Tuesday, December 23, 2025
RELEASE BLITZ - Property of Mountain
Monday, December 22, 2025
Cole for Christmas Teaser @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #ColeforChristmas #TrevaHarte #ChristmasRomance
A Friends to Lovers BDSM Ménage
Date Published: December 23, 2025
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cole is wild, funny, impulsive, and Sarah’s best friend. She doesn’t understand what he gets out of submission, but she’s not going to let Cole get hurt the way he has in the past. So when she discovers his new dom is Jeff, the jerk who helped kick her out of her undergraduate program, she knows she has to intervene.
But when she sees Jeff again, she’s confused. He says he wants Sarah to be Cole’s Christmas present, and she’s stunned. She and Cole are just friends, aren't they? Amazingly, Cole seems to want her as much as she secretly has wanted him. The even bigger surprise? She realizes she wants Jeff too.
Even if she could have them both, this is supposed to be temporary. It’s too bad she’s only allowed to have Cole for Christmas.
Copyright ©2025 Treva Harte
“What’s wrong with you, Cole?” Sarah stared at her friend over the flimsy coffee container. “You have to go pee pee? You’ve been twitchy ever since we got here.”
Cole laughed and gave her the finger. He opened his mouth as if to give a smart-ass answer but then bent over his latte instead. Not looking at her, he carefully blew on it and took a sip.
Sarah settled back. Cole was obviously dying to tell her something, and she knew from experience all she needed to do was sit. If he waited more than ten minutes before spilling everything, he’d probably keel over from the strain.
The clatter of students milling around the student union coffee shop made the silence less noticeable. They continued drinking.
Two minutes of just downing caffeine. Impressive. Cole was hanging tough.
He shifted again in his seat and shut his eyes, grimacing. Sarah frowned, suddenly a little concerned. Cole was a genius -- a real, measured-by-testing genius -- but that didn’t mean his emotional IQ always matched his intelligence. She was sure it was a challenge to be five to ten years younger than his academic peers, and Cole didn’t always meet that challenge. In fact, Cole could be kind of a pain in the ass. Right now he was acting like he had a literal pain there.
Oh. Ohhhh, boy. He might actually have one. Please God, no. She might have to venture into TMI territory to find out.
Cole had been more than forthcoming about his sex life in the two years they’d been in grad school together. That was a problem for him. Younger and smarter in some things had made him vulnerable in others, especially since he was open about his sexual preferences and desires. Gay at the university was one thing; gay and dedicated to BDSM was another.
“Has someone hurt you?” She hoped that question would get the job done. Sarah could be more direct, if need be, but she also probably didn’t want to know all the particulars.
“No.” His prompt answer was a relief. Of course, he had to add, “Not any more than I want to be.”
“Ooookay.” Sarah set down her cup. Sometimes a friend had a duty to ask more even if she’d so much rather not. “Have you met some new dom?”
“You know I have. I told you about him.” Cole didn’t look up from his latte, but he didn’t sound reluctant to answer.
“You mentioned you’d met someone new at a club a few weeks ago, but you didn’t say anything more.” That wasn’t like her Cole at all now that she thought about it. “Is that the guy?”
“Fuck yeah. I was incredibly lucky that night. He hardly ever goes to clubs. Says they’re too fake for his tastes.” Cole squirmed again. “He isn’t into scenes. Not public ones.”
“So you’ve been -- um -- doing things outside of clubs?” Sarah wasn’t sure which sounded more dangerous. Cole wouldn’t know danger if it bit him on the butt. Especially if it bit him on the butt.
“At his place. Sarah, it’s… intense. And really sexy.” Cole grinned at her. “That’s all I’ll say unless you want me to go on. I know how you get.”
“And I know how you get, so thanks for shutting up.” She grinned back at him, and Cole shifted his weight again. Sarah sighed. “All right, Cole. Why are you acting this way? Something is going on.”
Cole leaned over, then glanced around to make sure no one was listening. Oh God. He felt the need to keep something private. This was going to be a doozy.
“Because I have a butt plug in me. A big one. It’s driving me crazy. Especially because it’s pressing on my fucking prostate.”
Sarah made a faint protesting noise and covered her eyes. “I don’t want to know.”
“When I see Jeff after work, he’s going to take it out and replace it with --”
“Don’t want to know, don’t want to know. Don’t. Wanna. Know.” Sarah covered her ears instead.
