim and cool, the smell of old beer and wood polish settling over me like a memory I didn’t know I needed. My eyes took a moment to adjust, shapes forming slowly from the gloom. Tables and chairs. A long bar, bottles lined up behind the counter. A jukebox quiet in the corner, waiting for someone brave enough to wake the music.

A small part of me wanted to collapse into the comfort promised by that familiar scene. A larger part stayed on guard, ready for danger around every shadow. Hope and fear fought under my skin, and neither side won.

And a man.

He straightened from a crouch beside a stack of crates, turning toward me in an unhurried movement conveying complete awareness of his surroundings. Tall -- easily over six feet. Broad through the shoulders from real labor, not hours in a gym. Dark hair needing a cut, hazel eyes finding mine and holding my gaze through an intensity strong enough to steal a breath from my lungs.

“We’re closed.” His voice was deep, measured. It didn’t need to be raised to command attention.

“I saw the sign. The Help Wanted sign. I was hoping to talk to someone about the position.”

He studied me for a long moment, and I forced myself not to fidget under his gaze. I’d gotten good at standing still, at appearing calm even when my pulse was hammering. He set down the clipboard he’d been holding and walked closer, his movements economical, controlled.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Marci. Marci Robbins.”

“I’m Ace. I manage this place.” He leaned against the bar, arms crossing over his chest. “You have experience?”

“Yes.” I’d practiced this part, rehearsed what I’d say. “I’ve bartended before. A few different places over the years. I’m good with customers, I show up on time, and I’m a hard worker.”

“Where was your last job?”

The question I’d been waiting for. “A place in San Antonio. Small bar, nothing fancy. It closed down a few months back, and I’ve been moving around since then, picking up work where I can find it.”

His gaze hadn’t left my face. He was looking at me the way people looked when they were trying to see past the surface, searching for whatever you were hiding. I had seen the same look before -- from cops pulling me over for a busted taillight, from landlords asking for references I could never provide, from strangers sensing something off and failing to name the source.

“You got any references?” he asked.

“No.” I met his gaze directly. “The owner of my last place died, and I lost touch with the other employees after it closed. But I can prove I know what I’m doing if you give me a chance.”

“Why The Broken Spoke?”

“I need work.” Simple. Honest. “I’m new to the area and this was the first place I saw hiring. I’m not picky about where I work as long as it’s steady.”

He nodded slowly, leaving me unsure whether anything positive would come from the moment. My hands wanted to shake again, so I shoved them into my pockets. The bar felt too quiet around us, just the hum of coolers and the distant sound of traffic from the road. I’d already mapped the exits -- front door, back door through what I assumed was the kitchen, emergency exit near the restrooms. Automatic assessment, the kind I did everywhere now.

“Family in the area?”

“No.” The word landed sharper than I wanted. I tried to soften the moment through a shrug. “Just me.”

Something shifted in his expression, though I couldn’t read the meaning. He pushed off the bar and stepped behind the counter, reaching for a glass. He filled the glass from the tap and set the water in front of me.

“Drink,” he said.

I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until the glass was in my hand. I drank half before I could stop myself, the cool water cutting through the dryness in my throat. When I lifted my gaze, he still watched me, and a new intensity in his eyes replaced whatever I’d seen before. Not quite sympathy. Not quite suspicion. Something in between.

“The work’s hard. Long hours, late nights. We get a rough crowd sometimes -- bikers, locals, people passing through. You have to be able to handle yourself.”

“I can handle myself.”

“You sure about that?” The question wasn’t challenging, exactly. More like he was genuinely asking, trying to gauge whether I understood what I was signing up for.

“I’m sure.”

He studied me for another moment, then nodded. “All right. I’ll give you a trial shift. Tonight. Be here by six. I’ll show you the ropes and see how you do. If it works out, the job’s yours.”

