North Storm by Will Okati #BDSM #GayRomance @changelingpress

 

A Gay BDSM Sea Adventure Romance

 

Action Adventure, BDSM, Gay Romance

To Be Published: May 30, 2025

 

North, a rural water farmer, has come to the big citta to be trained in the art of deep-water treasure diving. A man can make enough in a season to take care of his family for years -- except as a novice and a country boy, North can't find anyone willing to teach him the job.

That is, until he finds a mentor in the wild, sexually charismatic "Storm." Storm promises to teach North everything he knows, from navigating the dangers of the hunt to submission in bed -- but only if North is willing to give himself over completely.

Praise for North Storm

 

"Will Okati has once again written a book that will capture you attention from the first page, with the rich world in which this story unfolds and with the lava hot sensuality that the characters express. The love that these two share will leave you flushed and reaching for something to cool down!"

--Sabella, Joyfully Reviewed

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Will Okati

 

For someone who had been raised on the sea, North was beginning to hate the sight of it. Blue waters, green, aqua, all of them stretching as far as his eyes could see. He'd been rowing for two weeks now, the winds too calm for his small sail to pick up much of a breeze to help propel him forward.

Lucky for him, then, that he'd almost arrived at his destination.

Just ahead, North could see the tall, stone turrets and walkways of the Citta del'Acqua, the massive capital of his world. There were other boats not too far away, fishermen dangling rods over their sides and glancing up in interest at North, scruffy from his fortnight's travel and pale with exhaustion.

"Ho!" one of them shouted, his voice carrying across the water. "Where are you bound, boy?"

"I'm no boy!" North fired back automatically. True, he looked younger than his years, but he'd passed boyhood five years back and was fully an adult. He hated it when people thought him younger than he was.

"Oh, oh, a temper he has, a fine temper!" The fisherman and his cronies laughed. Still others lifted their heads to watch. "Well, firebrand, where are you going? Come to see the sights of the citta?"

North sailed in a little closer, careful not to lose control of his small craft and bump into one of the fishing boats. "I'm looking for the master clamsmen," he said, once he didn't have to shout. "The divers. Can you tell me where to find them?"

The fishermen laughed. "A boy from the country, come to be a diver?" One of them hooted. "Boy, have you ever been deeper than eight feet below the surface of the water?"

North stiffened. "I'm not a boy. And yes, I have been further down. Fifteen feet, last I counted."

"You'd have to go a distance more to hunt the clams," the fisherman said, his weathered face crinkling in amusement. "What are you really doing here, anyway? Run away from home, did you, boy?"

North's jaw tightened. "Just tell me where I can find the divers," he said through gritted teeth. "I'll be on my way, then."

"Why, when this is so much more fun?" The fisherman gestured toward his boat. "Come on, we've a spare rod and reel. You could help us out with the day's work, and we'd split the catch evenly. Give you a little money to help you through your first night here. Plenty of wine, song, and women, eh?" He winked and splashed his oar into the water, to the great amusement of his mates.

North shook his head. "I prefer men. And I'd rather not stay and fish." His back was still bristling from their calling him boy. "Do you know where the divers are or not?"

"Well!" The fisherman drew himself upright, as if taking offense at North's rejection of his offer. "There's no need to get all hoity-toity with me, young man. Of course I know where the divers are, but why should I tell you? You haven't earned the right to the knowledge yet."

North sighed. If this was the way they operated in these parts, he'd just as soon go home. But he couldn't, could he? He'd come to the citta for two reasons: one, to learn how to dive for the giant clams that had bizarrely migrated to his village, and two, to learn how to be a Man Hand, one of those who taught others how to give sexual pleasure. And how could he teach if he didn't know himself? "Fine," he said, taking out his own rod and reel. "If I catch a fish for you, will you be happy then? Will you tell me where to find what I'm looking for?"

The fishermen nudged each other, grinning. "A big fish," their leader clarified. "Larger than my hand, and thicker than my arm. None of this penny-ante stuff for us, thank you. Then we'll send you on your way."

"Good," North said, as he reached into his nearly empty bait bucket and pulled out a scrap of dead fish innards from the last meal he'd caught. "Storm is waiting for me. Or at least his letter said he was supposed to be."

The fisherman's jaw dropped. "S-Storm?" he asked after a moment, voice wobbling. "You're supposed to report to Storm?"