Cole pushed down one of her hands and whispered, “Unless you want to pull it out for me. Jeff might get mad, but it would be worth it if your dainty, lily-white fingers would take care of things for me right now. It might even be fun.”
Sarah clenched her dainty, lily-white fingers and smacked him on the shoulder with her plastic spoon.
Cole leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Stunned, Sarah dropped the spoon on the table. For such a demonstrative guy, Cole pretty much kept his hands and lips to himself. Well, at least around women. She’d seen guys pass him around like an appetizer at parties. Obviously that kind of touching was different for him.
Oh, shit. After remembering some of those party images, she felt a sudden pang of lust. She took a deep breath. Now she could see herself testing that butt plug, imagine what Cole’s tight ass looked like holding it. His gasp when it moved. Damn it, she didn’t need to have that thought in her head. Talk about waste of time! Cole was completely off-limits. He’d never be her appetizer. Friends. They were friends. She’d gotten over her stupid crush long ago. That didn’t mean she couldn’t admit to herself he was sexy. In an off-limits way. She didn’t need to start thinking he was available after working so hard to forget he was hot.
“I knew I’d make you do that, but you did ask.” Cole sounded a little too smug.
Sarah looked up. Oh Lord, how could he know about her completely inappropriate thoughts?
Cole rubbed his shoulder, grimacing as if she’d really hurt him. Then he stopped and winked.
Oh. Right. Very funny. She’d hit him. They had a standing joke about his smart mouth and his need for punishment.
“Actually, what I really wanted to ask was what you had planned for Christmas.” She didn’t care if it was an obvious change of subject. Cole could go on pushing her buttons for hours. Besides, she did want to ask.
Last year Cole went with her to see her parents. Cole had way too many experiences with judgmental families like his own, and he’d been apprehensive about the whole thing, especially meeting her officer father. But Dad had been Dad, and Cole had been Cole, and everyone had a great time, just the way Sarah’d expected. This year Mom and Dad had shipped out to Japan, so neither she nor Cole would be seeing their families. She’d hoped they could hang out together for the two weeks while the grad dorms closed during winter break.
“I’ve been wanting to tell you! I’m planning on a trip to a ski lodge in Wyoming all during break.”
“You don’t ski.” Sarah skied but couldn’t afford a weekend, much less weeks at a resort. Life was so unfair.
“I like skiers. And cowboys. Jeff owns a place there.” Cole crumpled his cup and tossed it into the garbage.
“Oh. Jackson Hole?” Sarah snickered. “I could see you headed there just for the name.”
So now she knew this Jeff had money, was a skier, and maybe was a little pretentious. Two out of three wasn’t bad. Especially if he had a ski lodge.
“Grand Targhee. Jeff says it’s even better than Jackson Hole, although not as many people have heard of it.”
So unfair. Sarah had heard of it, and everything she’d heard agreed with what Cole -- who was obviously clueless -- had said. The place wasn’t even that pretentious. If Cole’s new man turned out to be perfect, she’d have to be happy Cole was going away with him on the kind of holiday break she’d want.
And that was so unfair double time. It also meant she had no one to share Christmas with. She didn’t need another reminder that she’d worked too hard, frozen too many people out, had no life. Cole, who bubbled over with curiosity and energy, always made even the bleakest times fun. She’d been counting on him to carry her through this first really big holiday without her parents.
Well, she’d have to get over it. A military brat got used to being around strangers. Maybe she could scrounge up enough money to take a little road trip by herself or get a fancier hotel than she’d planned. It didn’t sound like fun now, but she would work on it.
“You wanna come along?”
About the Author
Treva Harte has always been an overachiever. She also collects things. First it was degrees. First a B.A. in English, then she decided to go back for a Master's degree. Not content with that, she added a J.D. Since then she's added a husband, also an attorney, and two children to her collection. She's continuing her ways as an overachiever, writing her wonderfully offbeat tales of passion and possibilities -- in her spare time.
Visit her website at www.trevaharte.com.
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COVER REVEAL - The Recoil Series
Explosive. Addictive. Romance. at www.keosbornauthor.com
Incubus Teaser @RABTBookTours #RABTBookTours #Incubus #JonathanWright #DarkFantasy
Dark Fantasy/Horror Action Romance
Date Published: December 23, 2025
Publisher: Changeling Press LLC
Smart, capable, and lethal, Sarah Fenton never needed rescuing -- until she met Joe Horn and his horrifying nemesis, the muck-drippy-thing. Together they defeated that nightmare, and for the first time in decades Joe could stop running.
