BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Kindred Schemes by R.K. Harrington

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One bookish
debutante. 

Two dashing suitors.

 And a season full of scandal.

 

Kindred Schemes

Schemes Book 1

by R. K. Harrington

Genre: Historical Regency Romance

 

 
 

One bookish
debutante. Two dashing suitors. And a season full of scandal.

Lady Alaina Sinclair never expected London society to be so treacherous—or so
tempting. She has always preferred books to ballrooms, but with a disastrous
start to her first season, she’s determined to rewrite her fate. With her heart
set on the respectable—and very eligible—Duke of Ashford, Alaina is ready to
embrace society’s expectations… even if it means silencing her true desires.

Alaina’s world is set awry by Christopher Kendall, the Marquess of
Rochester—sharp-tongued, maddeningly handsome, and inconveniently, the duke’s
closest friend. Their first encounter is a disaster. Their next, a temptation.
And every moment together after that, increasingly impossible to ignore. But with
a web of secrets, jealous relatives, and mysterious threats unraveling around
her, it soon becomes clear: this is no ordinary season.

Kindred Schemes is a modern take on a regency romance with glamour,
a steamy love triangle, and enough mystery to keep readers turning the page.

 

What readers
are saying:

“The story’s central love triangle will delight
romance fans…Harrington excels in crafting multidimensional characters…[A]
satisfying blend of romance, intrigue, and character-driven
storytelling.” — Booklife 

 

An entertaining period love story, nicely balancing
breathless lust with social satire and high-mindedness.” — Kirkus Reviews

 

“The characters are colorful and sharply etched…the
prose has a droll, Austen-esque verve to it, using pompously polite palaver to
reveal the crassness of high society…In keeping with the style is the spirit
of the book’s message—that true love triumphs over mercenary calculation.
Readers will root for the feisty Alaina to overcome the stuffed shirts and find
her heart’s desire.” — Kirkus Reviews 

 

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

 

 

 
 

London,
1809

Oh no, here he comes, the lascivious Lord Finch and his merry band of
drunken fools. Alaina looked out at the crowded ballroom, her
eyes connecting with the group of men making their way toward its center.
Alaina had only been at the ball for a quarter hour before this particular
disaster struck, the leers of the men making the hairs at the nape of her neck
prickle. It did not escape Alaina’s attention that Lady Barbara, Lord Finch’s
sister, accompanied the group, and wore a sly smile. Hopefully, this latest
encounter would be short. Surely, Lord Finch would not want to be rejected twice,
let alone in front of a large crowd.

Alaina looked to her right to find her parents close at hand, thankfully, and she
stood a little straighter knowing she would not face this alone.

The group of men seemed to move in unison before coming to a halt a few paces
before Alaina and her family. A group of onlookers formed a circle around them
as if ready to enjoy the ensuing spectacle, Lady Barbara taking her place in
the throng. Alaina struggled to focus on the faces of the onlookers as she held
her head high, ready to meet Lord Finch and his friends with as much dignity as
she could muster. She hoped to project a more serene exterior than she
currently felt, her heartbeat accelerating to such a degree that she could feel
the blood rushing in her ears.

Lord Finch stepped to the fore of the now halted group, and gallantly bowed to
Alaina before speaking, his voice so loud that Alaina was sure people arriving
in carriages outside could hear.

“My dearest beautiful Alaina,” he started, clearing his throat before
continuing, “You have set upon me quite a conundrum. I fear I have fallen madly
in love with the idea of having you as my wife, and I feel you should be happy
with such an arrangement. I am quite the catch, you know, especially for
someone from the country, and one who likes to read.”

From behind him, Lady Barbara piped up with an added insult, “Amazing, really, that
Alaina found her way out of the library to be here.” Laughter rippled through
the crowd.

Alaina cringed at his easy use of her given name, devoid of any honorific, and seethed
at the mockery of her character. Lord Finch and his sister sounded ridiculous,
pompous, and conceited.

Alaina was frozen in place, her lips trembling in rage, and when no comment ushered
forth from her lips, Lord Finch rejoined, unfazed by the one-sided nature of
their conversation. “I find myself at an impasse. Shall I continue to press my
suit with decorum, or should I make my feelings known to the whole world, so
that you may not so easily dismiss them as you have in the past?”

A warmth crept up Alaina’s neck and touched her cheeks, giving her pale skin a
glow, although one not easily perceptible in the dim light of the ballroom. She
turned once again to where her parents stood, only to find that her father had
disappeared, and her mother’s pale face was drawn in embarrassment as she
watched her eldest child with dismay. Oh, how Alaina wished her father would
have stayed; his tall frame was intimidating to a crowd, and his familiar umber
eyes were always reassuring to her.

Resolved to put a stop to this farce, Alaina turned back to Lord Finch and remarked, her
voice distant and strange sounding in her ears, “Lord Finch, it seems my
earlier rejection of your suit did not deter you in the least, but I ask you to
have a care for your surroundings.”

As the words left her mouth, Alaina watched Lord Finch’s face change, his
outwardly serene expression making way for something more sinister. His smile
twisted into an outright leer, and his pale green eyes seemed to burn of their
own accord, the candlelight no longer just a reflection in them. He lowered to
one knee and reached out his hands in supplication as he sneered, “Please, will
you marry me, my lady?” The emphasis on the last word ensured that
Alaina felt the insult.

Lord Finch was quickly joined by his friends, their idiocy knowing no bounds, all of
them dropping to their knees in a chorus of marriage proposals, each more
mocking and infuriating than the last. Soon laughter rang loudly in Alaina’s
ears as the men and then the onlookers seemed to find amusement in her
predicament. Her world blurred through a sheen of tears, the faces of the
laughing men—now resembling something like demons—the only clear points in her
vision.

Alaina glanced about to find her mother and threw herself into her open arms,
shielding her from the worst of the crowd. The two women made their way to the
outer edge of the ballroom and quickly to the front entrance, only stopping a
moment to gather their cloaks before heading out into the cool night. Her
father, having had the forethought to make his way to the exit, met them in the
front drive, where he had already called for their carriage to be brought
around, and not a moment too soon.

The Sinclair family hastened into the carriage, a pall falling on them as the
conveyance made its way onto the main thoroughfare and toward their London
townhome. Alaina squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the clip clop of the
well-matched team of four, grateful for the silence of her parents, as she let
tears make their way unchecked down her cheeks.

 

 
 
 

R. K. Harrington is a debut historical romance author,
combining swoon-worthy romance with a bit of mystery. Her first novel, Kindred
Schemes, is scheduled to be released February 2026.

