Marteeka Karland – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Marteeka Karland – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Wed, 20 May 2026 17:50:21 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.1 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Marteeka Karland – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 Rip (Kiss of Death MC #14) Read Online Marteeka Karland http://www.wownovels.com/rip-kiss-of-death-mc-14-read-online-marteeka-karland Wed, 20 May 2026 17:50:21 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/rip-kiss-of-death-mc-14-read-online-marteeka-karland Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Insta-Love, MC Authors: Marteeka Karland Series: Kiss of Death MC Series by Marteeka Karland
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Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)

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She found her strength. I’ll makes sure no one takes it again.

Jade — I ran from a man who broke me, only to land in the arms of a biker who could destroy what little I have left. Rip is an alpha protector with a dangerous edge I can’t seem to resist. He sees too much, wants too much, and makes me crave things I swore I’d never risk again. He gives me the courage to believe in myself. When my past refuses to let me go, I know I can surrender or stand and fight. If my ex thinks he can take everything from me again, he’s about to learn exactly how wrong he is.

Rip — The first time I see Jade, she’s barely holding herself together, a trauma survivor trying to outrun a nightmare who won’t stay buried. She’s still fragile enough I know better than to push my way into her life, even when every instinct tells me to pull her close and never let her go. I don’t expect her to see me as anything more than a safe place. Whether I claim her or not, my MC brothers will lay down their lives for her. And when the smoke clears and the blood is washed away, Jade will know she was always meant to be mine. Forever.

Warning: adult themes including past thoughts of suicide, physical and psychological abuse, and child abuse, which may trigger some readers. Protective ex-con hero, HEA, as always, no cheating, no cliffhangers

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Jade

The soft, warm lighting in the small dining room did little to reassure me. I stared at my hands resting on the scarred wooden table, watching them tremble against my will. Three weeks at Haven, and my body still hadn’t gotten the message that I was safe now. Safe. What a strange word to apply to homelessness, to sitting in a communal room, surrounded by women who couldn’t meet my eyes because we all recognized the shame in each other’s faces.

I pulled down my sleeve to cover the faint, yellowing bruise on my wrist. My ribs still throbbed with a dull persistent ache that no amount of ibuprofen could completely relieve. The pain was almost comforting -- a reminder that I hadn’t imagined it all, that I wasn’t crazy. My fingers brushed against my cheekbone, the swelling finally gone but the discoloration still visible beneath the concealer I’d carefully applied that morning.

A little boy, maybe five or six, darted past me chasing after his sister, both of them laughing. Their mother called after them in a hushed voice. All the women here spoke quietly most of the time, as if normal volume might shatter whatever fragile peace we’d found. Or too afraid our respite would end in violence once again. I watched them without trying to seem like I was watching. Their mother had dark circles under her eyes, but she smiled when she caught them, tickled them until they squealed.

I looked away. There was an intimacy to their bond that felt invasive to witness, like I was trespassing on something precious. I didn’t belong here, among these women who’d fled with children, with purpose. What did I have? A business degree I’d never used, a dried-up marketing career, and a suitcase only half full of clothes I’d grabbed while Eric was at work. No kids. No friends left. Just bruises and tremors and the growing realization that I had nowhere else to go.

“Jade? Do you have a moment?”

I looked up to see Ada approaching, a clipboard tucked under her arm and a sympathetic smile on her face. Since I’d come here, I’d learned that every woman from that club Mia’s new man belonged to volunteered at this place. The men guarded Haven but never made the residents feel smothered. In fact, I only saw them occasionally. Everyone here cared. Probably too much sometimes. I saw the people who came through here. Everyone had a sob story and most of them were horrific. By comparison, I’d had it pretty easy.

“Of course,” I said, straightening my posture automatically.

Ada slid into the chair opposite me and placed the clipboard on the table between us. “Your thirty-day evaluation period ends this weekend,” she said, her voice soft. “I have your extension paperwork here. I hate that we have to do shit like this, but it gets us money for supplies.” She smiled.

My heart stuttered. I hadn’t realized how terrified I was of her saying anything else until the relief flooded through me. “Yes,” I said too quickly, then bit my lip. “I mean, if that’s OK. I’m still working on… figuring things out.” I had to force myself not to wring my hands. I didn’t used to be like this. I didn’t want to be like this now.

Ada pushed the clipboard toward me. “That’s what we’re here for. I just need your signature.”

I picked up the pen, my fingers trembling. I gripped it tighter, trying to control the shake as I signed my name. Ada watched without commenting on my obvious anxiety. She was good at that -- giving people dignity even when they were falling apart.

“Thank you,” she said, taking back the clipboard. “The extension is for another sixty days. After that, we’ll reassess.”

I tried to smile but couldn’t quite commit. I knew how pathetic I looked by not getting back in the game of life, but the thought of trying to explain the abrupt departure from my previous job, of interviewing with visible bruises, of having to be around strange men who might remind me of Eric, could send me into a panic attack.

“Jade, honey? You OK?”

I glanced up at Ada when she spoke. Short answer? No. I wasn’t OK. Better answer? “Fine,” I said. “Just tired.”

Her eyes softened with understanding that made me want to crawl under the table. “There’s a resume workshop on Thursday. No pressure, but it might help to interact with others. And group therapy tomorrow at four is open to everyone.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “There’s no rush, you know. I’m checking boxes because it’s required. You take as much time as you need. We call this place Haven for a reason.”

When she left, I let my shoulders slump, exhausted by the brief interaction. Across the room, a woman about my age was showing her daughter how to braid string into a friendship bracelet. Another was helping her son with what looked like math homework. I’d wanted that once. A family. To be all domesticated and stuff.

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Knight (Kiss of Death MC #12) Read Online Marteeka Karland http://www.wownovels.com/knight-kiss-of-death-mc-12-read-online-marteeka-karland Thu, 23 Apr 2026 22:52:49 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/knight-kiss-of-death-mc-12-read-online-marteeka-karland Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Marteeka Karland Series: Kiss of Death MC Series by Marteeka Karland
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Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >62

I thought my past buried until I learned I have a critically ill daughter. Only I can save her life.

Knight — I just found out I have a daughter. Brynn. Walking back into Lavender’s world forces me to face the woman I never stopped loving and the child I failed before I ever knew her. The system doesn’t care that I’ve changed, and powerful men are willing to sacrifice Brynn’s future for their own gain. I will not let that happen. I will give my little girl my kidney without hesitation, and I will fight anyone who stands in our way. Redemption is not guaranteed, but this time I’m staying.

