2025 has been a tough year. I'm hoping for better in 2026.
Saturday, December 20, 2025
Father of Monsters Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Contemporary Fantasy, Mythology
Date Published: December 9, 2025
A world once whole, now split in two. The flower patch painted a deep crimson hue. Eyes of flame gaze on red lock and key. For the brothers' misfortune, he is set free.
Anthony and Andrew Redson live an ordinary life on the outskirts of civilization. But their estranged father is anything but ordinary. When his most ancient and dangerous enemy attacks their childhood home, the twins are thrust into a world unlike any they've known. A world of gods, monsters, knights, and magic. Trapped upon paths of bloodshed and tragedy, the brothers' can rely upon no one. Not even each other.
About the Author
Jonah Hunt is the author of Father of Monsters. Since he was little, he's been enamored with dragons, magic, and storytelling. After ten years of washing dishes and housekeeping, he aims to make his dream of writing full-time finally come true.
He lives in one of Florida's reasonably sane neighborhoods with his two dogs.
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Friday, December 19, 2025
The Love of a Dog Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
A Chronicle of a Remarkable Retriever
Memoir/Love, Black Lab, Dog
Date Published: 02-14-2023
The decision to get a dog becomes a journey from high expectations
through the reality of care giving and the fun of companionship to enduring
love and finally loss. Dog lovers will see themselves and remember their
beloved canine friends. They will wish they had known Tasha as they read about
this quirky dog and her love of family and fun. Readers can applaud the
transforming power of love.
About the Author
Jo McCauley Prouty spent her formative years in West Virginia and
Virginia, where she attended the College of William and Mary. She is a former
educator and now applies her nurturing skills to flower gardening and
entertaining her grandchildren. She resides in Minnesota with her orange
tabby, Cooper. Her work has appeared in "The Journal of The Braxton Historical
Society" and the "Journal of Opinions, Ideas and Essays."
Contact Links
Purchase Links
https://mybook.to/TheLoveofaDog
Thursday, December 18, 2025
Son of the Moon Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Son of the Moon, Book One
MM Romance / Contemporary Fantasy
Date Published: June 13, 2025
"Don't come crying to me if he somehow manages to actually kill you!"
Twenty-one-year-old Jesse leads a pretty ordinary life until he encounters Jamie, who, covered in soot and ash, can't even remember where the blood on his hands came from.
Aware of the risk, Jesse offers him a place for the night, and what starts as simple act of kindness quickly deepens into a profound connection. Jamie explores the world anew, curious and with an endearing innocence, but things change rapidly when their first intimate moment nearly ends in tragedy. Even worse, Jamie begins to experience vivid nightmares; and discovering mysterious powers inside of him, the question of who he really is becomes all the more pressing. What did he do before he met Jesse? Is Jamie truly the harmless person he seems to be?
Son of the Moon Serendipity is the first in a series of seven books, where MM Romance collides with Contemporary Fantasy in a gripping tale for everyone who loves Hurt/Comfort and Found Family.
About the Author
Janelle Cressida loves to take her readers on highly emotional
rollercoasters where every victory, however small, has its own price.
Contact Links
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Wednesday, December 17, 2025
All I Want for Christmas Teaser #rabtbooktours
Gay Christmas Romance, 2nd Chances
Date Published: December 19, 2025
All James wants for Christmas is his roommate Cillian. And he might just be getting lucky this year.
Who doesn’t love the holidays? Sleigh bells racing down winding country roads. Chestnuts, open fires, Yule logs. Homemade fruitcake that’s soaked up a full bottle of brandy. James adores it all, but his long-concealed desire for his roommate Cillian runs deeper than a river of holiday booze and burns hotter than any crackling Christmas hearth. But since he’d rather not risk losing a dear friend by making any unwanted moves, he’s kept that to himself for years.
Until now. When a flight plan goes FUBAR and James doesn’t have a way home for the holidays, Cillian suggests they keep Christmas in their own way. Tree, lights, feasting, the works.
It’s tempting. Almost as tempting as Cillian himself. And when James starts to get a clue that his interest might just be reciprocated… well. That changes the entire game. Time to bring out the holly and the jolly and maybe he’ll get his man under the tree this year.
EXCERPT
James bowed his head and thumped it gently against the windowpane. At first, he thought the quiet rattle and bang was from the shitty, landlord special, glass rattling in its frame. The much louder swearing, first frustrated and then triumphant, told him Cillian was home.
His heart rate, already nice and high, spiked a jolt or two skyward.