In 2021, R. K. Harrington found that her daydreams were
yearning to spill over to the written page, and, ever since, has been writing
historical romance with a dash of mystery in hopes of publishing her work one
day. After much editing, and long hours designing, she is gearing up to release
her first novel, with many more to come!

R. K. Harrington grew up reading romance novels at a (maybe
too) young age, and the stories entranced her. Give her a Happily Ever After
(HEA) and there is no better book in the world. While romance books (namely
historical romances) are her first love, R. K. Harrington is an avid reader of
all genres. She has gone through many phases: medical mysteries, crime dramas,
science fiction, romantasy, and is currently in a fantasy phase (she does do
the occasional non-fiction book as well, namely history). Through every season
of reading, romance books of all kinds are sprinkled liberally.

When R. K. Harrington is not writing or reading (or working
her day job as an engineer), she is having fun with her husband, their kids,
and her very cute dog, a Pembroke Welsh Corgi named Maximus. They all live in
the DMV area, where the summers are hot, the winters are cold, and the two days
of Spring and Fall are beautiful enough to open the windows!

 

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads

 

 

Follow
the tour HERE for special content and a $20 giveaway!

 

 

Enter the Kindred Schemes Giveaway Here

 

COVER REVEAL: Ghostly Returns by Stephanie Hansen

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Ghostly Returns
Stephanie Hansen
(Ghostly Howls, #2)
Publication date: February 10th 2026
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Strange visitors have appeared in Ethel, their clothes and mannerisms jarring against the familiar rhythm of the coastal town. The woman in Orla and Dave’s spare room speaks in archaic phrases and marvels at electric lights, while the silent man staying with Molly and Cormac carries a translucent device that glows with symbols no one recognizes.

As fog rolls in from the sea, bringing with it the now-familiar whispers and cold spots that signal another haunting, the four friends realize they must unravel the temporal mystery before them. The clock tower strikes at midnight, and both past and future hang in the balance.

Add to Goodreads / Pre-order


Author Bio:

Stephanie Hansen is an Imadjinn finalist as well as a PenCraft and Global Book Award Winning Author. Her debut novella series, Altered Helix, released in 2020. It hit the #1 New Release, #1 Best Seller, and other top 100 lists on Amazon. It is now being adapted to an animated story for Tales. Her debut novel, Replaced Parts, released in 2021 through Fire & Ice YA and Tantor Audio. It has been in a Forbes article, hit Amazon bestseller lists, and made the Apple young adult coming soon bestsellers list. The second book in the Transformed Nexus series, Omitted Pieces, released in 2022. Her next novella, Ghostly Howls, releases 2/7/23. She is a member of the deaf and hard of hearing community so she tries to incorporate that into her fiction. https://www.authorstephaniehansen.com/

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / TikTok / Bookbub


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BOOK BLITZ: By Dawn – The 13th House by Martha Wickham

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Horror/paranormal

Date Published: 11-22-2025

Nine Tales. Nine Secrets. All Before Dawn.

In the shadow of Bloomstone
Manor, a dilapidated estate hauntingly known as “Lily Lane”, the veil between
the living and the dead is impossibly thin. This collection of nine paranormal
mystery stories explores inheritances, dark family legacies, and spectral
demands, all bound by the Manor’s enduring, dark influence.

This
Halloween, meet the three students who dare to knock on the door of “The 13th
House”—a black, unnumbered prison that holds the sinister secrets of the
past. Their trick-or-treating leads them to a terrifying collection of
artifacts: a bent spoon, a rusted key, and a doll’s eye. Every artifact is a
clue left by a child who vanished, whispering pleas for help from beyond the
grave. The teens must solve the mystery and free the spirits before the
night’s magic fades, or they might become the next secret the old house
keeps.

Every house has a debt. Every ghost has a tether. Uncover the
restless spirits and broken promises that demand attention and resolution.
When the clock strikes dawn, the secrets settle back into the dust and the
lilies—and it may be too late.


Excerpt

Night of the Spirits 

 

Anthony pushed through the thick brush that had swallowed the old path. His
friends told him the house was hidden somewhere ahead, rumored to be haunted.
When he finally saw it, the place looked half-demolished, with climbing walls
that had paint curling and peeling. Yet every window was perfectly intact.

He
opened the front door. Stale, cold air rushed out, thick with dust. His
footsteps echoed through the empty living room.As he moved down the hallway,
the front door suddenly slammed. He spun around and ran back, and in that
moment, he was sure he heard a whisper: Sam.The door wouldn’t budge. He
was trapped. He tried the windows too none of them opened.

Again, the
whisper came, louder this time. Sam.

“Who’s Sam? I’m not
Sam!” he shouted.

A hiss answered him, followed by footsteps
upstairs. Heart pounding, he raced up the stairs. At the top, he stopped and
listened. The footsteps were clear, moving steadily into an empty room. He
followed them.

Moonlight spilt across the floor through a bare window.
The invisible footsteps crossed the room and came to a stop at the closet.
Inside, there was only a small box containing a single book. The spirits
wanted him to find it; maybe it would explain everything.

He lifted the
book. It was an old, battered ledger. Inside, a name was written: Samuel. He
began to read.I made a promise to the spirits trapped here. One of them is
buried downstairs. I swore I would help free them with my rituals. I study the
occult, and they own a golden statue worth a fortune. It must be used in the
ritual. If I hide it now, I can return for it later. No one alive will see me
take it.

Anthony reached deeper into the box and pulled out a loose page,
a torn sheet from another book. It carried a chant and the instructions for a
ritual to free spirits.A freezing gust swept through the room. Then a booming
voice declared:“Complete the ritual by dawn, or be trapped here
forever!”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked the
spirit.

Once again, he heard footsteps descending the stairs and followed
them. Near the kitchen, the basement door creaked open. He cautiously stepped
down the dark basement steps and saw the cloud-like spirit hovering over a
crypt in the floor, where it looked like a ritual had been started over
someone’s grave. Candles and matches were scattered nearby.

About the Author

 

Martha Wickham has a knack for finding the
ghosts hidden in the dust. A lifelong student of the arcane and the artistic,
Martha has an Associate’s Degree and professional writing credentials, but she
honed her skills in the thrilling shadows of screenwriting and horror. Martha
lives for the secrets that only come out “By Dawn”. You can discover more of
her work, including her newest audiobooks, at your favorite retailer.