Lavender — For eleven years, it was just the two of us, me and my daughter. Now she needs a kidney transplant, and I’m forced to find the man who walked out on us. Rhys is no longer the man I loved. He’s harder, dangerous, and bound to a motorcycle club I don’t trust. I won’t forgive him, and I don’t want to need him. But when becomes collateral damage, Rhys proves he won’t walk away again. Letting him back into our lives could cost me everything, but losing him after this would cost even more

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Knight

A month ago, I had my life figured out. The people in Kiss of Death MC had become my brothers and sisters. They’d all had my back, in prison and out. The club represented the entirety of my loyalty. My life.

A month ago.

I’d been staring at this Goddamned email since I’d found it. I’d opened it. Read it. Then promptly vomited. I’d told Ada and she’d been excited, but the longer I thought about it, the more dread settled in the pit of my stomach.

As with most nights since I’d gotten the email, I sat staring at the screen. Just… reading the words over and over and trying to make sense of them. My eyes burned from the blue glow of the screen.

The hit came back as “close relative/first cousin.” Given the DNA Ada sent in was hers, I had very little doubt this child was my daughter.

Brynn Leahy. Brynn. The name Lavender and I had picked out right after her senior year of high school. Then later. The night I’d gotten arrested. She’d asked me about the name Brynn for a baby’s name. Looking back, after Ada had voiced her suspicions, Lavender might have been going to tell me then. We’d been interrupted by the feds, of course. Because I’d gotten greedy and stupid. Lavender had even given the child my last name instead of hers. I knew Lavender. We’d spent a good deal of our lives together. Practically grown up together, though I was six years older than she was.

She’d had a hopeless crush on me my junior year of high school. She’d been in the fifth grade. Even though I’d started out being amused by her, she’d quickly grown on me. I’d thought of her as an adored little sister. Right up until I’d come back from college after getting my masters in economics -- just in time for her to ask me to her senior prom.

I never even contemplated telling her no. Never occurred to me. Just got the day and time she wanted me to pick her up, rented a tux, bought her flowers, and showed up in a limo. No way she was getting anything but the best.

I’d swaggered to her door. I hadn’t been heavily muscled or anything, but I knew I was good looking. I also knew that bringing an older date to her prom would make her friends envious. Then she’d opened the fucking door…

And I literally fell to my knees on her front porch. I’d begged her to marry me on the spot. She’d thought I was playing a bit, being dramatic to make her smile. What she didn’t find out for two solid years was I’d been totally serious. We’d kept in touch while I’d been away at school, but I’d never seen her in anything other than jeans and a T-shirt. The slinky formal dress she’d donned had me wanting to keep her covered and at the same time show her off so everyone knew the goddess in the room belonged to me.

Memories sliced through my brain painfully. Lavender had been the one person in the world I wanted to protect with everything I had. Still did. Apparently, I’d fucked up twice. First when I decided I could make enough money to set us up for life sooner rather than later and got caught. Then when I’d basically told her to get lost and that I never wanted to see her again. And I wasn’t nice about it.

“Fuck,” I whispered to the empty room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I pushed back from the desk, the chair legs scraping against concrete. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead and ran down my spine. Brynn. Brynn existed. Brynn lived and breathed in this world. Brynn. My daughter.

The word felt foreign, impossible.

Outside, the compound hummed with night activity. Music thumped dully from the clubhouse. Engines roared as brothers returned from whatever jobs had kept them out past midnight. Normal sounds. My life since I’d gotten out of prison.

I dragged my hands down my face, feeling the rough scratch of stubble. How old would Brynn be now? Eleven? Christ. A whole person, a part of Lavender and me. And I’d missed every Goddamned second of her growing up. I’d basically left Lavender to fend for herself. She’d been a foster kid and on her own the second she’d turned eighteen. I hadn’t wanted her to have the life she’d already lost out on. I wanted her to have a better life. That didn’t include an ex-con for a husband. But I’d panicked. I hadn’t wanted any blowback to hit Lavender. Looking back, I could see how big a fucking coward I’d been.

I moved to the tiny window overlooking the compound. These men trusted me with their lives. Just like I trusted them. I’d carved a new life out for myself here. Become someone completely different. Lavender would never recognize me, and I seriously doubted she’d like the man I’d become.

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Jag (Kiss of Death MC #11) Read Online Marteeka Karland http://www.wownovels.com/jag-kiss-of-death-mc-11-read-online-marteeka-karland Sat, 28 Feb 2026 17:33:29 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/jag-kiss-of-death-mc-11-read-online-marteeka-karland Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Insta-Love, MC Authors: Marteeka Karland Series: Kiss of Death MC Series by Marteeka Karland
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Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >52

Spending more than half my life in prison taught me how to survive, not how to live.

Jag — I took the fall for my club once and it cost me everything. Freedom doesn’t feel like freedom when your past is still hunting you. Kiss of Death MC is different now. Safer. Smarter. And full of things I don’t trust. Like kindness, loyalty, and Ada. She sees too much. Asks the hard questions. And somehow makes me want things I buried a long time ago. Wanting her is dangerous. Touching her could destroy us both. But when an old enemy resurfaces and targets her to get to the club, walking away isn’t an option. I’ll protect her. Even if it costs me everything… again.

Ada — I know the difference between monsters and men who’ve survived hell. Jag Kross is the most dangerous man I’ve ever met. And the most broken. He doesn’t want saving. He doesn’t believe he deserves love. And he definitely doesn’t want me anywhere near his darkness. Too bad. When someone starts watching me, following me, threatening everything the club protects, Jag becomes my shadow. My shield. My temptation. He says he’s not a good man. I say he’s exactly the one I want. I’m not afraid of the scars he carries. I’m afraid of what happens if he leaves

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Jag

The gates of USP Terre Haute swung open with a mechanical groan that I’d heard a thousand times from the other side. This time, I was walking out.

The guard shoved a manila envelope into my hands without meeting my eyes. “Use your prison ID until you get your state issued ID. Inside the envelope you’ll find your release papers and a debit card with two hundred dollars on the account. I was informed you didn’t need a ride.” He finally looked up at me, bored, and raised an eyebrow in question. When I didn’t answer, he shifted his weight with a huff. “Well?”

“Was there a question?”

“Do you have a fuckin’ ride or not, buddy?” He slapped a piece of paper down in front of me.

“What’s this?” I asked, nodding to the form.

He slapped a pen down on top of the paper. “Says you understand the terms of your release supervision and that failure to comply can, and likely will, result in an extended stay in the Hilton back here.” He hiked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the prison.

Instead of answering him, I picked up the pen and signed my name at the bottom across the highlighted line. “Anything else?”