Cillian. His roommate. Platonic, not permanently attached, but in high demand, with a new pretty boy or big bear on his arm at least twice a month. He rattled all the windows when he had company, and James had learned to take it with a grain of salt, a snorted chuckle, and a really good pair of noise-canceling headphones -- because honestly, Cillian was one of those guys you couldn’t help but love. Some men had a gift for that. Half Irish and leaning into it, using the accent he’d gotten from his Galway mother to its full advantage. Full head of wild red curls and a day or so’s worth of stubble. Surprisingly broad shoulders, built like a Viking bard, with a cute little pillow belly when he sat down.
“Your call is very important to us. Please hold…”
James missed the rest of the robot spiel, too busy watching Cillian wander into their living room, tossing his keys in the general direction of their coffee table and his own knitted cap toward the back of the couch. No company tonight, James noticed.
Cillian grinned broadly, his teeth white and even, and mimed “phone call?” before putting his finger to his lips and plunking cheerfully down onto their couch. Yep. There was the belly. During dry spells, which happened far more often than James would like, he itched to drop down beside Cillian and rest his head on that nice little cushion to see if it was as comfortable as it looked.
“Won’t say a word,” Cillian mouthed to James. Then almost immediately, out loud: “Problems? Weren’t you supposed to be on a plane tonight?”
“Supposed to be, sure.” James gestured at his phone. “Airline says otherwise.”
“You bought your ticket weeks ago.”
“Again, airline’s website says otherwise. Trying to get an actual human on the line to convince them of that.”
Cillian winced in kind sympathy and idly rested his hand on his stomach where his Aran sweater had ridden up an inch or two. “Sucks, my friend. Wish you good luck.”
James’ fingers twitched. Their windows didn’t keep all the cold out, but Cillian ran warm. He’d be toasty as a fireplace to cuddle up with. James could rest his head or roll over to face him while they talked about a little of everything and a lot of nothing. And while he was there, possibly nose into the warm skin. Press a light kiss to Cillian’s navel. Or flip completely onto his stomach, braced on his arms, all the better to take care of the zipper on Cillian’s jeans and --
Okay, so he didn’t think about that kind of goings-on only during dry spells. More like all the time, actually.
All I want for Christmas is youuuuuu…
Click. “Your call has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again.”
James clapped a hand to his forehead and growled through gritted teeth, wondering if Androids could actually accordion up and break across the middle if you squeezed them hard enough. Either way, he was about to find out, either from travel-induced rage or sexual frustration.
“Ah, now. I know that look.”
James had closed his eyes, but he heard Cillian lever himself off the couch and clatter over before thumping a companionable hand to his back. “It’s a few days till Christmas still. You’re not going to get a human on the line during rush hour.”
“True so far.” James opened his eyes. “Suggestions?”
“Sure, easy. Call back tomorrow morning and yell at them then. Or not, because they’re humans and they’re probably at least twice as pissed at the system as you are, so be a kind fellow and go easy on the poor bastards. Figure it all out with a cool head then.”
Cillian grinned at him from inches away. He smelled of bayberries and fir and wool. “And in the meantime, I happen to know the perfect cure for a raging temper fit.”
Despite himself, a matching smile tugged at James’ lips. Cillian was just magic that way. “Don’t say drinks.”
“Drinks!” Cillian thumped him harder, then tossed an arm around James’ shoulders. “Best idea I’ve heard today. Let’s go.”
With a choice between that and listening to bubblegum caroling for another hour -- well, it wasn’t really a choice at all.
All I want for Christmas is you. He tapped Cillian’s fist with his own. “You’re on. Let’s go.”
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.
Author Contact Links
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15
The Deviation Release Blitz #GayBookPromotions
NEW RELEASE
Book Title: The Deviation
Author, Cover Artist, and Publisher: Rebecca Raine
Release Date: December 17, 2025
Tense/POV: first person, present tense, alternating POV
Genres: Contemporary MM Romance
Tropes: Rock star, first time bi, workplace romance, forbidden love, found family
Themes: Pining, coming out, integrity, trust, belonging, loyalty
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 88 000 words
It is Book 3 in a series where each book can be read as a standalone.
It does not end on a cliffhanger.
HEA guaranteed.
Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited
When my quiet life fell apart, he turned up the music in my soul. How do I pretend we never happened?
Blurb
Johnny
I did everything my parents wanted: got a respectable job, married my childhood sweetheart, and pushed my rock star dreams into the background. It was enough for me… until my divorce cracked open the cage.
Now old cravings rush to the surface, and I ache to satisfy each one. Starting with the gorgeous man I lock eyes with at a musical festival. Calum is all kinds of perfect. As a manager, he could accelerate my music career. As a man, he reignites the fire in my soul. I can’t have him both ways.