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

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

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{Blitz} The Weight of Dreams

2025-12-06T10:00:00.001-05:00

An Ancient Saga of Myth and Magic

Magical Realism / Fantasy

Date Published: October 27, 2025

Publisher: MindStir Media

In a time lost to memory, Etana is born with the Sight and a rare gift whispered down through her bloodline: she can speak with elephants. When her father promises her in marriage to an older man, Etana chooses the unthinkable--she flees. Escaping the ritual that broke her sister, she slips into the wilderness under the watchful eyes of the Beastgod.

Alone but guided by ancestral spirits and a bond with a mysterious elephant, Etana journeys into the realm of myth. A powerful ruler summons her to tame a ferocious elephant meant for war. But to claim her future, she must master more than beasts--she must face enemies, survive betrayal, and confront a court that thrives on secrets and blood.

As kingdoms clash and gods murmur in dreams, Etana rises from fugitive to warrioress, from outcast to commander. In a world where loyalty is eternal and power demands sacrifice, who will she become when everything she loves is threatened?

Told through the rhythms of oral tradition and infused with magic, myth, and cultural memory, The Weight of Dreams is a luminous tale of spiritual resilience, feminine power, and the living bond between human and nature.

For readers of magical realism and literary historical fiction who believe the past still speaks--and sometimes, it sings.

About the Author

Nicole writes tales of magical realism while splitting her time between Texas and the rural Midwest observing various species of wildlife and dodging alien cows. An annoying cat (with the highly original name of Kitty) and a four-pound Yorkie (named GiGi) keep her company. Nicole is the author of The Art of Living, a romance mystery series written under the pen name Coline Oseille.

To find her latest releases and upcoming novels, visit www.NicoleSorrell.com.

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[RELEASE PROMOTION] The Madman and His Broken Princess by Author Cora Reilly

2025-12-05T10:00:00.018-05:00

♦♦♦

He hated my last name for everything my father had done to him and his family. But me…

…he hated me for the single act of running away.

Amelia was the light in my eternal darkness.

Until she wasn’t.

Until she betrayed me like every other Lamorgese. I wouldn’t let her escape. I couldn’t, not when she was the only anchor to something I’d lost. My last salvation.

She would become my wife—the unwilling princess at my side.

I never wanted to make her pay for the scars her father had left.

But I would make her pay for breaking my heart.

♦♦♦

♦ ♦ ♦

{Blitz} Accused Again by Michael J. Kundu

2025-12-04T10:00:00.003-05:00

The Michael Fletcher Series, Book 2

Mystery / Thriller

Date Published: December 11, 2024

Publisher: MindStir Media

The Michael Fletcher Series: A Riveting Legal Thriller Saga

Book 2: Accused Again - Freedom Was Just the Beginning

Michael Fletcher thought his nightmare was over. After spending decades behind bars for a crime he didn't commit, he was finally free. But just as he begins to rebuild his life, the unthinkable happens-he's accused of murder again.

With the justice system poised to condemn him once more, Michael finds himself at the center of a gripping courtroom battle. As he fights to clear his name, an unexpected ally from his past emerges, offering to help him untangle a sinister web of lies and corruption. This time, the stakes are higher than ever-will Michael prove his innocence, or will he be lost to the system once again?

From award-winning author Michael J. Kundu, The Michael Fletcher Series is a gripping psychological and legal thriller saga exploring the unyielding quest for truth, justice, and redemption.

Perfect for fans of John Grisham, Scott Turow, and Michael Connelly.

High-stakes legal drama
Powerful themes of injustice, resilience, and redemption
A thought-provoking journey through the flaws of the justice system

Start the series today and join Michael Fletcher in his fight for truth!

About the Author

Michael J. Kundu was born in London, Great Britain, in 1969 to an Indian father and a German mother. He has lived in various places in Europe. His love for reading has prompted him to write this book giving this crime novel more than an edge of mystery and suspense, but also a contemporary perspective on life.

He has a great passion for learning languages and travelling across the globe. He enjoys spending time with his family and lives in Luxembourg with his Italian wife and two teenage children.

My multinational background, coupled with my marriage to someone of a different nationality, has endowed me with a wealth of diverse experiences. Having traversed the globe, speaking multiple languages and immersing myself in various cultures, the profound value of each individual has become a cornerstone of my worldview. These multicultural encounters have not only fostered a deep appreciation for the uniqueness of every person but have also instilled in me a commitment to promoting mutual respect, free from the shackles of prejudice related to color or religion. In composing my book, these experiences have permeated not only this narrative …but also the forthcoming sequel.