When the guy shook his head, I stormed by him, pushing my way out the door. I had no idea if Knuckles had followed through with his promise to have guys waiting on me when I got out. I hadn’t called him, but he’d told me I wouldn’t have to. When I was released, there would be a couple of brothers from Kiss of Death to offer me a ride back to Nashville, if I wanted to go. I hadn’t really been sure if I’d take him up on the offer even if he did actually show, but when the prison asked me where I planned on setting up residence, I’d told them Nashville.

I stepped across the threshold, the highly recognizable line between captivity and freedom in the form of a smaller gate through a big-ass fucking prison gate. I squinted against the natural light. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, then relaxed.

Nothing happened.

“Expecting the air outside the yard to smell different than it did inside the yard?” The guy had one elbow resting on the open window of a black F-150 in the slot two spaces over. Another, a truly massive man, rested against the bed of the truck next to the first guy, like they’d just been having a chat. He’d crossed his legs at the ankles and his arms over his chest, his pose casual.

“Jag?” the giant asked. “I’m Tiny. This is Rancor.” He was soft-spoken, his voice a gruff rumble.

I nodded once, acknowledging but not inviting further conversation.

“Ready to roll?” Tiny asked, gaze friendly.

I shrugged and nodded again, fingers digging into my palms, the sharp pain grounding me.

Tiny straightened. “Front or backseat, man?”

“Back.”

Tiny nodded respectfully, obviously expecting my choice since Rancor hadn’t offered to move. He climbed behind the wheel while I opened the back passenger-side door. I tossed the small bag holding my few possessions across the seat to the far side of the vehicle. Sitting behind the passenger left Rancor with a huge blind spot. While the driver could still watch me, he needed to watch the road, too. I didn’t think these guys meant me harm, but I also wasn’t going to get shanked my first hour out of prison.

The interior of the truck smelled like leather and tobacco. Clean. No blood. No piss. No sweat. No puke. Definitely nice for a change.

The rumble vibrated through the seat and into my bones, a foreign sensation after years of concrete and steel. Of all the things I’d missed in prison, I’d missed riding my bike the most. I’d been away for thirty-seven years. My bike had probably long since been sold off.

As we pulled away, I allowed myself one last glance at the prison. The limestone walls and razor wire had been my entire world. I’d learned to kill there. I’d learned to survive there. I’d forgotten how to live anywhere else.

Tiny met my eyes briefly in the rearview mirror. “Long ride to Nashville.” He handed me something I recognized as some kind of smart phone. I’d never held one, but I’d seen them on TV, watched as people used them in commercials or movies, when I’d been allowed to watch movies. A few of the guards didn’t bother with the “no phones out of the locker rooms” policy.

“Scroll through.” He used his finger to drag the screen upward, revealing more. Yeah, I’d seen that before from some of the guards. “It’s my social media feed. I set it to show articles you might be interested in about Nashville. I like to call it my ‘Long-Term Incarcerated’s Guide to the New World.’” I took the phone from him. “It gives you some information about our club, the shelter we help fund and protect, as well as terms you might not be familiar with. A bunch of the guys got together, at our old ladies’ insistence, and made a list of things hardest for them to adjust to when reentering society.” He shrugged. “Some of the guys found it helpful. Including me.”

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Blood & Valentines – 14 Days of Love and Lust Bikers & Mobsters Read Online Marteeka Karland http://www.wownovels.com/blood-valentines-14-days-of-love-and-lust-bikers-mobsters-read-online-marteeka-karland Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:21:25 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/blood-valentines-14-days-of-love-and-lust-bikers-mobsters-read-online-marteeka-karland Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Marteeka Karland Advertisement

Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 66480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >73

Wren
I live inside an outlaw motorcycle club filled with ex-cons where loyalty is survival and weakness gets you killed. As the adopted daughter of the Bound in Blood MC Vice President, I’m protected, watched, and expected to follow the rules. The Bloody Valentine’s Ball is supposed to be neutral ground. One night where rival biker clubs play nice and nothing explodes. Then Rocky walks in. He’s dangerous, guarded, and doesn’t wear MC colors. His stare feels like a challenge, not a threat. I know better than to trust a stranger in a biker bar, especially one who watches me like he already knows my secrets. But forbidden attraction doesn’t care about rules. And neither do I.

Rocky
I’m undercover in a violent motorcycle club, hunting information that could get me killed if my identity is exposed. Wren Sullivan was never part of the plan. She’s sharp, fearless, and armed in more ways than one. A strong heroine raised in an outlaw world who sees through lies faster than I can tell them. Getting close to her risks everything. The mission. My cover. My life. Walking away isn’t an option. Because when danger closes in, she’s the one person worth betraying everyone else to protect. What starts as one night of dangerous attraction turns into something darker and far more lethal. Secrets, violence, and forbidden desire collide as loyalties are tested and blood is spilled. In a world of morally gray biker codes, brutal consequences, and outlaw justice, love isn’t safe. And sometimes, it comes with a body count.

Blood & Valentines is a dark MC romance featuring dual POV, a fierce heroine, a possessive alpha hero, forbidden attraction, undercover secrets, found family, and high-heat romance set inside a gritty outlaw motorcycle club world

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Wren

Irolled into the packed lot of Outlaw's Rest, my purple hair whipping against my face as I cut the engine of the Harley my dad had given me a few months after I’d turned eighteen. The night air carried the familiar mix of exhaust fumes, cigarettes, and, likely, trouble. Bikes from every club within a hundred miles crowded the pavement, chrome glinting under the parking lot lights, patches and colors announcing allegiances that normally kept to their own territory. But tonight was different. Tonight was the Bloody Valentine's Ball, the one night a year when colors didn't matter quite so much and everyone tried to behave. At least, mostly everyone tried to behave. There always had to be one idiot.

My combat boots crunched on the gravel as I swung my leg off my Harley, adjusting the hem of my black dress. The thing was tight over my ass and the uneven hem had a slit up to my hip. The top stretched over my breasts showing as much cleavage as I’d been able to manage in the deep neckline, while the long sleeves molded my arms. Over the whole ensemble I wore my club vest which declared I was club property. Not my usual style, but the old ladies had rules about the Valentine's Ball, and showing up in jeans meant cleaning the bathrooms for a month. I'd learned that lesson last year.

"Damn, girl," called a gruff voice from the entrance. A newer prospect from the Road Demons leaned against the doorframe, his massive build intimidating. Likely the reason the Road Demons took him in. I couldn’t remember his name but the man had been trying to get me to hook up with him for a solid month and his constant presence whenever I came to Outlaw’s Rest was anything but restful. I was getting fed up with the bastard. "Ghost know you're out dressed like that?"

