Marteeka Karland - Oktober - Teaser

(Kiss of Death MC 13)

MC Romance

Date Published: April 17, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

Mia looks like heartbreak. When her toxic ex follows, he doesn’t know what he’s up against.

Mia: I caught my boyfriend cheating with my best friend. So I did what any emotionally stable woman would do. I rented a secluded cabin in the Smoky Mountains and swore off men forever. Then the motorcycles arrived, along with Oktober. He’s six feet of tattooed temptation with a voice like sin and a stare that says he’s already picturing me against the nearest solid surface. He doesn’t offer sympathy. He offers control. And after being lied to, gaslit, and humiliated, control sounds… therapeutic. What starts as a revenge-fueled vacation fling turns into possessive heat, obsessive chemistry, and the kind of dark romance that makes bad decisions feel like personal growth. But when my toxic ex tracks me down, I learn two things. Eric still thinks I belong to him. He has no idea who he’s competing with.

Oktober: I came to the mountains for downtime with my MC brothers. Beer. Bikes. No drama. Then I found Mia next door looking like heartbreak wrapped in stubborn pride. I don’t chase women. I don’t beg. And I definitely don’t do feelings. I claim. She says she just wants a distraction. I give her protection, obsession, and enough heat to make her forget her ex’s name. When the idiot shows up trying to intimidate her, I almost feel bad for him. Almost. Kiss of Death MC doesn’t tolerate disrespect.

“Touch her and die” isn’t a cute slogan. It’s community policy.

Excerpt
Copyright ©2026 Marteeka Karland

Mia

I walked up the three flights of stairs to our apartment, conference badge still hanging from my neck, my rolling suitcase bumping rhythmically against each step. The academic panel had ended early. Budget cuts meant fewer speakers, fewer questions, fewer reasons to stay. I hadn’t texted Eric. The thought of surprising him, of seeing his face light up when I walked through the door two days ahead of schedule, made my lips curve into a smile. We might even head early to the little cabin retreat I’d been planning for after the weekend. Maybe I’d call ahead and see if I could get it starting tonight or tomorrow. I shifted the takeout bag to my other hand and dug for my keys, the scent of his favorite pad thai spiraling up from the paper sack.

The hallway stretched before me, same beige carpet I’d walked nearly every day for the past six months since I’d moved in with Eric. Our door waited at the end, looking exactly as it always did. I took comfort in the mundane. I loved surprises but preferred my quiet, steady life as drama free as I could keep it.

I opened the door and stepped inside the spacious apartment Eric owned in downtown Nashville. I heard them before I saw them. A muffled laugh, a thump against a wall in the bedroom. For a moment as I approached the closed door, I thought maybe Eric was watching something on his laptop. He did that sometimes, sprawled across our bed as he watched or even worked from bed. When he did, he sometimes hit the wall as he shifted.

The bedroom door swung open, and time moved to slow motion around me. Eric’s bare back faced me, the knobs of his spine visible as he hunched over her. My best friend, Jade’s, legs were wrapped around his waist, her head thrown back against my pillow on my side of the bed. Her dark hair spread across the soft linens I’d washed before leaving for the conference the day before.

My keys dangled from suddenly numb fingers. Thank God I’d set the takeout bag on the counter as I’d passed by the kitchen or I’d have dropped it. Just like I did the keys two seconds later.

They froze. Their heads turned in unison, like puppets controlled by the same string.

“Mia!” Eric’s voice cracked as he shoved up from Jade and the bed, his junk on full display. Without a condom. Just ducky. “Jesus -- you’re… You weren’t supposed to --”

Jade yanked the sheet up to her chin, her eyes wide and glassy. “Oh God, Mia, I can explain --”

Could she? Could she explain why my best friend since sophomore year of college was naked in my bed with my boyfriend of three years? Could she explain why they were both looking at me with expressions more annoyed than ashamed, as though I’d interrupted something that was rightfully theirs?

I didn’t want to hear it.