When my band signs with Calum’s company, we agree to keep our distance. No one can know we’ve met before. How far we’ve gone. How deeply we’ve tasted. Our futures depend on the secrets we must keep.
Calum
If I’d known who Johnny was the night we met, this never would have happened. Getting involved with a client is forbidden, and I can’t risk my job—or my sister’s security—for some lust-fuelled romance.
Working together doesn’t have to be complicated. That’s what I tell myself every time we avoid touching. When his eyes tease, and his lyrics seduce. As our professional successes mount, the connection between us only grows stronger.
There are lines we can’t cross. Boundaries we can’t break. But when Johnny is all I want, all I think about… how do I stay away?
Excerpt
Johnny ambles over to invade my personal space. The warm, freshly showered scent of him creeps into my nostrils, causing me to inhale, but I don’t shy away from his closeness. He’s in a dangerous mood. If I show weakness, he may pounce.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks, gesturing with the tumbler that dangles from the fingers of his right hand.
“Sure.” It’s a terrible idea, but at the moment I’ll say yes to anything that will put some distance between us. He withdraws to the kitchen, and I suck in a lungful of oxygen. It doesn’t help. His presence lingers in every square inch of air. It strokes my insides, burrowing into my cells and setting them on fire.
This is not the meeting I expected. We’re supposed to talk about Ned and how we can be allies in my bid to win him over. This isn’t supposed to be a seduction, and I am definitely not supposed to be gagging for it.
Stalking after him, I plant myself in the entrance to the kitchen and glare at the lines of his muscular back. “Why am I here, Johnny?” The clipped words imply irritation, though the truth is probably closer to lustful vexation.
He turns, smirking as he delivers the generous glass of scotch to my hand. “Because you can’t stop thinking about me.”
My spine stiffens at his knowing drawl. I snatch the drink before escaping back to the living room. It has more room for pacing and I’m unsure what he’ll do if I stay still. “I mean, why did you ask me to come here tonight?”
He drains his glass as he returns. Dumping it on the coffee table, he steps into the path I’m wearing through his carpet. I come to an abrupt halt to prevent a head-on collision. His hands lift to cup my face, the calloused fingertips dragging over my cheekbones. The deep brown of his eyes drink me in, and his mouth is a breath away from mine. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says in a rough whisper.
There’s no smirk this time. Only need and heat and passion. “I wonder where you are, constantly. What you’re doing. How you taste.” His body crowds mine. Our hips brush together and, holy fuck, we’re both hard as nails. This man is lightning in my veins. The way I want him hurts, and I glory in the sharpness of the need. “I imagine you masturbating to the thought of me,” he whispers, “every time I masturbate to the thought of you.”
“Johnny.” The name is a groan, pulled all the way from my throbbing cock and up through my vocal cords. “We can’t do this.”
“Sure we can.” His head dips, and I shiver as his lips brush my throat. “I’ll show you.” His hands are on my hips now, tugging me more firmly against him. His mouth chases mine but I turn my head, my eyes drifting closed.
“I need…” My words falter as he rocks his hips, rubbing his erection against mine.
One hand threads through my hair. Taking it in a firm grip, he angles my face back towards his. His panting breath fills my open mouth. “I need you, too.” And then he’s kissing me. His tongue in my mouth. His body flush against mine.
God help me, I kiss him back. Even as I force my arms to stay at my sides and my body to remain still, I can’t resist losing myself for precious moments in his kiss, in the scotch and temptation of him.
When a needful moan reverberates from my throat to his lips, he pulls back long enough to smile at me. It’s the smile that shocks me back to my senses. Lifting one hand to his chest, I force myself to push him away.
“No, Johnny.” We stand there staring at each other, our chests heaving. “I need Fifth Circle. I need to sign a band and my boss has decided it has to be your band.” His smile dies and he straightens away from my touch. “If I don’t sign you to Rush, I lose my job. If my boss finds out what’s going on between us, I lose my job.” The ramifications of my actions slam into me and I drain the glass of scotch I’m still holding before putting it beside his. “I can’t risk my job. Not for anything.”
Not for you. The unspoken words hang between us.
His gaze hardens and a bitter grimace curls his lips. “In that case, we’re both shit out of luck.” Picking up the empty glasses, he storms back towards the kitchen. “There may not even be a band anymore.”