I flipped him off as I walked by. "Ghost taught me how to gut a man with a hunting knife. Pretty sure he's not worried about my hemline." The aforementioned hunting knife was strapped to my thigh, peeking out from my skirt with every step.

The guy scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Fair enough."

The transformation inside hit me like a slap. Outlaw's Rest was the grimiest bar in three counties on a normal day, all dark wood soaked in decades of whiskey. But tonight, it looked like Valentine's Day had thrown up all over the place. Red and black streamers hung from the ceiling, tables were covered with dark tablecloths and centerpieces made of roses wrapped in actual barbed wire. Someone had even mounted MC patches inside heart-shaped frames along the walls.

"Jesus fuckin’ Christ," I muttered, taking it all in.

"Blasphemy in my presence?" came a smoky female voice. Mama Connie, Old Lady to the president of the Shadow Wolves, appeared at my elbow with a tray of shot glasses. Her leather vest was covered with patches that told stories I didn't want to know the endings to. "Take a shot and ask forgiveness, Wren."

I chuckled, grabbing a glass and tossing it back, the whiskey burning familiar fire down my throat. "Place looks... festive."

"Men think we just wanna play house," Connie said with a wicked smile that cracked the wrinkles around her eyes. "Truth is, we love watching them squirm when they have to drink beer surrounded by hearts and flowers."

"They draw the line at glitter though," I said, remembering last year's argument.

"For now." Her eyes gleamed. "We're wearing them down. By next year, those bastards will be pissing sparkles."

I laughed and made my way toward the bar, nodding at familiar faces from Bound in Blood and other friendly clubs. The bartender, a burly guy with more tattoos than visible skin, slid a whiskey toward me before I even ordered.

"Ghost's kid," he said with a nod of recognition. Not a question. Though it cramped my temporary style terribly, I wore my club colors proudly. I didn’t need to be a patched member of Bound in Blood or anything, they considered me “club property” by virtue of being the VP’s adopted daughter. The vest provided protection at an event like this. While normally safe, outlaw biker bars could turn on a dime. Said so right in the name.

"That's me." I knocked back half the drink, the label a lot better than what they usually served. Another Valentine's Ball perk. "He here yet?"

"Nah. But Jack's in the back with some of the officers."

I felt a presence at my elbow and turned to find a young guy in a Bound in Blood prospect cut, looking like he might piss himself.

"Uh, Wren? I'm Decker. New prospect. Wanted to introduce myself, ma'am."

I arched an eyebrow. "First, don't call me ma'am unless you want me to break your nose. Second, stop looking at my tits before Ghost notices and makes you eat your own fingers."

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Rancor (Kiss of Death MC #10) Read Online Marteeka Karland http://www.wownovels.com/rancor-kiss-of-death-mc-10-read-online-marteeka-karland Sun, 01 Feb 2026 09:23:48 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/rancor-kiss-of-death-mc-10-read-online-marteeka-karland Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, Insta-Love, MC Authors: Marteeka Karland Series: Kiss of Death MC Series by Marteeka Karland
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Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >58

A broken man, a wary woman, and a past that wants blood -- love has never been more dangerous.

Cora -- Survival is my full-time job. Delivering groceries to the Kiss of Death MC should’ve been just another stop… until Rancor stepped out of the shadows and looked at me like he already knew my secrets. His quiet strength is wrapped in scars and heat. He’s the kind of man who could break the world but touches me like I’m the only soft thing he’s got left. I should run. Instead, I keep driving through those gates, craving the one man who makes me feel safe in ways I don’t dare say out loud.

Rancor -- I buried my heart years ago. Grief, violence, and prison killed anything left inside me, and I was glad. It meant I didn’t have to feel anything. Then Cora walked into the compound and cracked me open with a single glance. She’s brave without meaning to be, a storm in a small frame, and the first woman to make me feel anything since the night my life ended. One touch, and I knew I’d protect her with my last breath. One kiss and I knew I’d kill for her. I’ve already lost too much to lose her, too. Especially not to the same family who already ruined my life.

Copyright All Changeling Press LLC publications and cover art are copyright and may not be used in any AI generated work. No AI content is included or allowed in any Changeling Press LLC publication or artwork

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Cora

The gates of the Kiss of Death MC compound loomed ahead, iron and rust and threat. I knew the place was called Kiss of Death because there was a big-ass sign on the gate. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel of my beat-up sedan. No one wanted to deliver here, and for good reason. My second delivery here felt even worse.

The first time I could blame on ignorance, on not knowing better. This time I drove through those gates with full knowledge of what waited inside. At least, I hoped I did. The people inside these gates had been nothing but kind to me. Tipped well, too. I still found it hard to let my guard down in a place literally named Kiss of Death.

The sedan’s engine coughed as I pressed the accelerator. The sound seemed too loud, even in a place that could get noisy. The rumble of a bike starting up had me jumping. As the guy caught sight of me, he froze and shut down the bike. Next thing I knew he was rolling backward, pushing the bike with his feet until he returned to the inside of the garage. I rolled forward, past the gates.

Camo netting stretched between the buildings, creating shadows in the afternoon light. The warehouses formed a perfect square with some kind of military precision in the architecture. If I didn’t need the money, I definitely wouldn’t be here.

The main building rose ahead. I’d been directed there last time, so I aimed for the same spot. I thought about the envelope from my first delivery. Cash, all of it, with a tip that equaled half the order total. That money had bought groceries for a week, gas for two. It had been the difference between making rent on time and asking my landlord for another extension I wouldn’t get.

The parking area materialized ahead. I pulled in next to a row of motorcycles, their chrome catching the filtered light through the netting. My sedan looked all kinds of wrong among them.

I shifted into park and killed the engine. The silence felt worse than the noise. Now I could hear everything. Distant music from somewhere inside the compound. Male voices, laughing. It all sounded so normal I wanted to laugh at myself. Obviously they’d been grateful to get someone to deliver here and had treated me well. The phone app tracked my movements, kind of like a safeguard, so I really had little to worry about. I hoped.

My fingers fumbled with the door handle. Metal, cold against my palm. I pushed it open and the hinges squeaked, announcing my presence to anyone within earshot. The air outside tasted different than in my car. Heavier. It carried scents I couldn’t identify; motor oil and something sharp underneath, something that made my lizard brain want to run.

Movement from the clubhouse caught my eye. Hannah bounded out waving as she hurried to me. She’d been the one to meet me last time.