Contact Link

Purchase Links

RABT Book Tours & PR

TEASER: Ace by Harley Wylde

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(Savage Raptors MC)

 

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: January 9, 2026

He’s the calm before the storm. She’s the chaos that makes
him feel alive.

 

Marci: Running only works for so long when the devil hunting me wears a badge.
I’ve spent a year hiding behind fake names and cheap motel rooms,
praying I could disappear. Bryson Corners was supposed to be a quiet stop
before I ran again.

Then I walk into The Broken Spoke and meet Ace. He looks at me and I feel
safe… and I believe him. I shouldn’t. Attachment gets people
killed. But every time he touches me, every time he stands between me and the
world, I want to stay instead of run.

Ace: I’ve learned the hard way that peace never lasts. Managing the bar
keeps me steady — until Marci walks in, scared and stubborn and pretending
she doesn’t need anyone. She’s mine before I can stop it.

She’s running from something brutal, and whoever wants her will have to
go through me — and through the Savage Raptors MC. I’ve fought for my
brothers, my patch, my life… but for her?

I’ll burn the world down.

 


An emotional age-gap MC romance full of danger, loyalty, and the kind of love
that takes root and refuses to let go.

 

EXCERPT

Marci

The Honda’s engine ticked while heat faded, each sharp sound far too
loud in the afternoon quiet. I sat behind the wheel, hands locked around the
steering wheel, knuckles white, and counted my breaths the way I’d
trained myself to do whenever panic climbed my throat. One. Two. Three. The
parking lot stretched empty before me except for a single pickup truck near
the building’s entrance, and I’d already checked every mirror
twice to make sure no one had followed me here.

The Broken Spoke hunched low under the Oklahoma sky, weathered boards faded
from sun and storms, neon sign quiet during daylight hours. The whole place
looked tired and rough around the edges, the kind of bar where broken people
carried wounds behind their eyes, where forgetting felt easier than healing.

I peeled my fingers from the steering wheel, joints stiff from the grip.
Shaking returned, small at first, then stronger once my focus locked on the
tremor. Two years of this — two years since I’d walked away from
everything I knew, carrying only a backpack and clothes from a life better
left behind. I learned to hide the tremor. Learned to keep my hands busy, to
move like I belonged anywhere, even on days when my balance barely held.

A Help Wanted sign waited in the window, same place I saw yesterday during a
slow drive through town. I had bartended, waitressed, cleaned houses, taken
any job paying cash, asking no questions. Those jobs kept me fed and moving
forward. My ribs remembered hunger. My heart remembered the way loss hollowed
me out.

I drew a breath rough enough to scrape my throat and reached for the door
handle. One step at a time. Survive first. Trust later.

I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat and checked my reflection in the
rearview mirror. Blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, no makeup except a
touch of lip gloss I’d worried off an hour ago. I looked tired. I looked
like someone who’d been running for too long. But I also looked
ordinary, forgettable, and the point settled heavy in my chest.

The door handle felt slick under my palm as I pushed the door open. Heat
washed over me in an instant, thick afternoon warmth turning every breath into
work. I locked the car — muscle memory by now, even though nothing inside
held any value — and started across the parking lot.

Each step carried a quiet prayer for a place where I could disappear, earn
enough to survive, and not draw attention. Ordinary helped. Forgettable kept
doors from slamming in my face. I clung to both, even when my heart begged for
something more.

Gravel crunched under my sneakers. I kept my gaze moving, scanning the tree
line beyond the building, the road I’d just come from, the shadows under
the eaves where someone could wait unseen. Old habits. Survival instincts kept
me alive this long. I couldn’t let go of those instincts, no matter how
hard I tried to believe safety waited here for me.

The hinges announced my entrance in a drawn-out creak, a sharp warning
dragging tension through my shoulders. Inside, the bar sat dim and cool, the
smell of old beer and wood polish settling over me like a memory I
didn’t know I needed. My eyes took a moment to adjust, shapes forming
slowly from the gloom. Tables and chairs. A long bar, bottles lined up behind
the counter. A jukebox quiet in the corner, waiting for someone brave enough
to wake the music.

A small part of me wanted to collapse into the comfort promised by that
familiar scene. A larger part stayed on guard, ready for danger around every
shadow. Hope and fear fought under my skin, and neither side won.

And a man.

He straightened from a crouch beside a stack of crates, turning toward me in
an unhurried movement conveying complete awareness of his surroundings. Tall
— easily over six feet. Broad through the shoulders from real labor, not
hours in a gym. Dark hair needing a cut, hazel eyes finding mine and holding
my gaze through an intensity strong enough to steal a breath from my lungs.

“We’re closed.” His voice was deep, measured. It
didn’t need to be raised to command attention.

“I saw the sign. The Help Wanted sign. I was hoping to talk to someone
about the position.”

He studied me for a long moment, and I forced myself not to fidget under his
gaze. I’d gotten good at standing still, at appearing calm even when my
pulse was hammering. He set down the clipboard he’d been holding and
walked closer, his movements economical, controlled.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Marci. Marci Robbins.”

“I’m Ace. I manage this place.” He leaned against the bar,
arms crossing over his chest. “You have experience?”

“Yes.” I’d practiced this part, rehearsed what I’d
say. “I’ve bartended before. A few different places over the
years. I’m good with customers, I show up on time, and I’m a hard
worker.”

“Where was your last job?”

The question I’d been waiting for. “A place in San Antonio. Small
bar, nothing fancy. It closed down a few months back, and I’ve been
moving around since then, picking up work where I can find it.”

His gaze hadn’t left my face. He was looking at me the way people looked
when they were trying to see past the surface, searching for whatever you were
hiding. I had seen the same look before — from cops pulling me over for a
busted taillight, from landlords asking for references I could never provide,
from strangers sensing something off and failing to name the source.

“You got any references?” he asked.

“No.” I met his gaze directly. “The owner of my last place
died, and I lost touch with the other employees after it closed. But I can
prove I know what I’m doing if you give me a chance.”

“Why The Broken Spoke?”

“I need work.” Simple. Honest. “I’m new to the area
and this was the first place I saw hiring. I’m not picky about where I
work as long as it’s steady.”

He nodded slowly, leaving me unsure whether anything positive would come from
the moment. My hands wanted to shake again, so I shoved them into my pockets.
The bar felt too quiet around us, just the hum of coolers and the distant
sound of traffic from the road. I’d already mapped the exits — front
door, back door through what I assumed was the kitchen, emergency exit near
the restrooms. Automatic assessment, the kind I did everywhere now.