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{Teaser} Holiday Fatigue by Emily Carrington

2025-12-03T10:00:00.006-05:00

Gay Christmas Romance, Medical, Interracial

Date Published: December 5, 2025

For husbands Peter and Abe, Christmas is a time for miracles -- and unexpected party crashers.

Peter is all set to make this Christmas season the best for his husband. That is, until a cat is all but thrown into his lap and an unexpected and unwanted man crashes at their house for the holidays. Worse than the lack of privacy is the curtailing of their light BDSM play.

Abe can’t say no when an old flame begs for a place to stay. Temporarily. This man has fallen on hard times and needs a little kindness. However, there’s something more he wants than a roof over his head. As Abe struggles against seasonal depression, a couple of cats come to enliven the home he shares with Peter.

Between grief, jealousy, and a prying houseguest, can Abe and Peter kindle their spirits toward lovemaking and the holidays?

WARNING: Holiday Fatigue includes references to cutting behavior and thoughts of suicide that may be triggers for some readers, as well as mention of animal cruelty.

EXCERPT

Peter didn’t love the end of the semester, no matter that it meant a day off from teaching. He would much rather be filling his students’ heads with math facts than plugging in grades. Of course, if he hadn’t left so many assignments till the last minute, having graded them but not bothered to put them in the computer… He threw up his hands in exasperation and then signed, to no one in particular, “Why do I always do this to myself?”

He glanced around, seeing he was still alone in the classroom he shared with another co-teacher. He would normally not worry about others seeing him sign. Most people were hearing folks and didn’t know more than the alphabet, if they even knew that much, in ASL. He worked, though, at a school for the deaf, and the chances of someone knowing he was frustrated were high.

Probably some of the other teachers were in the same boat, having pushed off putting grades in the computer until this, the last day of the quarter before winter break. That was of no comfort when his co-teacher, Laura, was done with her grades and was hanging out somewhere in the building until three o’clock.

He darted a glance at his watch, saw he only had an hour and a half to finish inputting grades, and signed a little F-bomb.

An hour later found him sweating and swearing in his head, trying to work so fast that his fingers kept tripping over each other.

Someone touched his shoulder. He jumped a foot. Turning in his chair, he saw Laura gazing at him with a look of concern on her face. Then that expression passed and she wrinkled her nose at him before signing, “Are you still working?”

He nodded, wanting to return to his work but not wanting to put his back to her. That was rude.

“Give me your login and the list of remaining grades. We’ll divide and conquer.”

He hesitated, but only for an instant. Laura wasn’t the type to make offers like this every day. “Thank you,” he signed. “Why are you --”

“Consider it the gift from your Secret Santa.” She smirked. “You forgot we were exchanging gifts in the teacher’s lounge at 2:30, didn’t you?”

“Guilty,” he responded.

“Give me your login and I’ll help. Then you need to give your gift before your person leaves.”

“Too late,” Peter signed back before handing her a stack of graded papers. Hands free again, he signed, “Brent’s already left for the day. His kid got an ear infection on the last day of school.”

“Sucks,” she signed, her face sympathetic.

He jotted down his computer info and walked it over to her as she booted up her machine. “Thank you, Laura. Really.”

“I forgot to get you a gift,” she admitted.

“This is better than some ten-dollar token,” he assured her.

At exactly 2:58, he shut down his computer. Laura, who was a faster typist than he was, had finished her stack about five minutes earlier.

“Go home,” she signed. “Just don’t count on me saving your ass in the spring.”

He got out as soon as he could, his thoughts turning from gratitude to dreams of his husband. Abe, named for the poet and playwright Kobo Abe, wasn’t a fan of this particular holiday. Peter had been slowly changing that for his lover over the years, but each year it was a struggle to find out what would help Abe forget his pain.