She hurried toward me with an easy confidence and a bright, genuine smile I envied. Her dark hair caught the filtered light, pulled back from her face in a way that revealed high cheekbones and striking hazel eyes. She wore jeans and a simple T-shirt, and a black leather vest. I’d noticed last time the vest was similar to her husband’s, though the back proclaimed her as “Property of Knuckles” where his simply said “Kiss of Death MC” and “Nashville, TN”. It sounded barbaric, but this woman didn’t seem oppressed in any way. In fact, when I met her the last time, her husband had dropped a kiss on top of her head as he’d passed her and hadn’t let Hannah carry anything from the car.

I raised a hand in an awkward wave, immediately feeling stupid for the gesture. But Hannah’s expression softened further, and she picked up her pace. I moved to the back of my car and lifted the trunk lid, ready to help her unload.

“You came back.” Hannah’s voice held a warm welcome that seemed impossible in this place. She stopped a few feet from my car, close enough to be friendly but far enough to respect boundaries. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“The order came through.” I tried to keep my voice steady, professional. “Same as last time.”

“And you accepted it.” Something shifted in her expression, a subtle approval that made me stand a little straighter. “Most drivers reject anything with our address. The guys haven’t done anything, but this many ex-cons in one place makes people nervous, I guess.” She frowned. “People tend to overlook the good they do. Not everyone guilty of bad things is a bad person.”

I tilted my head to the side. “You know, I never thought about it that way. But you’re right. I shouldn’t judge people unless they give me reason to.” I looked away, suddenly ashamed of myself. “I’d be in a world of hurt if people judged me by what they saw on the surface.”

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Tiny (Kiss of Death MC #9) Read Online Marteeka Karland http://www.wownovels.com/tiny-kiss-of-death-mc-9-read-online-marteeka-karland Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:40:35 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/tiny-kiss-of-death-mc-9-read-online-marteeka-karland Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Marteeka Karland Series: Kiss of Death MC Series by Marteeka Karland
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Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >66

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 safe. Can be read as a standalone in the Kiss of Death MC series.

Depictions of domestic abuse, violence, and strong language may be triggers for some readers. Reader discretion is advised.Copyright All Changeling Press LLC publications and cover art are copyright and may not be used in any AI generated work. No AI content is included or allowed in any Changeling Press LLC publication or artwork

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Tiny

Three years ago

I hunched over my beer in the corner of Throttle, trying to make my nearly seven-foot frame smaller in the wooden chair that creaked beneath my weight. The celebration swirled around me, brothers from the Kiss of Death MC shouting, drinking, and partying. All supposedly for me, but it felt like sandpaper against my frayed nerves. Fifteen years inside made noise hit differently. Made everything hit differently. The smoke hung thick enough to taste, mingling with spilled whiskey and the sweat of too many bodies packed into too small a space. Some of that I was used to, but it was still different. A bar in Nashville, Tennessee was a far cry from the barracks back in Terre Haute Prison. I ran my fingers down my long, thick beard, braided tight like a Viking’s, and I kept my eyes down. Freedom was supposed to feel good. This just felt like drowning in a different kind of cell.

Someone raised a glass, shouted my road name. “To Tiny! Back where he belongs!”

The irony wasn’t lost on me. Nothing tiny about me except the name they gave me when I first prospected, back when I was just a ridiculously tall kid with too much bulk and not enough sense. I nodded at the toast, took a swallow that burned all the way down, and wished again for the quiet of my cell. At least there, nobody expected me to smile.

A door clanged somewhere in the bar, and I flinched. The sound shot me straight back to Terre Haute as if I were still there. Time had seemed to stretch out like a road with no end until one day they let me out. Something about good behavior and being a model prisoner. As if fifteen years of keeping my head down could erase what I’d done.

I didn’t regret killing the bastard. Not one fucking bit. The memory of my sister’s face when I found her so bruised and bleeding, that animal on top of her. The way his skull felt beneath my hands. The sound it made when it broke. Some men needed killin’.

“You look like you’d rather be facing a firing squad than a homecoming.”

I looked up. Knight sat across from me, sliding into the chair. His voice was smooth as honey, nothing like you’d expect looking at him. Tattoos covered nearly every inch of visible skin -- his face, his neck, his hands. Even the whites of his eyes looked colored in, giving him an otherworldly appearance in the dim bar light. But his smile was genuine, and of all my brothers, he was the one who might understand.

“Too much,” I said simply, gesturing vaguely at the noise around us.

Knight nodded. “Takes time to decompress. Took me months after my three-year bit, and that was nothing compared to what you did.” He kept his voice low, meant just for me. “Nobody expects you to be right as rain, brother. Xavier said to drink a few for him. Knuckles has him helping with something at Terre Haute. He should be out in six months tops.”

“I didn’t see him before I left. No one said he was comin’ in. I could have stayed.”

“Which is why we didn’t tell you. Knuckles wanted you out of prison, so here you are. He wasn’t expecting to send Xave in before you got out, but the timeline got moved up.”

I took another drink. “How’s it work out there now? World’s different.”

“Smartphones everywhere. Internet’s in everything. People take pictures of their food before they eat it.” Knight’s mouth quirked up. “But people don’t change much. Still want the same things. Still hurt each other the same ways.”

I thought about that. “Club changed?”

“Yeah. Things are stable and strong since Knuckles took over. We’ve been working closely with the Miles family. Guy’s a real hardass, but he’s fair. And we don’t hurt innocents.” He grinned. “We’ve been working with a judge and a lawyer in the city to bring Knuckles’ people here. He said he wasn’t risking the place going back to the way it was when Slash was alive.” As intelligence officer, Knight’s cyber skills kept us ahead of both law enforcement and rivals. No doubt he used those skills in helping to funnel the right people in our direction.

“Heard you were the one who found the loophole in my case. Got me out early.” The words felt inadequate for the gratitude I felt.

Knight shrugged. “You did the work. All those GED programs you ran inside, the mentoring. I just made sure the right people saw the right paperwork.”

A commotion near the bar pulled my attention. A drunk in a business suit, out of place in this bar, had his hand wrapped around a female server’s wrist. She was trying to pull away, her face a mask of practiced patience cracking around the edges.