In the process, Sarah discovered her weakness -- Joe. The hard-as-nails woman becomes Joe’s willing sub -- his slave girl. Joe is a perfect Dom, but Sarah has even darker fantasies -- lurid, sensual and totally submissive. Sometimes, they even come to life.
Now one of them is stalking her, and she feels the awful temptation of nightmarish pleasure. The darker the fantasy, the more intense the pleasure. Pleasure stronger than any drug. Pleasure that threatens to drown her. The pleasure of surrender… to an Incubus.
Jongo infested her fantasies, dark, muscular, commanding. Sarah masturbated three or four times a day thinking of him coming to take her, dragging her by her hair, stumbling naked from the house, immune to his kicks and punches, honed by years of training that would kill an ordinary man.
Not ordinary, Jongo. Not him. No. Her struggles only fed his burning hunger. And hers. As now. As naked as she was, his huge cock throbbing and bouncing as he walked, his grip was casual, yet inhumanly strong.
Stronger even than Joe, whom she had called Master more often than not. But this wasn’t really about Joe…
* * *
Exhausted, struggling to keep her feet as she stumbled, Sarah gave up, then was dragged, then followed him limply, his grip in her thick hair making her walk head down, like a slave, cursing, then crying, then sobbing… please, please, please.
Please, what? The demon’s strength, already huge, increased as he stepped out of the trees onto the beach. As his foot touched the water, he dragged her upright until she stood with her head tilted back, staring up at him. He pushed her away, his hooded eyes nearly invisible in the shadows of the moon. “Kneel.” He grinned as he stroked his cock with his free hand.
Sarah stumbled and fell into knee-deep water. Rising, sputtering as water streamed down her body, defiance failed her; words choked her. She breathed heavily, staring at his cock.
“Recall how I took you before, so easily, wrapping you in my vines, my seaweed, stroking your hungry body until you begged me to take you. How I made you scream my name.”
Her legs quivered. She wanted to curse him, scream for help, for Joe to… rescue…
Sarah had never in her life needed rescuing. Except for one time…
* * *
The wind sucked her along the dirty cement floor, into the waiting maw of that THING, the muck-drippy-thing, as she steadied the pistol and emptied the fourteen-round clip into its indescribable excuse for a face as the spindly spider arms reached for her…
Then Joe was there, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her back. Stronger than any man she had ever known. Pulling her back from the edge. Saving her.
* * *
Sarah hadn’t felt weak. Not then. Not like she felt now.
Weak. So weak. Why do I feel this way? Jongo is a monster, a creature from the icy black depths of the harshest place on earth. Why do I feel so fucking hot?
She stroked her clit with one hand as she slowly sank to her knees in the warm, swirling water. She spread the fingers of her other hand and teased her nipples, shivering as she imagined being held against her will in the depths of his lair.
“You are helpless,” Jongo told her. “Helpless.” A ritual. A spell.
Yes. Helpless! Helpless! I am helpless! Her mouth fell open. She arched her back, presenting her full tits.
I have to stop. I have to be strong! “No!” she gasped in a purposely seductive parody of defiance. Wait. Purposely? Like I want this?
Jongo grinned and said nothing, continued stroking his cock. His huge, erect cock. She couldn’t stop looking at it. At him. I love cock. I love it. Joe says I’m a cock-hungry slut. I get wet when he whispers that to me.
Helpless… His voice faded, still there, still commanding. She came with a short, harsh cry as the orgasm claimed her.
Jongo laughed. “You have already surrendered. Do as I command! Keep stroking yourself!”
She did. I can’t stop. I can’t disobey him. It feels so good to obey. I want more!
“Think how my hard cock will feel in your hot, wet cunt. You will beg for it. Beg for it, woman! Beg for my cock! For when you do, when I plunge into you, you will be mine. My slave. Forever!”
Sarah came again, moaning this time, closing her eyes and thrusting hard, pushing her fingers deep into her soft tits. “Yes! Jongo, fuck me! Yes! Make me your slave! Make me your slave!”
She dropped back into the water as he fell on her, forcing her legs apart, driving his cock into her, driving her will deep down into the chill, black depths of his domain where it dissolved like tendrils of ink. She wrapped her legs around him and thrust mindlessly, screaming as she came and came and…
* * *
Sarah lay on the table on the veranda, sweating, her tits heaving, her knees spread, hips moving rhythmically up and down in time with her frantic thrusts as she came for the fifth time. “Ah, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She rammed the dildo into her cunt one final time before slowly drawing it out. Her whole body quivered, drenched in sweat, as she lowered her legs and stretched, groaning.