About the Author
Rebecca is a long-time lover of all things romance. Whether it’s a book, movie, or real life, she will always have more fun if there’s a love interest thrown into the mix. She lives in Queensland, Australia with her very own hero husband, two quirky kids and one big, black dog. Other than reading and writing books, her favourite things include loud music, enjoying a glass of wine on the patio, organising everything in existence, and spending too much time on the Internet.
Author Links
Newsletter Sign-up | Blog/Website
Pinterest | Instagram | Goodreads
Tuesday, December 16, 2025
The Making of a Warrior of Light Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Conquering Pain to Claim Your Power
Memoir
Date Published: December 16, 2025
Publisher: Elite Online Publishing
In The Making of a Warrior of Light, Theresa Rubi Garcia takes readers on a poignant journey through the trials and triumphs that have shaped her into a beacon of resilience and hope. Born into a world shadowed by prejudice and hardship, Theresa's life is a testament to the power of transformation through love and inner strength.
From the dark corridors of her past where she faced abuse, neglect, and the crushing weight of racism, Theresa emerged with a fierce determination to change not just her circumstances but to inspire others to find their light within. Her path from the depths of despair as a young mother in the strip clubs of urban America to a respected entrepreneur and advocate for individuals with disabilities is not just a story—it's a movement.
With each page, Theresa extends a hand of solidarity and empowerment, urging her readers to embrace their own battles as gateways to growth and enlightenment. This heartrending memoir is more than an account of overcoming adversity; it's a clarion call to all who find themselves struggling against the odds. The Making of a Warrior of Light is an ode to the human spirit's ability to heal and thrive, encouraging everyone to rise up as warriors of their own destiny.
Embrace our own journeys with the good, bad, and ugly. Our families will close these cycles. Join Theresa as she shares not just the pain of her past but the love and light that guided her through. You will be inspired by the story of a woman who turned her darkest moments into stepping stones toward a luminous future.
About the Author
Theresa Rubi Garcia is a global award-winning entrepreneur, speaker, and author dedicated to helping people unlock their divine potential and helping businesses make, keep, and claim more money. As the founder of Rubi’s Positive Empowerment, she blends belief transformation with strategic financial tools to drive true, lasting success.
A certified Mindvalley Coach, HeartMath® Coach, and PSYCH-K® Practitioner, Theresa draws from over 20 years of experience in diversity, business development, and personal healing. She is also a prayer chaplain, retreat leader, and doctoral candidate in Bible Interpretation.
Her signature HOTT Technique empowers others to become “Miracle Magnets” through inner alignment, and when she’s not teaching or speaking, you’ll find her trail running through the Rocky Mountains.
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Tiny Teaser Tuesday #rabtbooktours
Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap
Date Published: December 19, 2025
A giant of a man with a shattered soul. A mother running on fear and fury. Love isn’t even an afterthought.
Tiny -- Christmas meant nothing to me. Just cold nights and bad memories. Then she arrived at Haven. Penny. A woman who’s already fought her share of battles. She and her girls light up this place like the most beautiful of Christmas lights. I never thought I’d crave my own family. But watching them hang ornaments and laugh? Feels like coming home.
Penny -- I don’t believe in miracles. Not anymore. Not until I meet a man who looks like sin and loves like salvation. Tiny’s scarred, quiet, and so gentle with my girls it breaks my heart. This Christmas, we’re not running. We’re starting over. All of us. Including Tiny. One kiss, one breath, one strand of lights at a time, I will build my girls a future to look forward to. And maybe, just maybe, my own Christmas miracle can withstand the storm about to crash down on us.
Tiny (Kiss of Death MC 9) is a gritty, emotional, and deeply romantic story of survival, redemption, and a protective alpha hero who would burn the world down to keep his family dafe. Can be read as a standalone in the Kiss of Death MC series.
WARNING: Depictions of domestic abuse, violence, and strong language may be triggers for some readers. Reader discretion is advised.
EXCERPT
Tiny
I ducked my head and turned slightly sideways as I stepped through the door of the large warehouse, a habit born from years of door frames too small for my frame. The club had renovated the structure several months ago because the club’s old ladies demanded the place be secured for their new project. The shelter only accepted horribly abused women deemed high risk for retaliatory violence from their abusers. We’d started calling the shelter Haven. The girls all did their best to make it a haven. It also meant men with my size weren’t exactly welcome.
I smelled fresh coffee when I stepped inside, a stark contrast to the leather and exhaust fumes that clung to my clothes. Inside, the few conversations stuttered to silence as heads turned my way. The newer people stared at me with wide eyes and a touch of fear. I was used to it. Nearly seven feet tall, shoulders wide as a doorway, with a mohawk and a beard you could lose a small animal in, I never entered a room without changing its atmosphere.