He waved at another teacher as he headed for the main doors. This was a relatively new guy and for a moment, Peter couldn’t remember his name.

“Hi, Peter,” the unnamed man signed. “Have a good break.”

Peter frowned, realized he probably looked like the proverbial grouch, and held up a hand for the new teacher to stop. “What’s your name?” he signed.

“Estaban.” He grinned. “Spanish as the day is long and a gift from my immigrant parents that I don’t always appreciate.”

Yes, Peter remembered now. He hadn’t interacted with the new Spanish teacher since he’d arrived here two months ago because he was on another floor and that might as well be in another kingdom. “Sorry,” he apologized. “My brain is…” He shrugged.

“Already on break?” Estaban suggested.

Well, in a way, Peter thought as he excused himself and went outside. He walked to the sidewalk that paralleled the street. He could order a shared ride from the front of the school, but he felt restless. It was two hours before Abe would even be thinking about coming home. All day, Peter had been thinking, not of the grades or his lackadaisical way of letting them pile up, but of his husband and Christmas. Now, as he turned down Forrest Street in Colton, which was the college town closest to their home in Marisburg, he considered his unusual agitation. Abe had been acting steady as the day was long for a while now. There was no reason to expect he’d sink into depression. Even if he did, it wasn’t as if depression was his choice.

Peter looked up when he saw a flash of color out of the corner of his eye and had to smile. Every single tree had lights in their branches. Most of the lights were the beautiful, if common, white ones. The tree he was currently looking at had been decorated in tiny, colorful orbs. He smiled up at the tree that stood out. He touched the bark of the tree and grinned in appreciation. He would bring Abe down to see this tree. They’d call it the “Christmas Pride” tree.

Having a plan for this Thursday night at last, even if it was only to view a tree that stood out among its fellows, Peter took out his phone to order his shared ride. Before he could drop his gaze to the screen, he was caught off guard by another swash of color, this time moving fast. Self-preservation made him look up as a car, slowing abruptly, seemed to coast in front of him. With the colorfully decorated tree in the way, he couldn’t see everything clearly, but something was hurled out of the passenger window before the car sped off again.

People were such slobs. He wasn’t a trash collector by nature, but something about the white and black thing thrown out of the car’s window caught his attention. It was the right size to be any number of things, but the way it had twisted in midair… He went to the snowdrift where the careless people had aimed… and when he peered into the hole made by the object, he saw yellowish eyes looking back at him.

He gaped even as he tore off his winter coat and stooped to scoop up the little animal. It was a kitten, he realized, or a very small cat if it was full-grown. Mostly white with black splotches, it hissed at him as he bundled it into his coat.

The little critter wriggled hard and managed to get a paw free. The cat lashed out with razor-sharp claws and if not for Peter’s gloves, he would have taken quite the injury. As it was, one tiny cat nail caught in the leather of his right glove and the cat opened its mouth wide, surely making quite a fuss.

Peter carefully freed the little demon’s claw and reworked the bundling so the cat wouldn’t hurt him. If he’d been tossed out of a moving car, he’d be pissed too.

As he trekked back to the school, thinking of having the nurse check out the little feline monster before he took them home, the cat’s name flashed in his mind, and he grinned even as he cautioned himself that surely he and Abe couldn’t keep this little fighter. He’d try to impress upon whoever ended up with the cat that his or her name was Catankerous.

As he walked, goose bumps popped out on his arms, which were covered only by a short-sleeved polo because the school tended to run hot. He thought about nuzzling Catankerous, but the wicked gleam in their eyes made him reconsider. He wished he could speak to them, let them know help was coming.

Maybe two dozen steps from the front doors of the school, the cat settled down and quit struggling. Then, through the coat where he’d pressed it against his chest, Peter felt the attack cat begin to purr.

About the Author

Author’s Website

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Emily on Twitter

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

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

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{Blitz} The Lonely Prisoner by Michael J. Kundu

2025-12-02T10:00:00.001-05:00

The Michael Fletcher Series, Book 1

An Award-Winning Psychological Thriller

Mystery / Thriller

Date Published: February 26, 2024

Publisher: MindStir Media

At just 25 years old, Michael Fletcher is wrongfully convicted of murder and sentenced to 26 years in prison. Despite his desperate pleas of innocence, the system turns a blind eye, leaving him trapped behind bars. But Michael refuses to surrender to fate. Within the sterile confines of his cell, he educates himself, mentors others, and clings to the hope that justice will one day prevail.