“Well, I think you must clean off that table before you use it for anything else.”
Sarah gasped in shock, but without shame or embarrassment.
Belle stood not three feet away, a gorgeous Jamaican woman of medium height and surpassing curves, dressed in paint spattered clothes and carrying various implements of artistic creation. “You missing your man Joe? He’s only been gone a day.” Belle arched one elegant brow for emphasis.
Sarah dropped the dildo and draped one arm over her sweaty face. “You have no idea…” Joe liked to watch her fuck herself like that. Imagining him doing so made it hotter for her.
Belle chuckled and began setting up an easel. “So hot for your Dom, you maybe forget we had an appointment to paint those luscious curves?”
Jonathan Wright retired to the northeast, where he is surrounded by family and trees in about equal numbers. In his free time he enjoys thinking up erotically terrifying situations for his characters, who insist they don’t like that sort of thing. When he isn’t writing about slavering fangs in the dark he does weird-ass paintings.
He has a daughter who will admit to the relationship under duress. He puts up with her because she makes great cookies.
We don't know why she puts up with him.
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Saturday, December 20, 2025
Hot for Mr. Moneybags Release Blitz




“Eleven-thirty.”
My eyes flew open wide and I sprang up from where I was on his lap. “Eleven-thirty?”
“Si.”
“Oh my god, I hardly ever stay up this late.”
“Neither do I, but I have been having such a nice time with you.”
I was on my feet now and headed to his front door, wide awake. “And I was—am—with you. But it’s still late. I need to let you get to bed. I need to get to bed. It’s a schoo—wait, it’s not a school day tomorrow, is it?” My feet practically made a screeching sound on his hardwood floor. I stopped so fast.
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” he said, totally calm, if not a little amused at how I went from zero to sixty to zero so quickly.
“Right. Saturday.” I exhaled, and my shoulders rounded. “Sam is having a sleepover with her cousins at Gabrielle’s. So as long as I’m home in the morning before she comes to find me …”
A slow smile curled on one side of his mouth as he stepped closer to me. I thought he was going to put his hands on my hips, or scoop me up and cart me off caveman style to the bedroom, but instead, he took my hand. “Let me play with your hair a little longer.” Then he tugged me back to the couch.
I was too weak, too relaxed, too infatuated with this man to say no.
“I know you said this is your first date, and I said that it’s been over twenty years since my last first date. So I am okay taking this as slow as you would like.”
We sat back down on the couch.
“However, if you are okay with it, Danica, I would very much like to kiss you.”
My breath stuttered as I inhaled, my eyes falling to his full lips. He’d shaved today, and the five o’clock shadow in all its salt-and-pepper glory was as sexy as ever. I ached to feel it scratch my cheek.
Swallowing, and unable to keep my hands from shaking, I knitted them in my lap as I sat facing him on the couch. “Yes. I … I would like that too.”
His eyelids dropped to half-mast as he reached forward and gently, but possessively, cupped the back of my neck, his pinky against my raging pulse, his thumb cradling my jaw. With his other hand, he grabbed my twitching, clasped fingers, and stilled them. “Relax. I will bite you only if you ask me to.”
My breathy “ha” of a laugh came out as more of a squeak, as he leaned forward and slowly pressed his mouth to mine.
I closed my eyes and let him take the lead, slowly letting our lips touch, then pull back, then touch and explore. He inched forward a little more, tightening his grip on my neck just a fraction, and encouraged me to open my mouth wider.
I was putty in his safe, strong hands and let him guide me through the best kiss of my life. I thought for sure that he was going to push his tongue into my mouth or lay me on my back, but he didn’t. He pressed his soft lips to mine one more time, then slowly pulled away.
I was breathless, rampant with need, and so incredibly relaxed.
Blinking open my eyes, I found him watching me, a small smile lifting one corner of his mouth higher than the other.
Was he going to kiss me again?
Please.
“Come,” he said, encouraging me to lay back down and rest my head in his lap. He started playing with my hair again. “Tell me something about you that would surprise people to learn,” he said, reaching to the side table and grabbing his wineglass. He took a sip, set it back down, then reached for my free hand again, twining our fingers together.
Swallowing, I studied the strong, angular shape of his jaw and the way the firelight cast beautiful flickering shadows across it. This man was a work of art. A stunning representation of the male form both inside and out.