Violet spotted me from across the common area and waved me over with an enthusiastic smile. I moved carefully, each step measured, making myself as predictable as possible. Prison taught me how to move without threatening, how to exist in a space where sudden movements could get you shanked. Also taught me how to use my size to every advantage I could. Here, those same skills served a different purpose.
“Tiny, I’m glad you could make it,” Violet said, her voice warm but pitched just loud enough that others nearby could hear. Deliberate. Showing them I was expected and approved of. Safe.
“Knight asked me to check the security systems,” I replied, keeping my voice soft. When you’re my size, everything about you can intimidate, even your voice. Especially when there were young children around. It’s why I played Santa at Christmas. It helped the kids associate me with Santa so when they saw me out and about, they remembered. At least, that was my theory. It had worked pretty well last year, but the very nature of this place meant the kids didn’t stick around long. Though, I was pretty sure the old ladies had invited every mother and child who’d come through this place in the last year to the Christmas party.
As I headed to the back of the big room where the security office sat nestled off to itself, I noticed three new faces huddled on the worn sofa near the window. A woman in her mid to late twenties with light brown hair and hazel eyes sat in the corner with a book while the girls played quietly on the floor with LEGOs. All three glanced up as I neared the office door.
The girls, though they appeared to be twins, had very different stances. One with fists clenched, shoulders squared, stood to put herself slightly in front of her sister. The other girl reached for a threadbare stuffed rabbit with one missing eye, clutching it to her tightly.
I recognized the signs as clearly as if they’d been written in neon. The way the woman’s eyes darted to the exits, how she stood slowly, not making any sudden moves, to put herself between me and her daughters.
“This is Penny and her daughters, Zelda and Kira,” Violet said, gesturing toward them. “They arrived a few days ago. Penny, this is Tiny. He’s with the same club Riot’s with. They provide security for us here.”
I nodded once, not approaching. “Ma’am.”
The woman, Penny, gave me a tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was the smile of someone who’d learned to hide her true emotions.
“Tiny helps maintain our security system,” Violet continued, her voice still carrying that deliberate lightness. “And he sometimes escorts our residents when they need to go to appointments or court dates. Tiny is an amazing friend to have in those kinds of situations.”
“Yes,” Penny whispered. “I imagine he is.”
I thought Violet would move with me to the office where we could talk. Instead, she sat on the other end of the couch from Penny. There were two more couches in the area arranged in the shape of a U. Normally, I’d take a seat as far away from the women as I could, but I’d still be at a distinct height advantage even sitting down. So, I sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged with my back against the couch.
The change was immediate. I watched Penny’s shoulders relax. The girl unclenched her hands, giving me a curious look. From my position on the floor, I was still eye level with most people standing, but the psychological difference mattered.
“Knight and I updated the cameras last week,” I said to Violet, keeping the conversation normal, mundane. “But he thought one on the east side might have a small blind spot.”
Violet nodded, following my lead. “That’s the one near the service entrance, right? I noticed it seemed off when I checked the monitors yesterday.”
As we talked, I kept my peripheral vision on the small family. Though Zelda had relaxed somewhat, she still kept a wary gaze on me. Kira watched me with cautious curiosity now. She clutched her rabbit tighter, its worn fabric testament to years of comfort sought.
Then it happened. The rabbit slipped from her grasp, falling to the floor and bouncing once before settling a few feet from where I sat. The girl froze, eyes wide with alarm.
I didn’t move immediately. Instead, I telegraphed my intentions clearly. “Would you like me to get your friend for you, Kira?” My voice was soft as I addressed her directly.
The girl looked to her mother, who gave a barely perceptible nod. Only then did I slowly unfold one long arm, reaching for the toy. I kept my movements smooth and deliberate, picking it up with the gentlest grip I could manage.
I didn’t extend it toward her -- that would force her to come to me. Instead, I leaned over, stretching as far as I could, and placed the rabbit gently on the floor halfway between us, then returned to my original position.
“Thank you,” the woman, Penny, said when her daughter didn’t speak.
The moment crashed into me like a wave, dragging me back fifteen years. My sister Julie, sixteen and broken, flinching from every raised voice after what that bastard did to her. The way she’d curl into herself when men came near. The stuffed horse she’d kept since childhood that she clutched at night when she thought no one would see.
The same stuffed horse that had been torn to pieces the day I came home and found her hurt and half dead.
I blinked away the memory. That had been the worst night of my life. I think it hurt just as bad as when she died a few days later.
“Tiny’s road captain for the club. He also helps with security both here and at the clubhouse.” Violet spoke to Penny and her voice pulled me back to the present. “He’s been instrumental in setting up our security systems here.”