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The Boss’s Christmas Belle – Bikers and Mobsters Read Online Marteeka Karland http://www.wownovels.com/the-bosss-christmas-belle-bikers-and-mobsters-read-online-marteeka-karland Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:03:44 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-bosss-christmas-belle-bikers-and-mobsters-read-online-marteeka-karland Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Mafia, MC Authors: Marteeka Karland Series: Series by Marteeka Karland
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Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >73

Part of 25 Days of Bikers & Mobsters Belle
I came to The Gray looking for a fresh start—a paycheck, not a fairy tale. But the night I crash into Dario Luca, everything changes.
He’s power wrapped in a tailored suit. Cold eyes, dangerous smile, the kind of man who makes rules… and breaks them.
I should have walked away after spilling six thousand dollars’ worth of whiskey at his feet. Instead, he knelt beside me—hands steady, voice low, eyes burning.
Now he’s everywhere. Watching. Protecting. Tempting.
And when he says my name, it sounds like a promise I know will ruin me.

Dario
I don’t do distractions. Not when my enemies are moving against me, not when I’ve built an empire on control and fear.
Then she crashed into my world—innocent eyes, trembling hands, a mouth made for sin.
Belle doesn’t belong here. Not in my club. Not in my bed.
But I can’t stop wanting her.
And if the price of keeping her safe is blood on my hands this Christmas…
Then I’ll paint the snow red and call it a gift.This spicy Christmas romance blends dark obsession, redemption, and forbidden desire into a story of love that cuts as deep as it heals.

If you love age gap romance, morally gray heroes, and holiday heat with heart, you’ll fall for The Boss’s Christmas Belle

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Belle

I clutched my bag against my chest as I approached The Gray for my first shift, the weight of my uniform inside a tangible reminder of what this job meant. If I was careful and did a good job, I’d have stability, regular income, maybe even the chance to put a little aside each month. If I could build a small nest egg, I could make a down payment on a little house in the country. My dreams were simple. But it all started tonight.

My steps quickened across the pavement, heart fluttering with equal parts excitement and terror. This wasn't just any nightclub. The Gray bore the title of most exclusive spot in the city, where the powerful and wealthy played their private games like a badge of honor. And somehow, miraculously, they'd hired me. If rumors were to be believed, the tips alone at this place could make my life considerately less shitty.

The beautifully restored 1920s bank building that was The Gray loomed before me, its limestone facade gleaming in the fading evening light. I slowed my pace, momentarily transfixed. Massive marble columns flanked the main entrance, their surfaces veined with subtle gray that caught the amber glow of nearby streetlights. Gold leaf detailing traced intricate patterns around the doorways and windows, glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.

I'd never worked anywhere so grand. My resume was a patchwork of dive bars and casual restaurants, places where spilled beer was mopped up with yesterday's bar towels and tips were counted in change, not twenties. This place was different. Even the air felt expensive, as if each breath cost more than I'd make in an hour.

What caught my eye next made me stop entirely. The entrance to the club proper was an actual bank vault door. The massive, circular door gleamed with polished brass. It stood partially open, revealing glimpses of crystal and velvet beyond.

I tore my gaze away to glance at my watch. Crap. I needed to get inside before I was late for my first day. I hurried toward the smaller side entrance marked "Staff Only." I quickened my pace, mentally reviewing the contents of my bag, trying to think of anything I’d missed in my anxiety. I carried my uniform in a protective bag. My bag held hair ties, makeup for touch-ups, and my work shoes.

I was so focused on my mental checklist, I didn't notice the man in my way until I slammed into him full force. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, like hitting a wall of warm marble. My bag flew from my hands, contents spilling across the pavement in a humiliating display.

Strong hands gripped my upper arms, steadying me before I could stumble backward. I looked up, an apology already forming on my lips, and the words died in my throat. The man before me was tall with broad shoulders, impeccably dressed in a suit that even I could tell cost more than my month's rent. Probably a lot more. But it was his eyes that paralyzed me. Dark, calculating, and cold as northern lakes in winter, his gaze held mine like a cobra. An expensive haircut and neatly trimmed beard fit right in with the expensive clothing, watch, and rings. His salt-and-pepper hair only added to his air of authority. When he frowned down at me, his mouth set in a hard, disapproving line, my mouth went dry.

"I'm so sorry," I finally managed, my voice sounding small and breathless. "I wasn't looking where—"

"Clearly," he said, his voice deep and controlled, yet somehow softer than I'd expected.

My gaze clashed with his and a flush crept up my neck and bloomed across my cheeks, the heat of embarrassment scalding. The man was gorgeous. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed but those piercing blue eyes seemed to see straight through to my very soul. My heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to escape. He still gripped my shoulders, the hold was firm but gentle.

"My first day," I babbled, gesturing helplessly at my scattered belongings. "I was nervous and the building is so… A-and I was worried about being late and…" I forced myself to stop talking, painfully aware that I’d begun to tremble.

To my surprise, he knelt down and began gathering my things. I dropped to my knees beside him, reaching for my uniform that had partially unfolded on the concrete.

"Not the best start to your employment at The Gray," he remarked, his tone unreadable as he collected my lipstick and compact.

"No, not exactly the professional first impression I was hoping to make," I admitted, trying for a smile that felt wobbly on my lips.

Our hands moved across the pavement, collecting the scattered items. When we both reached for my employee handbook at the same time, our fingers brushed. The contact was brief, nothing more than skin against skin for a fraction of a second, but I felt it like an electric current zipping up my arm and spreading across my chest. I jerked back slightly, confused by my own reaction.

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Sully (Kiss of Death MC #8) Read Online Marteeka Karland http://www.wownovels.com/sully-kiss-of-death-mc-8-read-online-marteeka-karland Sun, 07 Dec 2025 21:06:58 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/sully-kiss-of-death-mc-8-read-online-marteeka-karland Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Marteeka Karland Series: Kiss of Death MC Series by Marteeka Karland
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Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 44899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >49

An ex-con biker. A wild heroine. One night isn’t nearly enough.

Sully -- Fresh out of prison, I’m done with chaos. Whiskey, silence, and my brothers in the Kiss of Death MC -- that’s all I want or need. Until Darby storms into Throttle. She’s sharp-tongued, fearless, and dangerous as hell. She stirs up trouble like it’s an art form, and I should walk away. But when she looks at me, I feel alive for the first time in years. She’s the kind of trouble that could wreck me. And I want every second of it.

Darby -- I don’t stick. Not to towns, not to people, sure as hell not to men. Stirring up chaos and disappearing before the fallout, that’s how I roll. Then Sully happens. A rough around the edges ex-con. All scars and quiet control. He should terrify me. Instead, he makes me want to stay. But staying means dragging him into the shadows I’ve been running from, and the men hunting me won’t stop until I’m gone for good.One night was supposed to be enough. Now neither of us can let go.And the danger chasing me just found us both.

This book contains dark themes, adult relationships and language, violence, and situations some readers may find triggering. Intended for mature audiences only.