“Family in the area?”

“No.” The word landed sharper than I wanted. I tried to soften the
moment through a shrug. “Just me.”

Something shifted in his expression, though I couldn’t read the meaning.
He pushed off the bar and stepped behind the counter, reaching for a glass. He
filled the glass from the tap and set the water in front of me.

“Drink,” he said.

I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until the glass was in my hand. I
drank half before I could stop myself, the cool water cutting through the
dryness in my throat. When I lifted my gaze, he still watched me, and a new
intensity in his eyes replaced whatever I’d seen before. Not quite
sympathy. Not quite suspicion. Something in between.

“The work’s hard. Long hours, late nights. We get a rough crowd
sometimes — bikers, locals, people passing through. You have to be able to
handle yourself.”

“I can handle myself.”

“You sure about that?” The question wasn’t challenging,
exactly. More like he was genuinely asking, trying to gauge whether I
understood what I was signing up for.

“I’m sure.”

He studied me for another moment, then nodded. “All right. I’ll
give you a trial shift. Tonight. Be here by six. I’ll show you the ropes
and see how you do. If it works out, the job’s yours.”

 

About the Author

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

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

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

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

Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15

 

Pre-Order Today

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NEW RELEASE BLITZ: Vermont Paradise by Natalie Monteiro

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Title: Vermont Paradise

Author: Natalie Monteiro

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 01/06/2026

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 71200

Genre: Contemporary YA, Romance, contemporary, young adult, family-drama, lesbian, family vacation, campsite, vanlife, dogs, sisters

Add to Goodreads

Description

A camping trip with her family is what Maria was expecting. Long walks with her dog, Maggie, the usual banter with her sister, Tanya, receiving unsolicited survival lessons from her dad, and pep talks of positivity from her mom. But her predictions were only half correct. Never would she expect to spend so much time with anyone else. Especially not a total stranger. A stranger with such a pretty smile and beautiful green eyes. Because that’s the thing about people who you don’t know. They can teach you things that you never knew about yourself.

Excerpt

Vermont Paradise
Natalie Monteiro © 2026
All Rights Reserved

I threw my backpack into the backseat of our blue Subaru Outback and closed the door. I really wanted to slam it, but I had recently taken it upon myself to be less passive-aggressive. Regardless, I shouldn’t show my cards. Mom had practically begged us to be on our best behavior. For Dad’s sake, she had said. It was his idea to go on this family camping trip. Our first one ever. I didn’t know what inspired this idea of his. All I knew was that he thought it would be a good idea to teach us kids about the outdoors. In case we ever got lost in the wilderness or in case there was total collapse of society. The latter seemed to be his greatest fear.

“All set?” my mom asked as she approached the Subaru.

“Yes, my bag is all packed,” I responded.

“Do you know if Tanya is ready?”

Tanya. My lovely older sister. She was the main reason I was dreading this family trip. I tried my best to keep my composure.

“Probably not. You know how she is. Waiting until the last minute to get ready just like Dad.”

“Ugh, I know,” Mom said with a huff. “Your father is still in the shower.”

We were supposed to be on the road by 8:00 a.m., but here we were at 8:20 a.m., still waiting for them. Getting up early was not an issue for me. If anything, I woke up too early. Like today. Five-thirty a.m. was a bit too much, even for me. I knew it was because I had too much on my mind… I just wanted to get this camping trip over with already.

I gave my mom a half smile before passing her by to go back inside. I wanted to say goodbye to my cat, Remy, while I still could. I bet he would enjoy the house all to himself. If anything, he would enjoy being free from Maggie, our four-year-old Australian Shepherd who still had the energy of a puppy. Which, unfortunately for Remy, meant that she wanted to play with him whenever the rest of us were too busy.

It was one of my favorite things about Maggie. How much she loved to play. We could do it for hours. Fetch with her favorite tennis ball or playing with my old, beat-up soccer ball. She even knew how to play hide and seek! But for her, she didn’t really care what we did, so long as we were doing it together. That was why I made sure she was included in this family trip. But truthfully, it was just as much for her sake as it was for mine.

That the one good thing about camping, at least. It was dog friendly.

I opened the kitchen cupboard, hoping to find Remy there. It wasn’t his typical hiding spot, but it definitely wasn’t his most unusual. He was usually to be found under my parents’ bed, but with all the extra commotion this morning, I figured he wanted somewhere quieter.

I was right. There he was, curled up in a tight ball, staring up at me with his bright-green eyes. He gave me a look of “please just let me sleep some more.” Not this time. If only he could understand that he could go back to sleeping in a few minutes, once all of us had left.

He let out a soft meow as I scooped him up and plopped us onto the black pleather couch. I held him tight against my chest, and he nuzzled in, making himself more comfortable. I stroked the long dirty-brown fur on his back, and I could feel him relaxing more deeply. Soon, he closed his eyes as if ready to return to sleep.

If only he knew how lucky he is, not having to endure the family trip that lies ahead.

“Morning, sis!” Tanya screeched from over my shoulder. My entire body jumped in surprise as my heart rate increased. Remy too was disturbed. His eyes jolted open, and he looked direly afraid. I didn’t know if it was from Tanya’s yell or my reaction to it. Either way, it didn’t matter. I was just lucky that he didn’t run away.

“Ready for some family bonding?” she asked with an overly sarcastic tone. It took every bone in my body to not get upset with her. She knew that I startled easily, and I knew that she got pleasure from seeing it happen. I couldn’t fault her for it this time. I could only wonder how I had missed her coming down the stairs.

“Yeah, I’m ready for it if you are,” I said, trying to gauge just how bad of a mood she was in. Out of all the vacations we could have gone on, at least we could agree that this would be very low on the list. Though I knew she wouldn’t handle camping as well as I would.

She mocked me under her breath. “I’m ready if you are,” she muttered to herself in a voice that made me sound stupid. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

I stared at her without an answer. Was she really starting this already?

“God, you’re so annoying. I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck with you in a car, for, what, like four hours?”

“Like three and a half,” I corrected, wanting to add a splash of fuel to the fire.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Close enough.”

I stared at her in make-believe confusion. “Oh, I thought you’d be delighted. It’s less time than you were expecting to spend with me in the car.”

She stared back at me with a dirty grin on her face. “No one likes a know-it-all, Mar. And that’s only one reason why people don’t like you.”

I instinctively clenched my hand into a fist. I usually tried to ignore comments like these from her, but I was getting sick of being her punching bag. Camping would be bad enough on its own. I didn’t need her comments on top of it.