Upon his long-awaited release, Michael embarks on a daunting mission to uncover the truth behind his wrongful conviction. Yet, freedom is not what he expected. The world has changed, and shocking revelations force him into a battle against corruption, deception, and the scars of his past. Can he reclaim the life that was stolen from him?

Award Winner in the Psychological Genre of the International Firebird Book Awards

Perfect for fans of John Grisham, Scott Turow, and Michael Connelly.

High-stakes legal drama
Powerful themes of injustice, resilience, and redemption
A thought-provoking journey through the flaws of the justice system

Keep reading The Michael Fletcher Series with Accused Again – Freedom Was Just the Beginning

About the Author

He has a great passion for learning languages and travelling across the globe. He enjoys spending time with his family and lives in Luxembourg with his Italian wife and two teenage children.

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{Blitz} The Quest for Freedom by Matt Devitt

2025-12-01T10:00:00.001-05:00

Epic Fantasy

Date Published: 07-05-2025

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.

About the Author

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.

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https://mybook.to/TheQuestforFreedom

Purchase on the Author's Site at a discount using the code "tour"

https://theconquesttrilogy.com/

My Current 5 Goals: Chaos, Growth, and a Little Bit of Magic

2025-11-19T11:30:00.033-05:00

My Current 5 Goals: Chaos, Growth, and a Little Bit of Magic

Life lately has been a whirlwind of college assignments, book reviews, planner spreads, and family moments. And while I thrive in chaos (it’s literally in my blog name), I also find comfort in setting goals, little anchors that keep me focused, inspired, and moving forward. So today, I’m sharing my current five goals. They’re personal, practical, and just a little bit magical.

🎓 1. Finish My Associate of Science Degree

Going back to college has been one of the most empowering decisions I’ve made. I’m working toward my Associate of Science with a concentration in Business Administration, and while it’s challenging, it’s also deeply fulfilling. My goal is to finish strong, balancing coursework with blogging, family, and everything else life throws my way.

📚 2. Grow My Chaotic Ramblings

This blog is my heart. It’s where I share book reviews, emotional reflections, and planner chaos. My goal is to keep growing, more posts, more engagement, more creative series (like “Quotes That Keep Me Grounded” and “Bookish Confessions”). I want My Chaotic Ramblings to be a space where readers feel seen, heard, and inspired.

📱 3. Expand My Social Media Presence

Between TikTok (@chaoticpsyche2016), Instagram (@planning_w_chaoticpsyche), and Facebook, I’ve built a beautiful little community. My goal is to show up more consistently, share behind-the-scenes chaos, and connect with fellow book lovers and planners. Bonus points if I finally master those trending TikTok transitions.

🏡 4. Keep Dreaming About My Bookstore

Owning a bookstore is my long-term dream, a cozy, chaotic haven filled with fantasy novels, planner supplies, and community events. While I’m not opening doors just yet, my goal is to keep dreaming, planning, and maybe even sketching out a business plan as part of my college work.

💖 5. Prioritize Myself Without Guilt

As a mom of three adult kids, a wife of 13 years, and a full-time student/blogger, it’s easy to put myself last. But I’m learning that self-care isn’t selfish, it’s necessary. My goal is to carve out time for rest, joy, and creativity. Whether it’s reading for pleasure, decorating my planner, or just sitting in silence, I’m choosing me.

These goals aren’t about perfection—they’re about progress. About showing up, embracing the chaos, and trusting that every small step matters. Thanks for being part of this journey with me. I’d love to hear what goals you’re working on, too. Let’s cheer each other on.