“Hmm?” he probed. “What is something nobody would expect Danica St. Claire to have done?”
Biting my lip, I hedged a smile. “For my thirtieth birthday, I went and got a tattoo, then I went bungy jumping. Is that surprising?”
“Do you think people would be surprised to know that about you?”
I shrugged. “I’m the shyest of all of us. So, maybe. I take the fewest risks. I’m a bookkeeper, for goodness sake. I crunch numbers and sit in my home office all day, toiling over our business accounts. I’m boring. I’m—”
Pressing his finger across my lips, he shook his head. “You are not boring. And your job has meaning. Just because you are not fighting bad guys or sailing the high seas catching crabs does not mean your life, your work, is without meaning.”
“Superheroes and crab boat fishermen are the examples you used?”
“I like Batman and Deadliest Catch.” His broad shoulder lifted as his eyes and smile became boyish and sweet. “But you are not boring. I do not find you boring. I find you fascinating. And I want to see this tattoo.” He bobbed his silver brows salaciously. “I would never bungy jump. I do not like heights very much. So to me, that is surprising and not boring at all.”
“You’re not allowed to laugh, okay?”
“I will remain as still as a statue.”
“As still as the David?” I asked, grinning.
“Do you want me to take off all my clothes?”
Yes.
“Just don’t laugh.”
His smile was electrifying, and when I untangled our fingers, my hand trembled when I reached for the hem of my dress. His eyes followed my every movement as I slowly peeled the hem of my dress up my thighs. But my hand couldn’t stop trembling.
My breath grew ragged, and my stomach tightened into unforgiving knots.
“Here,” he said softly, resting his hand over top of mine. “Together.”
Eyes locked on each other, we dragged my dress hem up my thighs, over my pelvis, exposing my black underwear with the little satin bow, until my hipbone and the bunch of grapes with an ocean wave all in grayscale came into view. “Nothing fancy,” I croaked out. “I just liked how it represented my new life.”
With his index finger, he touched each grape, counting them in Italian. “Dieci,” he said. “Ten. One for every member of your family.”
“Yeah,” I breathed, impressed that he figured it out so quickly.
His thumb grazed my hipbone, sending electric zaps to all my erogenous zones. “I like it.”
“Me too.”
Releasing my hip, he gently, slowly tugged my dress back down my legs. “I have a tattoo.”
“Yeah?”
“You can see it on the next date.” His smile made me want to lunge up, grab him by the back of the neck, and devour his mouth. “Incentive.”
“Is that your way of securing that second date? Because the dinner and company already locked that in for you.”
Twisting our fingers back together, he nodded. “Just trying to make it impossible for you to say no.”
“It’s already impossible,” I breathed.
“Bella?”
“Si?” I asked, playfully.
“Can I hold you?” The sincerity in his eyes was almost too much. The first date of my life, and it was with the most genuine, passionate, patient man in the entire world. How was that possible? How did men like him still exist? I wasn’t sure they did in America, which was why we had to import them from the Old World.
My head bobbed, even though I wasn’t sure what “hold you” meant.
He helped me sit up, then gently, as if cradling a newborn foal and not a woman in her thirties with damp panties, he maneuvered us so we were spooning on his couch with him behind me.
“We are in no rush for things,” he said, his wine-scented breath against my neck as we settled in. “What do they call this in books?”
“Torture?” I asked, loving the way his thumb had found my hipbone over my dress and drew erotic little circles around it.
Huffing a laugh, he kissed my shoulder. “No. A slow fire?”
“Oh.” I chuckled. “A slow burn. Yeah, this is a slow burn all right.”
“You are okay with that?”
Was I?
While I was nervous as hell to take things to the bedroom, considering I hadn’t had sex with a man since Sam was conceived, every cell in my body screamed with the urgency to be beneath Tom. To feel his skin against mine, his weight on me. I knew he’d be gentle. That he wouldn’t hurt me, and would undoubtedly bring me pleasure—for the first time ever during sex. Even if I didn’t orgasm, it would be better than every single time Rufus climbed his bloated, old, zombie corpse on top of me, pumped twice, grunted, then rolled over and went to sleep.
“You have not answered, bella. Are you okay with the slow burn of us?”
“I am,” I finally said. “We’re getting to know each other.”
He kissed my shoulder again. “We are. And I really like what I am learning.”
“Me too.”



















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