“Aw, what a real shame Tommy didn’t want to come with us. I can’t imagine why. You’re such a charmer. Hey, well, since he’s not coming, why don’t you take all that makeup off? Or are you too insecure to even let your family see what you really look like?”

Remy wasn’t having it. I could only assume he felt the tension. He jumped off my lap and ran up the stairs, probably to hide elsewhere. Anywhere far from here. It made my skin boil hotter. Tanya had ruined my goodbye with him.

She gave me a smirk. “Okay, one: you know Tommy couldn’t take the time off work. And two: you sound like a jealous bitch. It’s not my fault you’re incapable of obtaining a meaningful, long-term relationship. One that’s filled with connection. One that’s filled with love.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure he really loves you. I totally haven’t noticed him flirting with anyone else. Never.”

“That’s it!” She lunged in my direction with her arms at full stretch.

“Girls!” Mom yelled, swinging the front door open and accidentally slamming it into the wall. She stared at where it had hit, clearly upset that it had happened. She turned to give us an angry look of “see what you made me do?”

Tanya’s eyes were locked on mine as she slowly took a step backward. She maintained a glare at me while doing so, making me believe that she really was about to beat the shit out of me. What retaliation had Mom just saved me from?

“It is too early for this much animosity! Please!” Mom seemed unsatisfied that our ongoing tension hadn’t miraculously disappeared into thin air.

“She started it!” Tanya yelled, breaking our deadlock. I felt like I had teleported back to when we were kids. Her five and me four.

“I don’t want to hear it! We have been over this already! I need you two to get along for the sake of your father. This vacation is very important to him.”

I let out a heavy sigh, knowing she was right. “Yes, Mom. It won’t happen again,” I agreed, really hoping that this would be the last of our fighting. But knowing Tanya, Mom’s interference had merely delayed her retaliation, and she didn’t even have a chance to respond.

It was as if Dad had heard his name and was arriving on cue. He bounced down the stairs with a big bag of God knows what in either hand. “All right, all right, all right!” he hummed. “Who’s ready for some camping?” He expressed it in such a way that made the only appropriate answer to be one agreeing with him wholeheartedly.

“Me!” Tanya said, convincingly, taking the words right out of my mouth. It was officially time to put on the good girl show for Dad.

“Me too, Dad!” I said, sounding equally excited.

Mom looked like a wave of relief had been taken off her shoulders. She had nipped our fighting in the bud before Dad could even become aware of it. It was lucky for her, and it was lucky for us. There was no reason to make Dad upset.

“Great! Let’s pack up the car,” he said.

“I already threw my stuff in there,” I explained, alluding to the fact that I had been ready for a while now.

“Okay, well then, you can help me load these bags into the car, and Tanya, you can help your mother fill the cooler.”

I was pretty sure that Mom had already filled it, but I wasn’t going to correct him, and apparently, she didn’t want to either. She just gave him a smile.

I stepped outside. The cool air of the summer morning hit my face. I could already feel the heat from the sun beaming down on top of my head, which meant regardless of the brisk morning air, today was going to be a hot one.

Dad opened the trunk to the Subaru, looking displeased as he noticed the various items that were already loaded in there. He pulled them all out and placed them onto the pavement. I knew too well what he was doing. He needed to load everything in a specific way, making the most space possible. I stood there, watching him, letting him do his thing.

“I’m leaving space here for the cooler,” Dad said, letting me be privy to the inner workings of his mind. He started putting everything back inside, leaving the left side of the trunk open. “Normally, I’d want to put that in first, since it’s so big, but I guess we are going a little wild today.” He paused for a moment, turning to look at me with an amused grin. “Wild! Ha!”

Oh, Dad.

“Good one,” I said with a soft chuckle, mainly because of his reaction to the pun and not the pun itself. Off to the wilderness we went.

Mom and Tanya came out the front door of the house. They each had a handle to the cooler in one hand as they walked carefully toward us. Dad rushed over to meet them. He swiftly took it into his possession, carried it the rest of the way to the car, and slid it into its rightful spot.

“Great,” he said, satisfied. “Now to get the last-minute items.”

“I’ll open up the garage,” Mom said, as if she also knew Dad’s process. I let them handle the rest as I went back inside to retrieve Maggie.

“Mags!” I hollered, entering the house, but she was already patiently waiting at the door for me. Her eyes were wide, and she panted. She started doing circles around me. She hated being alone. Even if it was for a second.

“Do you want to go for a car ride?” I asked, and she stopped in her tracks. This devolved into her running around me even faster than before. She threw in some kind of silly-looking bunny hops. I let out a wholesome laugh at her utter cuteness.

“Okay, good girl! Sit,” I commanded. Her listening skills were great, just like I had trained them to be. I connected her turquoise collar to its matching leash. Together, we did a final walk around the house making sure that I had packed up everything Maggie would need. Her water bowl, her container of food, the bag of treats, and her blanket. They were nowhere to be found, which meant that I had successfully packed them all into the car.

I eyed her bin of toys, opting to bring one more with us. I hadn’t wanted to get it dirty, but I changed my mind. She’d be happy to have her favorite stuffed pickle available to chew during the car ride, so I picked up the soft green blob, and she excitedly mouthed it out of my hand. I smiled down at her, letting her carry it the rest of the way.

“Does anyone need anything else from inside?” I hollered to my family as I opened the front door once more. With overwhelming nos from the family, I locked the door behind me and joined the rest of them at the rear of the car.

They had made fast work. The trunk was now stuffed, with the cooler barely visible behind all the additional items around it. From what I could tell at a glance, they had added in the tents, a propane stove, and camping chairs. With how full the trunk was, it looked like we were going on a two-week trip, but luckily for me, we’d only be gone for the next five days.

With everything all set, we hopped into the car. Dad as the driver, Mom as the copilot, me sitting behind Dad, and Tanya seated behind Mom. Then, of course, there was Maggie, who was half on my lap and half on the middle seat. She shoved Pickle in my face, making me do nothing but smile.

I said a mental goodbye to Remy, and the house at large, as the garage door closed and we began to drive away.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Natalie Monteiro lives in Central Massachusetts where she enjoys embracing her creativity in whatever form it takes. From writing, to singing, to painting. Natalie also works as a biological research scientist in her daily life. She achieved a Master of Science in Pharmacology from the University of Minnesota and a Bachelor of Science in Neuroscience from the University of New Hampshire. Throughout her years of schooling, her creative roots never stopped calling to her, which ultimately resulted in her debut novel Vermont Paradise. It is her hope that Vermont Paradise can serve as a reminder for all to follow their passions. May the process bring much happiness.