5 Songs That Speak to My Soul

2025-11-18T10:00:00.075-05:00

5 Songs That Speak to My Soul

Music has always been my emotional compass. Whether I’m curled up with a book, planning out my week, or just trying to make sense of life’s chaos, there’s always a song playing in the background, sometimes loud and messy, sometimes soft and grounding. Today, I want to share five songs that mean the world to me. These aren’t just favorites, they’re reflections of who I am, what I’ve lived through, and how I keep moving forward.

🎵 1. Ordinary by Alex Warren

For me, this song speaks to the quiet strength of long-term love. I’ve been married for 13 years, and while life isn’t always glamorous, it’s the ordinary moments, late-night talks, shared laughter, quiet support, that build something extraordinary. “Ordinary” captures that beautifully. It’s not flashy, it’s not dramatic, it’s real. And that’s what makes it powerful.

🎵 2. I Am Not Okay by Jelly Roll

This one’s raw. It’s the song I turn to when I need to feel seen in my struggles. Jelly Roll doesn’t sugarcoat the hard stuff, and neither do I. Between college deadlines, emotional parenting moments, and the pressure to keep everything together, there are days when I’m not okay. And that’s okay. This song gives me permission to feel it all, and to keep going anyway.

🎵 3. Memory I Don’t Mess With by Lee Brice

This song is a haunting tribute to the kind of love that leaves a permanent mark. Memory I Don’t Mess With isn’t about nostalgia, it’s about restraint. It’s about knowing that some memories are so powerful, so emotionally charged, that revisiting them could unravel everything you’ve worked to rebuild.

Lee Brice sings about a past relationship filled with vivid, intimate moments, “Red leaves on the river,” “Cold walk in December,” and “Moonlight on the backseat.” These aren’t just snapshots of love; they’re emotional landmines. He knows that if he lets himself go back, even mentally, he might fall all over again. So he doesn’t. He protects himself by keeping that memory untouched.

For me, this song resonates deeply. As a blogger, a mom of three grown kids, and someone who’s lived through seasons of change, I understand the weight of memories that linger. There are chapters I don’t reread, not because they weren’t beautiful, but because they were too beautiful. And sometimes, protecting your peace means letting those memories stay exactly where they are.

🎵 4. The Dance by Garth Brooks

This one’s a classic, and for good reason. The Dance is about embracing the journey, even when it hurts. It’s about choosing love, risk, and growth over safety and regret. As someone who’s built a life full of chaos, creativity, and connection, this song feels like my anthem. I wouldn’t trade the messy moments for anything, because they’ve shaped me into who I am.

🎵 5. Hard to Say I’m Sorry by Chicago

This song is a heartfelt plea for forgiveness wrapped in vulnerability and longing. It opens with the line “Everybody needs a little time away,” setting the tone for a relationship that’s been strained but not broken. The narrator isn’t just apologizing, he’s fighting for connection, for closeness, for the chance to make things right.

What makes this song resonate with me is its emotional honesty. It’s not just about saying “I’m sorry”, it’s about meaning it. About recognizing the damage, owning the pain, and promising to rebuild. As someone who’s been married for 13 years, I know that love isn’t always smooth. There are moments when space is needed, when words fail, and when reconciliation feels like a mountain. But this song reminds me that love is worth the climb.

The chorus, “After all that we’ve been through, I will make it up to you, I promise to,” feels like a vow. One that echoes through the hard days and the healing ones. It’s a reminder that relationships thrive not on perfection, but on persistence, humility, and the courage to say what’s hard.

These five songs are woven into the soundtrack of my life. They’ve helped me through college stress, parenting transitions, blogging doubts, and personal growth. They remind me that it’s okay to be messy, emotional, and real, and that every note, every lyric, is part of my story.

Do you have songs that speak to your soul? I’d love to hear them. Let’s build a playlist of chaos, comfort, and connection together.

What I’m Afraid of as a Blogger

2025-11-17T10:00:00.035-05:00

What I’m Afraid of as a Blogger

Blogging is one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. It’s given me a space to share my love of books, connect with readers and authors, and embrace the beautiful chaos that defines my life. But if I’m being honest, it also comes with fear, quiet, persistent, sometimes paralyzing fear.

And today, I want to talk about it.