Copyright All Changeling Press LLC publications and cover art are copyright and may not be used in any AI generated work. No AI content is included or allowed in any Changeling Press LLC publication or artwork

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Sully

The smell of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and something I thought might be grilled onions permeated the main room of Throttle. The bar was frequented by not only members of Kiss of Death MC, but most MCs in the area. People behaved for the most part, but occasionally, the place could be counted on for a good knockdown, drag out brawl. It was one of my favorite bars.

I stood alone at the far end of the bar where I could flag the bartender when I was empty. Right now, I nursed a double shot of Jack that burned less and less with each sip. Night had fallen an hour ago, but the place was just starting to get rowdy. The jukebox in the corner played Lynyrd Skynyrd. Someone had put Street Survivors on repeat which… I mean, great album. But if this kept up, I might have to rethink staying much longer.

Men in leather vests with patches proclaiming their club affiliation and road names hunched over pool tables in the back, cue balls cracking against each other in sharp retorts. Some of the guys had women hanging onto them. Some were trying to get rid of the women hanging on. I just wanted to get pleasantly buzzed. Made the company seem less offensive and more amusing.

I took another sip, letting the amber liquid slide down my throat. The bartender, a mountain of a man with forearms thick as my calves, wiped down the counter in mechanical circles, his eyes constantly sweeping the room for trouble. There was always trouble at Throttle. It was just a matter of when.

Then she walked in.

I didn’t recognize her, which meant she wasn’t a regular. Nobody who valued their skin wandered into Throttle without knowing what they were walking into. She wore a leather jacket that had seen better days. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy braid, revealing sharp cheekbones and a small scar that cut through her right eyebrow. It wasn’t the kind of scar you got from childhood accidents. It was the kind you earned.

She moved with a predator’s grace, weaving between tables without touching a single patron. Her boots made no sound on the scarred wood floor. I watched her scan the room as she made her way to the bar. When those eyes briefly met mine, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the watered-down Jack in my glass.

After ordering her poison, she headed straight for the dartboard hanging on the back wall, where three bikers were tossing darts with the casual disregard of men who owned the space around them. They noticed her approach, their conversation dying as she stopped at the edge of their circle. The tallest one, a bear of a man with a gray-streaked beard reaching his chest, looked her up and down with a smirk.

“Lost, little girl?” he asked, twirling a dart between thick fingers.

The woman smiled. Not a nervous smile, not an appeasing one. It was the serene smile of a shark who had spotted blood in the water and knew there were no lifeboats.

“Just looking for a game,” she replied, her voice carrying easily despite the blaring rock music. “Unless you boys are afraid to play with girls.”

The three men exchanged glances, amused by her audacity. The bearded one chuckled lightly. “You need to move on, sweetheart. The kinda playin’ we do ain’t somethin’ a sweet little thing like you could handle.”

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Chains (Kiss of Death MC #7) Read Online Marteeka Karland http://www.wownovels.com/chains-kiss-of-death-mc-7-read-online-marteeka-karland Wed, 29 Oct 2025 22:15:35 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/chains-kiss-of-death-mc-7-read-online-marteeka-karland Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Marteeka Karland Series: Kiss of Death MC Series by Marteeka Karland
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >47

Three black cats. One grumpy biker. Fate’s about to get witchy. And wickedly hot.

Elvira – Halloween’s my favorite holiday, until one teeny mishap with my practice spell. Suddenly I’m homeless, stinking of swamp gas, and dragging three black cats into a biker compound… Where I meet Chains. Big, broody, and superstitious as hell, he glares at my “demon spawn” like they’re plotting his death. But the way he looks at me? Let’s just say my spell isn’t the only thing that’s likely to combust. He’s all hard muscle and harder attitude, and I can’t tell if he wants to banish me… or bend me over the couch and have his wicked way with me. I would definitely approve of option number two!

Chains -- I don’t fear much after nine years inside, but Ellie is chaos. She’s a walking disaster. Loud, messy, and makes Halloween look like a lifestyle, not a holiday. And her damn cats have me spooked. I tell myself she’s trouble. Too naïve. Too good. Then she kisses me, and suddenly I’m ready to sell my soul for another taste. My MC brothers think it’s funny. Screw em. Elvira’s mine. And if anyone touches her, I’ll burn this place to the ground.

Chains contains memories of domestic abuse and manipulation. However, there is a happy-ever-after ending that will make you feel warm and fuzzy.

Copyright All Changeling Press LLC publications and cover art are copyright and may not be used in any AI generated work. No AI content is included or allowed in any Changeling Press LLC publication or artwork

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Elvira

I stood in the center of my apartment, surveying the disaster zone that used to be my living room. The cauldron, which was actually just my favorite stock pot, lay on its side on the stove. Dark green liquid dripped steadily from the countertop by the stove onto the cheap linoleum floor. My witches’ brew experiment had gone spectacularly wrong, again, filling the air with a stench so foul it made my eyes water. I’d only wanted to create a love potion. Instead, I’d concocted what smelled like a demonic skunk had mated with rotting eggs in a garbage fire.

“It’s okay, babies,” I cooed to the three black cats, who’d retreated to their carriers the moment the pot bubbled over. “Mommy just had a tiny magical mishap.”

Lucifer hissed from behind his carrier door, his yellow eyes narrowed in judgment. Binx paced in tight circles, while Salem had his paws pressed against his nose. Even my familiars couldn’t stand the smell.

“I know, I know. I should have followed the recipe.” I pulled my tank top over my nose, breathing through the fabric. “But who has time to find owl feathers and moonwater on a Tuesday night?”

I flung open every window in my apartment, the October air rushing in but barely making a dent in the stench. The smoke detector, which had been screaming for ten minutes, finally quieted. Green sludge dripped from the ceiling above the stove where the potion had splattered during its violent eruption. My carefully arranged Halloween decorations were now coated in something that looked like radioactive snot.

“We can fix this,” I muttered to myself, only half convinced. “Just need some bleach, maybe an exorcism, definitely a new carpet…”

The pounding on my door made me jump. “Miss Blackheart!” Yeah. He didn’t sound happy. “Open the door right now!”

“Coming, Mr. Peterson!” I sang out in my cheeriest voice, frantically attempting to right the fallen cauldron. Green goo sloshed over my fingers, burning slightly. “Just freshening up!”

I wiped my hands on my black jeans and pulled my long hair back into a heavy ponytail. Taking a deep breath, I immediately regretted it as the fumes hit my lungs, I opened the door with my most innocent smile even as my eyes watered.

Mr. Peterson stood there, his face the color of an overripe tomato. The vein in his forehead throbbed with such intensity I worried it might burst. His nostrils flared before he clamped a hand over his nose as the wall of stink hit him.