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BOOK BLITZ: With These Hands by T.R. Motley

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Crime Thriller

Date Published: December 3, 2025

At the age of 13, Aurelia’s entire life changes when her parents
begin to align themselves with the Juarez Cartel, running drugs and
trafficking women through Rio Bravo, their small town off the Rio Grande
River. Determined to get away from this life, Aurelia collects years of
evidence on the cartel.

At the age of 17, she is forced to run when her parents arrange a marriage to
a cartel member. After working with the FBI to take down most of the cartel,
she is placed in a protection program. Unbeknownst to her, the Juarez Cartel
has rebuilt and is stronger now than before.

In a twist of fate, Aurelia is kidnapped, forced to marry Diego, son to the
leader of the cartel, and produce an heir. Diego, who becomes an unseen ally,
along with Aurelia begin to align themselves with individuals throughout
Mexico to take down the cartel. They will fight, blackmail, and kill to
protect those they love.

In an act of desperation, Diego makes the ultimate sacrifice and enlists the
help of Daniel Zimmerman, a U.S. FBI agent and Aurelia’s first love. On
the day of the raid, will everyone make it out of Mexico alive?

About the Author

T.R. Motley. I have lived in Oklahoma all of my life. For the last 28
years now, I have dedicated my life to taking care of my family and other
families as a nurse. I worked in the Pediatric ICU for 25 years taking care of
extremely sick children. There were highs, when I was able to place a child in
his parent’s arms after a being on life support to watch the smile on both of
their faced for a very long time. There were lows, when I placed a child in
their parent’s arms, which would be the last time they would ever hold them.

My love of books started as a teen when life was not the best, and I would
place myself in the characters shoes and get lost in the story. As an adult,
it was my escape from reality in a sometimes cruel world. Along the way, my
own stories began to swirl in my head. I always wanted to put those stories on
paper, but needing to be a responsible adult, took the safe route.

On my last week in the PICU, my fellow coworkers and I went on a float trip.
Several people asked if we had it to do over again, would we still have become
a nurse. Surprisingly, only two people said they would. When going around and
asking what everyone would have done instead, I said I would have become an
author. Silence ensued for a minute, before there was a chorus of, “Go for
it!” Two months later, I did a ton of research and started my first novel.
Seven months later, I had a completed piece of work. Months of beta reading
and changes along with and editor, helped round out what my book has become.

Now, twenty years later, I am pursuing that dream of storytelling.

Aurelia’s story is about overcoming any obstacle, even when being pushed down
from every angle for most of her life. It is about seeing some of the worst
circumstances in life, facing those head on and fighting back to make her life
better. It is about believing that just because you were born into a certain
life, you can fight for what you want and make your way out. It is about
finding love in the worst circumstances and having life ripped away once more.
It is about a woman fighting in a man’s world and excelling. It is about
finding friends in the misted of tragedy and realizing sometimes people will
fight for you just as hard.

We see the mark drug cartels not only leave on the U.S. and Mexico in general,
but in the lives of real people. We see how easy human trafficking and
bringing drugs in from Mexico can be. We learn that people are so greedy for
power and money, that they allow these things to happen. People that should
protect us. This is a powerful story of how Aurelia, who is immersed into this
world, not only fights for herself, but others who have been drug in along
with her. There are powerful characters that Aurelia meets along the way who
join forces to not only help her with this fight but become the family she
never had.

This is a romantic suspense novel, appropriate for ages 18+ (adult only).

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BOOK BLITZ & GIVEAWAY: Ceremony of Innocence by Stephen Asher

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Literary / Historical Fiction

Date Published: 12-02-2025

Publisher: Scrivener Quill

It is June 1924 when an inquisitive but skeptical Gemma Danforth
graduates from Wellesley College. Despite a loving family, an idyllic New
England girlhood, and family summers in the Hamptons, little had assuaged her
doubts Now, with college behind them, she and two classmates leave America
bound for post war France where they will be immersed in the pulsating culture
of European modernism. While in France, she reunites with her Paris based
parents, and, in Nice, amidst its creative ferment, she falls in love with
Rhys, a British aristocrat and ex-pat journalist. During this year spent along
the Cote d’Azur, encounters with Sara and Gerald Murphy, Somerset
Maugham, Zelda, Isadora Duncan and others, adds a depth and richness to the
ambience of le midi. And so begins the process of displacing her doubts.

She and Rhys return to American where their values collide with antithetical
and alien attitudes. It is these experiences that come to challenge long-held
beliefs and provide a vivid counterpoint to their recent immersion in the
Modernist aesthetic and world view.

Resolved to return to France, Gemma shares a final day in America with Gerald
Murphy at his ocean front Hampton estate. As this unhurried afternoon unfolds,
it becomes clear that Gemma’s skepticism and doubtfulness have been
replaced with a clear-sighted maturity and hardened resolve. The next morning,
aboard the Ile de France, Gemma and Rhys sail for France.

 

About the Author

Stephen Asher is a graduate of UCLA and was subsequently educated at the
University of Rochester School of Medicine, University of California San
Francisco, and St. Catherine’s College Oxford. His professional life was
spent as a neurologist, often walking the fine line separating the mind from
the brain, a vantage point which encouraged a perspective molded not only by
the scientific and the rational but also shaped by the aesthetics of the
senses. It is this unity of world view that fashions one of the novel’s
central themes.

Asher and his wife were drawn to Idaho’s arid vistas, glistening rivers,
and rugged skylines. As a travelling angler, he has pursued Atlantic salmon
throughout their natural range, has sought sea run brown trout in Patagonia,
and steelhead in his home waters in the Pacific Northwest. He and his wife
have cycled much of France, and, during quiet times at home, he enjoys music
and plays cello.

Previously, he has published essays, and short pieces in the British sporting
literature. He is a member of the F. Scott Fitzgerald Society, the Barbara Pym
Society, and is a proud supporter of PEN America. He lives in Idaho with his
wife, adult children, and his bird dogs.

 

Contact Links

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TEASER TUESDAY: The Dhampir by Angela Knight

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A Destined Mates Vampire Romance Novella


Dark Fantasy Romance

Date Published: January 2, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

An ancient vampire, Hunter can command any woman he wants — except the
one woman he needs. His mate.