I stood there, my suitcase forgotten in the hallway, watching Eric scramble to pull on his jeans. His mouth was moving, explanations tumbling out. I heard something about loneliness and mistakes and too much wine. His words hit a barrier around me, sounds without meaning. I noticed things instead. Like the wineglass on my nightstand with Jade’s lipstick on the rim. The way she clutched my sheet to her chest like she had any right to modesty in this moment. The condom wrappers on the floor.

“Mia, please say something,” Eric pleaded, his hand reaching for my arm.

I stepped back. My body felt disconnected, operating on primitive autopilot while my mind floated, watching this scene unfold to someone else, trying to detach myself from the stark reality of what I’d just witnessed.

“How long?” My voice sounded weak and thready. Like I had to force the words out. I suppose I did because I really had no desire to know how long I’d played the fool and looked like an idiot in front of all our friends.

They exchanged a look. That look told me everything I needed to know.

I turned away, walking to the closet where we kept our luggage. Eric followed, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood.

“Mia, it’s not what you think. It just happened. We were both missing you --”

I pulled my large duffel bag from the top shelf, the one I’d planned to use for our cabin trip next week. The trip I’d booked six months ago because Eric had complained we never went anywhere, just the two of us.

“Mia, please --” Jade appeared in the doorway, my robe wrapped around her body. My robe. On her body. “We never meant to hurt you. It was a mistake.”

I moved around our apartment like a ghost. The only thing I really needed was my laptop and that was still packed. The duffel had already been packed with my favorite, most comfortable clothes from jeans and T-shirts to a couple of nice sundresses for the early spring weather. Plenty of underwear and my toiletries. Beyond that, I didn’t need anything else.

“What are you doing?” Eric’s voice rose, panic edging in. “You can’t just leave. We need to talk about this.”

I looked at him then, really looked at him. His face, the face I’d woken up to nearly every morning since I’d moved in with him six months ago, suddenly seemed foreign.

“The cabin,” I said, zipping the duffel bag closed. “I’m going to the cabin.”

“Our cabin trip? That’s next weekend.” His confusion was genuine, as if he thought we might still have a future with plans and dates to keep.

“No,” I replied. “My cabin trip. You’re not invited and I need some space to think.”

I walked past them both, grabbing my purse from the hook by the door. My suitcase waited in the hallway, a silent witness. I left it there. I didn’t want anything I’d packed for the conference. This homecoming had further emphasized why I hated drama. It also reminded me of how I’d changed my life’s direction to meet Eric’s expectations and needs. I’d chosen academia over social work even though my own background had called me to that field.

“You can’t drive all the way to the Smokies right now,” Jade said, her voice thin with forced reason. “It’s getting late. You’re upset. Stay at my place if you need space from Eric.”

The laugh that escaped me was brittle. “Are you for real right now?”

I was already down the hallway, duffel bag slung over my shoulder, when Eric caught up with me. “The cabin’s over three hours away. You’re not thinking clearly. At least let me drive you.”

I shook him off. “Don’t touch me. You never get to touch me again, Eric.”

I hurried out of the apartment building and got into my car. As I tried to leave, he got in front of my vehicle and stopped me.

“Mia! Stop acting like this! Go back inside and we can discuss this like adults.”

“Get out of my way or I’m going to run you over, Eric.”

He smirked. “No, you won’t.”

I saw red.

Eric must have seen something shift in my expression because his eyes widened. He backed up and out of the path of my vehicle, just before I gunned it and peeled out of the parking lot.

* * *

The drive was a blur. I’d called the nice lady at the cabin rental place and she said I could check in tonight. I figured if I’d already paid for the reservation I might as well get the most out of it. And fuck Eric anyway! The interstate stretched before me, my hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly, the speedometer creeping higher with each mile. My phone buzzed repeatedly in the passenger seat. Eric, then Jade, then Eric again. Yeah. No. Not fucking happening. What a fucking night.

When I finally pulled into the driveway of the cabin I’d rented, I sat there -- not really sure if I wanted to get out or go somewhere else and start apartment hunting. I did not look forward to finding a new place.