I shifted uncomfortably at the praise, my vest creaking again with the movement. I understood why Violet was doing it. These women needed to know I wasn’t a threat, but praise had never sat well with me. Not before prison, and certainly not after. “Just trying to help,” I mumbled, examining the tattoo on my forearm to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Tiny volunteers for most of the escort duties when our residents need to go to court,” Violet continued. “He’s been a huge help to many of the women who’ve passed through here.”
I glanced up to find Penny studying me with a careful gaze. Not fearful anymore, but assessing. I recognized that look too. She was recalculating, reshuffling whatever assumptions she’d made when I first walked in. No doubt because she knew Violet had a point. I was a big fucker. The intimidation factor alone was generally enough to keep unwanted people at a distance.
“Good to know.” Penny spoke softly, almost timidly. I got it and wasn’t insulted. I didn’t know their story, but to be here in the first place, there had to be some pretty horrific details.
The smaller girl had reclaimed her rabbit by now, holding it against her chest as she whispered something into its tattered ear. For just a moment, our eyes met, and I saw something there that squeezed my chest tight. Not fear, not anymore. Something closer to recognition.
I knew that feeling. The paradox of finding safety with someone who looked like they could crush you with one hand. I’d seen it in the eyes of younger inmates who gravitated toward me in Terre Haute, seeking protection in my shadow. It was a burden I carried willingly, both inside those walls and now here, in this shelter with its mismatched furniture and reinforced doors. I wasn’t an overly religious person, but I’d always felt God put me on this earth with my size and strength to be a protector. It had started with my sister. Now I did my best to continue as much as I could. It took a while, but I could usually prove that sometimes safety came in unexpected packages. Like a giant with a mohawk and prison tattoos, sitting cross-legged on the floor to avoid scaring a little girl and her stuffed rabbit.
That’s when I noticed the small movement at the edge of my vision. Kira, the girl I’d handed back her stuffie, had moved in my direction. The stuffed rabbit dangled from her hand as she took one cautious step in my direction, then another. Penny was distracted, talking with one of the shelter staff, but her sister had noticed. Zelda’s eyes narrowed and I could almost see the fierce protective instinct that sometimes rode me, too, envelop her. She stood but didn’t immediately hurry our way.
I remained perfectly still, not wanting to spook either of them. The girl’s approach reminded me of how stray cats would sometimes appear at the prison fences, wary and ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, but driven by some need stronger than fear. She stopped several feet away, her small fingers working nervously at the rabbit’s worn fabric. Up close, I could see the careful stitches where someone had repaired a seam, the worn spot where fur had been loved away. A well-tended comfort object. Someone cared enough to keep fixing it.
“His name is Mr. Hoppers,” she said, voice barely audible. The first words she’d spoken in my presence.
I nodded solemnly, giving the introduction the gravity it deserved. “Good name.”
She studied me with an intensity that belied her age. Not the fearful assessment I was used to, but something different. Searching. Her eyes tracked from my hands to my face, then back to my hands again.
“You have big hands,” she observed.
“Yes.”
“But you were careful with Mr. Hoppers.”
I understood then what she was doing. Testing a theory. “I try to be careful with things and people smaller than me.” I shook my head slowly. “I don’t like hurting people.”
Her head tilted slightly. “My dad has big hands too. But he breaks things.”
The simple statement hit me like a punch to the gut. I kept my expression even, though something hot and angry flared in my chest. “Some men don’t know how to be careful.”
She nodded as if I’d confirmed something important. Then, with deliberate care, she extended her arms, offering me the rabbit. The trust in that gesture staggered me. I held perfectly still, afraid that any movement might shatter this fragile moment. Then, with the same care I’d use handling a newborn, I accepted the offering, cradling the worn toy in palms that could crush a man’s skull.
“He likes you,” she said with the conviction of absolute certainty.
“I’m honored,” I replied, meaning it more than she could know.
That’s when I saw it, the recognition in her eyes. Not of me specifically, but of something in me that felt safe despite appearances. I’d seen the look often but this was the first time I could say someone making that judgment had the right of it. I could be deceptively calm. Until I wasn’t. But not with this girl. Or anyone here seeking shelter.
The moment stretched between us like a bridge, this strange connection forged in the quietest of gestures. I gently returned Mr. Hoppers to her waiting hands, and she clutched him close again, a half-smile ghosting across her face.
Then the spell broke when the very kind of man this little girl had been running from just walked into the Goddamned foyer.