Genevieve Drake is a Dhampir — half vampire, half mortal, born and bred to be
the perfect complement to her vampire mate, like those of her family for
sixteen generations. Instead, she chose to become a cop. Three months ago she
survived a vicious attack by a psychotic ex that left her with psychic scars
and a desperate need for a new line of work. Time to rethink her future.

Hunter is tall, dark and handsome — and very, very powerful. He’s also
been waiting for Genevieve. She was just eighteen when he had a vision that
they’d one day become lovers. He’s been biding his time ever
since. But Genevieve’s experiences have left her unable to trust any
man, even Hunter.


If he wants them to have a future, the vampire will have to find a way to
banish her ghosts…

Excerpt

Copyright ©2026 Angela Knight


The vampire’s bodyguard was sloppy when he searched Genevieve Drake. He
missed at least three places where she could have stashed weapons. Would have
stashed weapons, if she hadn’t been going to an interview for a job she
desperately needed. To add insult to injury, he smirked up at her when he
crouched at her feet to pat her down, hands lingering on her thighs and
calves.

Genevieve gave serious thought to kneeing him in the jaw.


Finally, after a last knowing leer, the guard ushered her into Hunter’s
sprawling office, then closed the heavy double doors and left them alone.


“Ms. Drake.” Tall, radiating a power that made her Dhampir senses
vibrate like harp strings, the vampire stepped around his big rosewood desk to
shake Genevieve’s hand, his grip careful and warm. His touch sent a flush of
magic radiating up her arm. Her mouth went dry, and she felt her nipples peak.
“It’s a pleasure.”


Her body’s intense response surprised her. She’d felt dead from the neck
down for months. “Please call me Genevieve, Mr. Hunter.” Not Genny. Never
Genny. Smiling up at him, she used all her years undercover to keep her
expression no more than pleasantly professional.


“It’s just Hunter,” the vampire said in a black velvet purr of a voice.
He gave her a slow, white smile, his eyes the sharp and startling blue of an
arctic wolf. His features were starkly masculine, with a long swoop of a nose
and a broad, square chin. His hair was thick and black, just long enough to
touch his collar.


He gestured her away from his desk toward two armchairs that sat facing
each other. Just beyond the chairs, a plate glass window ran the length of the
room. Sixty stories below, the glittering glory of Atlanta spread across the
night.


As Hunter ushered her to the chairs, Genevieve studied him. If anything,
the vampire was more impressive than she remembered. Easily six-foot-two, he
had a powerful build that made him look like a warrior even camouflaged in
black Armani. His tie was a splash of crimson against his white shirt, while
cufflinks of onyx and gold adorned his French cuffs.


“It’s good to see you again,” Hunter said as they sat. The chairs were
positioned so close, their knees almost touched. It was not exactly the
arrangement she’d have expected for a job interview — but then, this was not
a typical job interview. “You were what — fifteen? — when last I saw you.”


“Sixteen,” Genevieve corrected. And madly infatuated with you. But that
was something she had no intention of sharing. And anyway, it had been
fourteen years ago.


Before Gary. Before she’d been left bleeding in a dirty alley with the
last of her illusions in shreds.


Hunter probably knew about her painfully intense crush. Probably knew
about Gary, too, for that matter. As her father always said, you can’t hide
anything from a vampire, so don’t even try. “It was good of you to grant me
this interview.”


“Not at all. I need an assistant, and you have excellent
qualifications.” He watched her settle back into the chair’s soft wine red
leather. His gaze sharpened. “Something concerns you.”


Genevieve hesitated, caught between her desire not to offend and her
sense of duty. She needed the job, but her family had been Dhampir for sixteen
generations.


Duty won. “Your bodyguard was more interested in feeling me up than in
making sure I wasn’t armed. I could have knocked him cold at least twice. In
my opinion, he constitutes a security risk.”

Hunter lifted a cool black brow. “He’s a former Navy SEAL.”

“And a current idiot.”


“You are blunt, bordering on rude.” Hunter smiled, satisfaction in his
eyes. “And every bit as fearless as I would have expected of Tommy Drake’s
daughter.”

She relaxed back into her chair. “Well, that’s a relief.”


“That I took the criticism well?” His arctic eyes heated to burning blue
as he watched her cross her legs. Her knee inadvertently brushed his, and the
contact sent magic flaring up her thigh. Straight into her sex.


She tried to ignore the pulse of erotic heat that flared low in her
belly. “No, I’m relieved you ordered your man to play the fool to test my
honesty. I’d hate to think you’d hire someone that sloppy.”


The vampire laughed, a deep, masculine rumble, seductive and warm. “No,
I have not survived three hundred and forty years by surrounding myself with
sloppy bodyguards. And there’ve been times even careful ones…” Hunter
stopped and rolled his powerful shoulders as if shrugging off a painful
memory.


“Sometimes it doesn’t matter how careful or well-trained you are.”
Genevieve’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Especially if you’re betrayed.”


He studied her, going still as a predator. Seeing too much. “The scars
from betrayal go to the soul. And they never quite fade, do they?”


“Not so far.” Genevieve forced a smile and deliberately sought to turn
the conversation back to business. “What are you looking for in a personal
assistant?”

You, Hunter thought.

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for
Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

 

Author Links

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Author on Twitter

 

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

Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15

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TEASER: Spirit Bear Conspiracy by Anne Kane

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Brotherhood of the Wild 1

A Riptide MC Romance

MC Romance

Date Published: January 2, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

My mission: Save my woman, guard the secret of the rare spirit bear, and
take down the poachers.

Ryland — I was tailing a gang of poachers, certain they’d lead me
straight to their kingpin, when a stray arrow from a crossbow slammed into me.
Pain lanced through me and everything faded to black. In that blur of
unconsciousness, I could have sworn a pure white bear stood over me, calm as
can be. When I opened my eyes again, a woman — curvy and impossibly beautiful
— was watching me with the cutest look of mixed concern and distrust on her
face.

Kimberly — I thought I was alone on a tiny island off the coast of British
Columbia until an arrow from a crossbow barely missed skewering me. With my
dog Diego at my heels, I ran to hide in a maze of caves, my heart pounding.
Crouched down in the dark, I listened in terror as voices and footsteps
floated to me from outside. I prayed the shooters wouldn’t find the
spirit bear that inhabited this place. When I finally crept back out into the
daylight, I found I wasn’t the only target — but the unconscious man
lying in a pool of his own blood wasn’t talking. Victim or one of them?


Excerpt
Copyright ©2026 Anne Kane

Ryland

A sudden squawk of alarm sounded directly in front of me. The quiet morning
exploded into sound as a covey of startled pheasants took flight.