The interior and exterior cabin lights welcomed me with a cheerfulness that felt artificial and mocking. This was supposed to be a lovers’ week away. Instead, I had no idea why I kept the reservation. This time of year, though, I’d have been paying for at least part of the week no matter what, so figured I might as well make the most of the money I’d spent.

The small A-frame sat silhouetted against the darkening sky, exactly as pictured on the rental website where I’d booked our romantic getaway. My hands shook as I reached for the instructions I’d received from the rental company with the key code for the door. With a sigh, I got out of the car and headed toward the cabin.

The door creaked open to reveal knotty pine walls and a stone fireplace, a large window framing the silver gleam of a lake beyond. Our romantic retreat. My lonely refuge. I stepped inside and locked the door behind me.

An hour later, I sat cross-legged on the cabin’s plush rug, back against the couch, drinking Cabernet straight from the bottle. The wine was meant for our first night here, a special vintage Eric loved. Fucker.

The phone buzzed in my hand. Eric calling. Again. I watched his name flash across my screen. The buzzing stopped. Seven missed calls now. Three voicemails. Thirteen text messages.

Fucker.

Almost immediately, the phone buzzed again. Jade this time. My thumb hovered over the screen. What could she possibly have to say? That she was sorry? That it meant nothing? That I should understand?

“Fuck you,” I whispered, pressing the power button until the screen went black. I hurled the phone across the room where it landed on a chair cushion.

I drained the wine bottle and stumbled to the bedroom. The king-size bed loomed, its white duvet like a blank canvas stretched too large for a single body. I collapsed onto it fully clothed, then rolled to one side. Yeah, I wouldn’t say I was wasted, exactly, but I’d finished off a bottle of wine in the space of a couple hours while I sat and let my new reality wash over me. Getting an apartment needed to be at the top of my list of things to do.

Later. I’d worry about everything later. Right now, though, I needed to sleep off the alcohol.

Sleep came in jagged fragments broken more than once by dreams. Around three in the morning, I gave up. I wrapped myself in a throw blanket from the foot of the bed and padded out to the porch.

The night air carried the sharp scent of pine and the earthy dampness of the lake. A nearly full moon hung above the tree line, casting silver light across the water’s surface, creating ripples of brightness that shifted with each breeze. I curled up under the blanket into an Adirondack chair.

How had I been so blind? The late nights at work. The suddenly password-protected phone. The way he’d stopped initiating sex months ago. Classic signs, straight from an “Is Your Partner Cheating?” quiz in some women’s magazine. I had an EdD -- Doctor of Education for nonacademic people -- and was a reading specialist for early elementary-age children. I took research principles for helping kids learn to read and comprehend advanced works and applied them in the real world, and I was damned good at that passion! Yet I’d completely missed that my boyfriend was sleeping with my best friend.

And Jade. My throat tightened. We’d met in a special education seminar. Shared an apartment junior and senior year of university. She’d held my hair back while I puked when I drank too much after my first serious breakup. I’d helped her study for the LSAT. We’d joked about being each other’s maids of honor someday. She’d finished her law degree and joined Eric’s firm while I’d become the best reading teacher in Middle Tennessee.

Now I had no idea who she was. Who either of them were. Or who I was, for that matter. Well, other than the woman who lived in ignorant bliss with two rat traitors.

* * *

Morning came with harsh sunlight and a pounding headache. I made coffee in the French press I’d packed, forcing myself to drink it black, though I normally loaded it with cream. The bitter taste matched my mood.

I found hiking boots in the bottom of my duffel and laced them with sharp, angry tugs. A hike. That’s what I needed. Movement. Exhaustion. Anything to quiet the loop of images playing in my mind. And yeah. The image of Eric’s bare back, Jade’s legs wrapped around him, their twin expressions of annoyance at being caught occupied my brain and had been seared into my optic nerve.

The trail behind the cabin started gently enough but soon rose steeply into the mountains. I pushed myself, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I climbed. Sweat soaked my T-shirt and plastered my hair to my neck. Good. I wanted to hurt physically. Wanted my muscles to scream louder than my thoughts.