“Let me in, you little bitches! I know she’s in there!” The male voice exploded from outside the main area but still inside the warehouse, followed by the sound of something hitting the front door hard enough to rattle the windows. I wasn’t certain how he’d gotten in but I knew at least two of the brothers wouldn’t be far behind him.
About the Author
Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.
Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts (which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.
Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15
Monday, December 15, 2025
Her Name Was Chas Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Contemporary LGBTQ Fiction, Lesbian Romance
Date Published: November 13,2025
The last place Chas Montgomery wants to be is in the damp basement of an
old church undergoing conversion therapy. But when her mother catches her
kissing her best friend Jess, that's exactly where she ends up.
Years later, “Chastity” is a model of the life her family always wanted for her: married to a man and devoted to her faith. She’s done everything “right” and put her old life behind her for good. Until she meets Alex.
Alex is confident, compassionate, and everything Chas never knew she needed. As their connection deepens, Chas begins to question the beliefs she was forced to live by. For the first time, she chooses herself—and a new life filled with authenticity, freedom, and love.
But when an unexpected pregnancy from her marriage threatens to unravel everything, Chas must confront her past to protect her future. Can she hold on to the life she’s building with Alex, or will fear, guilt, and unrelenting pressure pull her back into the shadows?
About the Author
SK Holt writes compelling contemporary gay romance that delves into the heart of modern relationships and identity. Her debut novel, Her Name Was Chas, is a tender and unforgettable story of finding love and self-discovery. A native of South Carolina, SK lives with her wife, their children, and a demanding trio of French bulldogs. When she isn't working, she can be found unwinding with her family by the ocean, her favorite spot for inspiration.
Purchase Link
The Road to Pienza Book Blast #GayBookPromotions
BOOK BLAST - RECENT RELEASE
Book Title: The Road to Pienza (The Road to Montepulciano #2)
Author and Cover Artist: Garrick Jones
Publisher: GRJ Press
Release Date: November 6, 2025
Genre: Crime Thriller
Themes: Historical fiction; Crime Fiction; Political Thriller; Action Thriller
Heat Rating: 5 flames
Length: 117 000 words/348 pages
It is part of a series, but does not end on a cliffhanger.
Buy links
Amazon US | Amazon AU | Amazon UK | B&N
The action-packed sequel to the best-selling thriller, The Road to Montepulciano
Blurb
The action-packed sequel to the best-selling thriller, The Road to Montepulciano
On the night of the ninth of June 1944, four days after the Allied liberation of Rome, four nuns are murdered in a railway carriage at the Vatican City railway station.
Sixteen years later, returning to Tuscany after a gruelling book signing tour of Australia, Damson O’Reilly finds his partner, Giancarlo (no longer a detective but now a well-known and successful lawyer) engrossed in a slander case between Italy’s screen heartthrob, Mario Celestino, and a high-profile, fascist industrialist, Giovanni Scavola.
The case uncovers buried secrets, secrets that bring to light the involvement of both men in the WW2 crime and which lead to kidnapping, torture and murder, culminating in a dramatic, bloody outcome that will rock the Italian nation to its core.
Excerpt
By the time I finished my turn in the bathroom, Kendall was naked, sitting up on top of the bed covers, so I perched on the edge of the mattress next to his knee and lit a cigarette.
“Come closer,” he said. By now, I recognised that look in his eye.
He ran his hand over my thigh and cupped my balls. I leaned back and moved my knees apart while he gently massaged my chest and stomach, his hand finally coming to rest, encircling the base of my by-now hard cock. “I like this,” he said, jiggling it a little.
“What about the rest of me?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s all right, too.” His accompanying cheeky wink made me grin.
“What you said earlier … I’m the only man who’s ever fucked you?”
“Yep.”
“Why me?”
“As I said, I like this.” He squeezed harder, milking my erection, then leaned over and licked the shiny drop of fluid from the eye of my cock with the tip of his tongue. “I’ve always liked looking at big ones, but yours is the first I’ve ever wanted inside me.”
“Kendall—”
He laughed, interrupting what I was going to say. “I’m not out to make trouble with you and Giancarlo. I really like him too. What we did in the hotel room in Sydney … I want more of that, and not just watching either.”
“Where on earth does this come from? You’ve always seemed rather standoffish to me, especially when it comes to talking about sex.”
“I dunno, Damson. Something just clicked between us that first night in Adelaide when I pretended to be drunk and asked you to suck me off.”
“You returned the favour, as I remember.”
“That’s right, and yours was the first cock I ever had in my mouth, and the first time I’d ever swallowed or even tasted spunk.”
“I’m confused.”