"Why?" North cast his line. "Is there more than one?" He grinned wickedly at the fisherman, who looked completely taken aback, mouth moving in a useless motion up and down. "No worries. I'll be sure to tell him what good care you took of me." He laughed to himself, softly, as the fisherman began to curse underneath his breath. No, indeed. He was no callow boy to be played with.

About the Author

Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a lifelong love of storytelling. Will's definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for, though he -- not she anymore -- is a lot less quiet these days.

 

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

 

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Ky's Revenge by Mikala Ash #ScienceFiction #Romance @changelingpress

 

The Rebellious Slave 3

Post-Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Action Adventure Romance

To Be Published: May 30, 2025

 

 

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

The lusty adventure continues!

 

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

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

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

Excerpt

Copyright ©2025 Mikala Ash

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Call me Lord Thorfin!”

“Lord Thorfin,” the man hastily corrected himself.

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

Thorfin!

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

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

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

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

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

“Then put him to the question.”

What question?

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

Of course. This was about Rowan!

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

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

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

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

Ky repeated his answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

About the Author

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

 

Author on Facebook

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

 

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Mend Your Heart and Find Emotional Freedom by Alina Palancean

 

Nonfiction

Date Published: May 16, 2025

 

 

"Mend Your Heart and Find Emotional Freedom" is a deep dive into people’s hearts and their love stories.

This book provides a unique perspective on heartbreak from grief, loss, pain, trauma, divorce, and love.

 

It offers insight into people’s hearts and how to heal from past experiences with love, compassion, kindness, and forgiveness.

 

Love is the path to true healing!

 

With Rapid Transformational Therapy, Alina has been empowering women and men all over the globe to reclaim their voice, own their power, find love within, embrace their story to create and manifest the life they truly desire. Her experiences led her to her purpose of helping others let go of past burdens, break the cycle of suffering, and find peace, healing, freedom, joy and happiness. Alina inspires everyone to lead with love from their heart space and see the magic unfold in the most extraordinary ways.

About the Author

Alina Palancean is a Rapid Transformational Practitioner and an Inner Child Specialist. Rapid Transformational Therapy has allowed her to change people's lives in minutes rather than years. This unique method gets to the root cause of the problems and unlocks limiting beliefs, lifelong blocks, and cycles that keep us trapped. The RTT sessions empower individuals to discover their own strengths, let go of the past and develop the skills necessary for personal transformation. Alina is passionate about raising awareness of the power of the subconscious mind and the impact it has on our daily lives. She regularly shares insights and tips through her social media, aiming to inspire others to take charge of their emotional well-being.

Alina believes that everyone has the potential to overcome their challenges and achieve their dreams. Her warm and empathetic approach creates a safe space for healing and growth, tailoring her sessions to meet the individual needs of each client.

Alina is convinced that inner child healing is the path to the rediscovery of the true self and reconnecting with lost parts of your inner world. Looking through your inner child lens opens you up to curiosity, kindness, magic, acceptance, and unconditional love.

 

Contact Links

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REBEL by Harley Wylde #MCromance @changelingpress

 

(Devil’s Boneyard MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: May 23, 2025

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

EXCERPT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I laughed, genuinely surprised. “You military?”

Something darkened in her expression. “Was.”

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

She eyed the drink suspiciously. “Original.”

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

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

“Like the city?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book. She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies. Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and don't forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts and other exciting perks.

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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HUMAN WITHOUT END by CYMO #sciencefiction

 

Science Fiction

Date Published: May 2, 2025

 

 

From the decadence of the 80s to the cold, futuristic realm of biotech, “Human Without End” explores the coming age of the “augmented human,” an imminent technological revolution with uncertain consequences for our future. At the center of this speculative reality is the dreary figure of Norman Klein.

Over a period of 50 years, Norman witnesses the rise of Jay Cosberg, a tech billionaire who wants to discover the secret for eternal life. Their fates become intertwined through Norman’s cousin, Juliette, who becomes Jay Cosberg’s muse and marries him. Norman then becomes the unwilling witness to the couple’s history in which the lines between biology, love and technology begin to blur.

About the Author

Human Without End is CYMO’s first novel. The pseudonymous author is also a director of several films and documentaries, as well as a composer of numerous film scores.

 

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