Branches whipped my arms as I veered off the main trail, following a narrower path that descended toward the sound of water. Towering pines crowded the path, their dense canopy stealing the sunlight while thorny undergrowth clawed at my legs with each step. I leaned into this battle against nature, grateful for how it demanded my complete attention, leaving no room for thoughts of betrayal. At least, for a while.

Two hours of punishing pace brought me to a small, secluded beach on a curve of the lake, far from the rental cabins. Smooth stones lined the shore, and a fallen tree created a natural bench. I collapsed onto it, legs trembling from exertion, lungs burning. I had no doubt this wasn’t public land and I likely trespassed on someone’s beautiful seclusion, but couldn’t bring myself to care too much.

The anger had finally burned down to embers, leaving only exhaustion. The fact I’d managed to work through most of my anger this quickly spoke volumes as to the depth of my feelings for Eric. Maybe I simply liked the idea of what he represented. I’d finally found a home and a close family, surrounding myself with proven friends. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

I pulled a small notebook from my backpack. I’d intended on doing some romantic journaling about our getaway. I uncapped my pen and stared at the blank page. What was there to say? “Dear Diary, today I discovered the two people closest to me are lying pieces of shit”?

I wrote anyway. Ugly, honest words poured onto the page. Raw hurt and confusion poured out, but I found the anger and loss were more for Jade than Eric. I wrote until my hand cramped, until tears blurred my vision, until the words themselves became nonsensical. I must have filled half my little composition notebook before I stopped.

“Three years,” I said aloud to the empty shore. “Three fucking years.”

My voice sounded strange in the silence, too loud and too small at the same time. A crow called from somewhere across the water, as if answering me.

The hike back was slower, my fury temporarily spent. I reached the cabin as late afternoon slid to evening. I’d ripped out the pages of that stupid notebook one at a time and burned them in the fireplace and with it the last of that part of my life.

I showered, letting hot water pound against muscles already stiffening from unaccustomed exercise. After making a sandwich and snagging a soda, I wandered outside.

I sat in a chair on the porch again, watching the small lake turn golden in the setting sun, when I heard the distant rumble, growing louder, of motorcycles in the distance. Not just one or two, but several, their engines a thunderous chorus echoing through the trees.

I straightened in my chair, peering down the shoreline where the noise came from. Each cabin sat surrounded by heavy woodlands. Though they weren’t that far apart, the trees gave a sense of privacy and seclusion.

They came into view one after another. Five bikes, their chrome catching the last rays of sunlight. The riders were broad-shouldered men in leather vests, each with a woman riding behind them. They slowed as they approached the large cabin in the lot next to mine.

They dismounted with easy confidence. Their laughter filtered through the leaves, uninhibited sounds that seemed at odds with the peaceful setting. One man, taller than the others with what looked like blond hair pulled back, gestured expansively with a beer bottle that had appeared from somewhere, and the others roared in response.

“Kiss of Death MC,” I murmured, making out the words on their vests as they moved into the golden evening light. My university town was far from motorcycle club territory, but Kiss of Death was known in certain areas of Nashville. And not in a bad way. Oh, there were rumors of horrors they’d done in the past, but I’d never heard anything bad about them myself. In fact, I knew they protected New Beginnings, a women’s shelter in Nashville that everyone called Haven. Women in particularly bad situations were sent there until their abusers had been prosecuted. Every woman and child who’d ever spoken about Haven told of how safe they’d felt in the care of the motorcycle club’s security.

I should have been afraid, I suppose. Alone in a remote cabin with a group of bikers nearby. Instead, I felt an unexpected curiosity. Their obvious camaraderie, their comfortable inhabitation of their bodies and space, seemed like a foreign language I suddenly wanted to understand.

I watched until darkness swallowed them, until their cabin blazed with light and the sound of classic rock drifted through the woods. Their vitality stood in stark contrast to my hollow solitude, and for the first time since walking in on Eric and Jade, I felt something other than pain.

I felt… awakened. Like maybe there was something important in life I’d been missing out on and couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing.

Teaser - April 13th

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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

Author on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/experiencethemagicmk

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

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