“I’m aware that I always skirt around my history—my sexual history, that is. You know that I’ve always been into sex with older women. Not sure why—I don’t remember my own mother, I was far too small when she died, so it can’t be that. Fooled around a bit in my teens with lads my own age; that happens at an all-boys’ boarding school. But then, when I joined up, I became fixated on what men had between their legs, especially the big ones, like yours. There was someone for a while, but all we did was swap tongues while we pulled each other off.”
“You’ve never seemed to want to swap tongues with me,” I said, by this time my legs wide apart and my erection almost purple because he’d been squeezing the base so tightly.
“Can we just be friends, Damson? I don’t want anything more than you as a close mate in my life. Of course, I still want to do this with you—and Giancarlo if that’s on the cards—but I’m not looking for a love affair. Is that all right with you?”
I closed my eyes for a moment. “That depends.”
“Depends on what?”
I wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him towards me. I guessed the kissing part of what he’d done with his army mate was something he really liked, because before I knew it, I was almost choking on his tongue after he’d nearly sucked mine out of my head. I pushed him onto his back on the bed. The kissing became more languid, sensuous, exploring. He guided my hand down to his balls, then raised his hips. I massaged the rim of his arsehole with my fingers.
“Aw, fuck,” he moaned into my mouth.
Damned if he wasn’t one of the best kissers I’d ever met. He didn’t even flinch a little bit as I eased my saliva-wetted dick into his body.
About the Author
From the outback to the opera.
After a thirty-year career as a professional opera singer, performing as a soloist in opera houses and in concert halls all over the world, I took up a position as lecturer in music in Australia in 1999, at the Central Queensland Conservatorium of Music, which is now part of CQ University.
Brought up in Australia, between the bush and the beaches of the Eastern suburbs, I retired in 2015 and now live in the tropics, writing, gardening, and finally finding time to enjoy life and to re-establish a connection with who I am after a very busy career on the stage and as an academic.
Author Links
Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
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Wings and Fangs Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
Urban Fantasy
Date Published: October 31, 2025
Never wanted to be a cop. Definitely didn't want to work for an agency that used to hunt monsters like me.
But when you're a wolf shifter who doesn't fit in your pack AND the daughter of an archangel's son? Your career options are... limited.
So I joined I.S.E.A. as one of their first supernatural agents. Figured I'd be dealing with easy cases forever.
Then the murders started.
Ritualistic. Brutal. All victims from Fenrir's bloodline…just like me.
Now my rookie partner Jada and I are racing to stop a cult that wants to trigger Ragnarök. They're sacrificing wolves to level up and take on the gods themselves.
Oh, and did I mention:
✨ Fenrir might be calling in my ancestor's debt
✨ My dad gave me his angelic war sword (she talks, it's annoying)
✨ A gorgeous Valkyrie keeps saving my life
✨ The fate of the world might rest on two rookies
No pressure, right?
WINGS AND FANGS is book one of the Supernatural Legacies trilogy—grittier, wittier, and more action-packed than ever. Meet Roxanne Crowfoot: wolf shifter, nephilim, and the agent who's about to save (or doom) us all.
About the Author
T.J. Deschamps writes stories with diverse characters and subversive themes, preferring flawed characters over the Chosen One types. She lives in the Seattle suburbs with her three semi-adult children, three cats, and a tortoise. Her hobbies include drinking copious amounts of coffee, reading, playing word games, lifting weights, gardening badly, and dancing.
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Saturday, December 13, 2025
Tinkle Tinkle Little One Book Blitz #rabtbooktours
ABCs to Potty Training
Children’s Book
Date Published:11/15/2025
Join Bella Jay as she learns her ABCs...from beginner potty training
steps to nighttime training to visits to Grandma and Grandpa. See the
alternate ending to Bella's Journey!
About the Author
DeCarol Jovanovic is a sleep advocate, entrepreneur, and mom of two. For more than 30 years, DeCarol has worked with children. During this time, she became certified as a newborn care specialist and developed a potty training song to encourage little boys and girls to pee on the potty.
Tinkle Tinkle Little One © has been sung by recording artists and little children around the globe. DeCarol is excited to share the Tinkle Tinkle Little One © song with parents and simple steps for using the potty with little boys and girls around the world.
DeCarol is a service disabled veteran who has served and deployed to overseas locations. DeCarol has worked in Okinawa, Japan, Saudi Arabia, and many locations in the USA. DeCarol completed undergraduate studies at University of Maryland University College (2005) and obtained a Master of Arts from Webster University (2008). DeCarol is also creator of “Don’t Wake the Baby” inspired signs.
Contact Link
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