💬 The Fear of Being Invisible

One of my biggest fears as a blogger is that my words won’t matter. That I’ll pour my heart into a review, a reflection, a post, and it’ll disappear into the void. No comments. No shares. No acknowledgment. Just silence.

It’s not about needing validation. It’s about wanting connection. I blog because I believe stories matter, and I want to be part of the conversation. When that conversation feels one-sided, it’s hard not to wonder: Am I doing enough? Am I reaching anyone?

📚 The Fear of Not Being “Bookish Enough”

I’m a mood reader. I ramble. I don’t always follow trends or read the latest releases. My reviews are emotional, messy, and deeply personal. And sometimes, I worry that I don’t fit the mold of what a “successful” book blogger looks like.

I see polished posts, curated feeds, and perfectly timed content, and I admire them. But I also fear being judged for my chaos. For my late-night reviews. For my planner spreads that veer off course. For being me.

🎓 The Fear of Falling Behind

Between college (hello, Associate of Science), motherhood (three adult kids I adore), and marriage (13 years strong), life is full. And while I love blogging, I constantly fear I’m not doing enough. That I’m missing opportunities. That I’m falling behind in a space that moves fast and rewards consistency.

Sometimes I stare at my planner and think, How am I supposed to keep up with everything? The truth is, I can’t. Not always. And that’s okay. But it still scares me.

💖 The Fear of Vulnerability

Blogging is personal. I share pieces of myself in every post, my thoughts, my emotions, my chaos. And while that’s what makes My Chaotic Ramblings real, it also makes me feel exposed. What if someone misunderstands me? What if I say the wrong thing? What if I’m too much?

These fears don’t stop me from blogging. But they do sit quietly in the background, whispering doubts I have to work through every time I hit “publish.”

I’m sharing this not to dwell in fear, but to name it. Because naming it takes away its power. And because I know I’m not alone.

If you’re a blogger, creator, or reader who’s ever felt this way—know that your voice matters. Your chaos is welcome. And your fears don’t define you.

Thanks for being here. Thanks for reading. And thanks for making this space feel a little less scary.

My Proudest Moment as a Blogger

2025-11-16T10:00:00.001-05:00

My Proudest Moment as a Blogger

When I started My Chaotic Ramblings, I didn’t have a grand plan. I just wanted a space to share my thoughts, my love for books, and maybe a little bit of the beautiful chaos that defines my life. I never imagined how far this blog would take me—or how deeply it would connect me to readers, authors, and stories that changed me.

But if I had to choose one moment that stands out as my proudest, it’s this: the first time an author personally thanked me for a review that made them feel seen.

💬 More Than Just Words

It wasn’t a bestseller or a viral post. It was a quiet, emotional review of a fantasy romance that hit me right in the heart. I wrote about the character growth, the pacing, the emotional gut-punches, and how the story mirrored parts of my own journey. I didn’t hold back. I rambled, I reflected, I got personal.

A few days later, the author reached out. They told me that my review captured exactly what they hoped readers would feel. That my words reminded them of why they write. That I made them cry, in the best way.

I sat there, stunned. And then I cried too.

📚 Why It Mattered

As a blogger, especially one who’s juggling motherhood, college, and a million other things, it’s easy to wonder if your words matter. I’ve been married for 13 years, raised three amazing kids (all now adults), and recently returned to college. Life is full. Blogging is squeezed into the margins.

But that moment reminded me that even in the chaos, my voice matters. My perspective matters. And the way I connect with stories, emotionally, honestly, sometimes messily—is exactly what makes My Chaotic Ramblings special.

✨ The Ripple Effect

Since then, I’ve had other proud moments: hosting giveaways, supporting indie authors, building a planner-loving community on Instagram, and sharing bookish chaos on TikTok. But that first heartfelt thank-you? That was the moment I realized I wasn’t just reviewing books, I was building bridges between creators and readers.

And that’s something I’ll always be proud of.

Thanks for being part of this journey. Whether you’ve read one post or a hundred, your presence here means the world. Let’s keep rambling, connecting, and celebrating the stories that move us.