“What in God’s name --” He choked, stumbling backward. “The entire building smells like… like…”

“Aromatherapy!” I offered brightly. “It’s a, um, rare Eastern technique for cleansing negative energy.”

His eyes bulged as he peered past me into the apartment. “Your ceiling is green! There’s smoke everywhere!”

“That’s part of the process?” My voice lifted higher with each word, betraying my desperation.

“The Johnsons in 3B are throwing up. Mrs. Wittlesby’s cat fainted. The Andersons’ dog is howling like it’s seen a ghost.” He thrust a piece of paper at me. “This is an eviction notice. You’re out, Miss Blackheart.”

I took the paper with trembling fingers. “But Mr. Peterson, I’ve always paid my rent on time, and --”

“I don’t care if you paid your rent in gold bars! You’ve violated every health code in existence. People are evacuating the damn building!” The longer he spoke, the louder he got. And he’d been pretty damned loud to start with.

Behind me, one of my cats let out a mournful yowl. “Those damn black cats of yours,” he muttered, making the sign of the cross. “I knew they were bad news.”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Don’t blame my cats for this. They’re innocent.”

“You have until tonight to get out,” he bellowed, gesturing wildly at my smoke-stained ceiling. “Eight hours! After that, I’m calling animal control for those beasts and the hazmat team for… whatever hell brew you’ve cooked up in here.”

“But where am I supposed to go?” My voice cracked, the reality of my situation finally sinking in. “You can’t kick me out with no notice!”

“Not my problem. And it’s my damn building; I’ll do whatever the hell I want. Take it to court if you want. Don’t care. But until you get a court date, I want you out of here!” He stepped back, pulling a handkerchief over his nose. “I’ve put up with the stink for the last time. Eight hours, Miss Blackheart. Not a minute more.”

The door slammed in my face. I stood there, clutching the eviction notice, feeling the edges of panic creeping in. Sure, I could take him to court. He’d have to call the police to force me to leave and they wouldn’t make me unless there was a court order. But honestly, I knew it was time to move on. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I’d hoped to save a little more money before then. But maybe this was a sign.

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Bloody Jack’s Treat – 31 Days Of Trick Or Treat Read Online Marteeka Karland http://www.wownovels.com/bloody-jacks-treat-31-days-of-trick-or-treat-read-online-marteeka-karland Sun, 12 Oct 2025 20:52:07 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/bloody-jacks-treat-31-days-of-trick-or-treat-read-online-marteeka-karland Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Authors: Marteeka Karland Advertisement

Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 33577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

Honey
I should have run the second I stepped inside the Bound in Blood clubhouse. The music is too loud, the men too dangerous, and “Bloody” Jack Mason is watching me like I already belong to him. Then a rival gang storms in, and chaos erupts. One moment I’m choking on fear, the next “Bloody” Jack has me pinned against the wall, kissing me like he owns me. “Bloody” Jack is a criminal. A killer. And the one man I can’t resist.

“Bloody” Jack
I’ve ended more men than I can count, and I don’t regret a drop of blood. But Honey? She’s temptation I can’t ignore. Sweet. Soft. Mine. When a rival gang touches her, I show them exactly what happens when someone crosses “Bloody” Jack. She’s terrified, trembling… but she’s still holding on. I should push her away. Instead, I claim her.

A rival gang wants war. My club demands blood. And the woman I should never have is the only thing I’ll never surrender

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Bloody Jack

“Any partyin’ you bastards plan on doin’ better be durin’ the fuckin’ day.” I didn’t have the patience for this fuckin’ shit. The Copperhead MC from the underbelly of Rockwell, Illinois was nipping at my supply chains like a fucking piranha. Fuckin’ bastards annoyed the piss outta me in the extreme. Their fucking with my shipments stung like a son of a bitch, but were mostly harmless. But the braver they got the more it stung. With tonight being Hell Night, the night before Halloween, most mischief would be happening in the city tonight. There was a tight itch between my shoulder blades telling me I needed the club on alert.

I sat at the bar, nursing my third whiskey and scowling at the paper skeletons some idiot had strung up across the ceiling beams. The Hell Night party I'd warned against was in full fucking swing anyway, and the clubhouse pulsed with bass-heavy music that made my teeth ache. Halloween had always been a bullshit holiday, but tonight it felt like an invitation for trouble with the Copperheads circling our territory like the venomous bastards they were.

"Another one, Prez?" Kneecap, one of the prospects tending bar, held up the bottle of Jack Daniels. His fresh club tattoo peeked out from beneath his rolled-up sleeve.

I pushed my glass forward, turned it upside down, and shook my head. "Coffee."

Kneecap raised an eyebrow but didn’t hesitate to pour a cup. Black. The stout brew burned a familiar path down my throat as I surveyed our clubhouse. I suppose it wasn’t as bad as it could be. There had been years when the club whores took over and the decorations got out of hand. Normally, I’d have happily retreated to my office and let the mayhem go on its merry way, but I never ignored that itch between my shoulders. If something happened tonight, I intended to be ready.

The main room had people everywhere. Crowded as shit. Brothers, their old ladies, and the usual rotating cast of club girls looking for a night with a patch holder. Cigarette smoke hung thick, mingling with the scents of motor oil, sweat and beer.

My phone vibrated against my thigh. I pulled it out, checking the message from Reaper, one of my scouts watching the south border of our territory.

All quiet. No snakes in sight.

I texted back a simple “K” and pocketed the phone. Five other scouts were positioned strategically around Rockwell, each with orders to report any Copperhead movement. So far, nothing, but that knot between my shoulder blades only tightened. Fifteen years in this life had taught me to trust that feeling more than any scout report.

The heavy front door swung open, and the October chill swept in, carrying with it a vision that had me squinting my eyes and leaning forward to make sure I was seeing her properly. I'd seen plenty of women come through that door — club girls with their tits hanging out, old ladies marking their territory, even the occasional lost soul looking to score. But this woman? No. She didn't belong.

She wore a black leather corset that hugged curves I wanted to map with my tongue, paired with tight pants that said "good girl playing dress up" louder than if she'd screamed it. It wasn’t so much in the outfit, though. More the way she wore it. Like she was trying to convince herself not to be self conscious. I doubt she’d ever worn anything remotely similar to the get up she had on now.

Her hair fell in honey-blonde waves past her shoulders, and even from across the room, I could see her wide eyes taking in the chaos around her. Red lips parted in shock before she swallowed and put her shoulders back. Brave little thing. If she was twenty-one, it wasn’t a day over.

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