Damn! I was hiding in the thick brush off the side of the path, out of sight
of my quarry, but right behind the fucking birds. One of the poachers turned,
aiming a crossbow straight at the panicked birds. Straight at me.

Double damn.

I ducked low to the ground, hoping to avoid detection. My handgun was nestled
in its shoulder holster, and a couple of my favorite throwing knives were
strapped to my thighs but there were six poachers and one of me. Not sure why
they were using crossbows instead of firearms. Maybe they wanted to avoid
making any noise that might bring attention to their presence, but I
couldn’t imagine who they thought might hear them on this deserted piece
of dirt off the coast of British Columbia.

Even without guns, though, the odds were against me. I braced myself as the
arrow arced its way toward me.

Moving to avoid the projectile wasn’t an option. I couldn’t afford
to let the poachers detect my presence. My mission depended on them not
knowing they’d been made.

The shooter had already turned back to catch up with the rest of the group
when the sharp tip of the projectile sliced through the meaty outer part of my
upper arm. I gritted my teeth as blood spurted from the wound.

Son of a bitch, that hurt.

Still, it was a lucky shot — a flesh wound, even if a painful one. I’d
had worse. Just one foot to the left and it would have gone straight through
my heart. A broadhead arrow could prove fatal under the right circumstances.

The flapping of the pheasants’ wings made so much racket that it drowned
out any noise I made as I lowered myself to the ground, grimacing at the red
stain spreading on my sleeve. I needed to staunch the bleeding. Like it or
not, the chase was over for today.

I glanced down at my watch. I was cutting it close. I needed to get back to my
boat and report in. If William didn’t hear from me on schedule,
he’d send the troops storming in to find me and that would blow any
chance we had of learning what these guys were up to.

I leaned back against a moss-covered tree stump in the center of the bushes.
The sound of the poachers joking amongst themselves as they retreated let me
know my presence hadn’t been detected.

Well, at least that was a positive.

I’d been tailing these jerks for almost a week now, ever since an
anonymous tip-off to the Operations Center had clued William in on their
activity in this neck of the woods. When they’d landed on this island
though, I was baffled. What could there possibly be here that would interest
an international ring of poachers? If they’d been farther north or on
the mainland, I would have assumed they were going after bears for their
saleable parts, a lucrative business these days. Bear gall was in high demand
in the traditional Chinese medicine markets for its supposed healing
properties. Bears were territorial creatures, though. On an island this small,
the chances of finding more than one were slim, assuming you even found one.
Hardly worth the effort of getting here.

Wincing, I shifted my weight slightly to take the pressure off my injured arm.
I didn’t dare leave my hiding spot, not yet. I needed to be sure the
poachers didn’t circle back. They were a nasty bunch, not above killing
someone if they thought they could get away with it.

I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth against the pain lancing through my arm.
The slow drip of water hitting the rocks beside me had a mesmerizing effect.
Or was it the blood from the wound?

I pivoted my head to look at my injured arm. Despite the copious amounts of
blood staining my shirt and the ground beneath me, the wound didn’t
appear serious. The flow of the blood would have cleaned out any foreign
debris, and the arrow had missed hitting the artery.

Yup, I’d definitely had worse.

Using my good arm, I pulled a knife out of the sheath strapped to my thigh and
sliced a large swath of fabric from the front of my shirt to use as a
makeshift bandage. A tight compress would staunch the bleeding long enough for
me to make my way back to the mainland and get it taken care of properly.

I struggled to remove my belt, the worn leather creaking and groaning in
protest as I pulled it loose.

It should not have taken that much effort. Maybe I’d lost more blood
than I thought. Didn’t matter. I wasn’t dying, and the mission
took precedence over a little discomfort.

The reason we had decided to investigate this group was the anomalies. This
was one loaded group of badass poachers. Normally poachers were a solitary
bunch, untrusting and cynical in the extreme. Finding two or three teamed
together to go after larger prey wasn’t uncommon but teaming up like
these guys were doing was totally out of character.

I’d been following them since they’d arrived from Hong Kong and
met up with a local guide of questionable repute. It was evident that the
meeting had been scheduled ahead of time. Prior to heading north, the five
stayed at the Vancouver Airport Hotel for the night. That meant they had money
behind them. They’d rented a Jeep and driven to their staging area,
where they parked the Jeep in a forestry site lot on the coast. A fully
stocked boat, complete with captain, was waiting for them, and they motored
straight to this little island.

That was a considerable amount of effort just to reach this deserted piece of
land in the Pacific Ocean. If not for the bug I’d managed to plant on
one of the poachers at the airport, I would have lost contact with them. It
was impossible to track a boat on the open ocean without visual sightings, so
stealth required electronic solutions.

It would take someone with local knowledge to even find the island. It
certainly didn’t show on international maps, and as far as I knew it
wasn’t big enough to have a formal name, just a number on the navigation
grid. That still didn’t explain what the attraction was, though. Given
the people involved, there had to be some tie-in to the illegal poaching
running rampant in this part of Canada. I just needed to figure out what it
was.

I’d heard rumors one of the protected spirit bears inhabiting one of the
small islands in this area. I knew they were extremely rare, but no one had
been able to verify the story, and I put it down to a myth the locals used to
lure tourists to the area. A quick Google search confirmed that the small
population of spirit bears in this part of the world lived farther north,
around Haida Gwaii.

Surely a group of international thieves would know better than to get taken in
by such a blatant tourist-trapping lie? The parts from such a creature would
be worth a devil’s ransom, but it would be difficult to harvest salable
items from a myth. More likely, they were after something else, something
valuable. But what?

I folded the soft strip of flannel from my shirt and placed it over the wound
on my arm. The bleeding had slowed, a good sign. Gritting my teeth, I wrapped
the belt around the makeshift bandage and pulled it tight.

A searing bolt of pain sliced through the raw wound, and colored dots danced
before my eyes. I concentrated on my breathing as I waited for the throbbing
to subside.

Looked like the wound was worse than I’d thought.

I’d left my medi-kit on the boat, but I’d seen a birch tree a few
lengths back. My grandfather had been a bit of a survivalist and had shown me
how to make a traditional wound dressing from birch bark. That would serve to
dull the pain until I retrieved the medi-kit and the heavy-duty painkillers in
it. I’d outgrown that macho, I-can-take-the-pain stage a long time ago.

I got to my feet, using the massive tree stump to steady myself. For a moment,
the world swam in front of my eyes. Great, just what I needed.

I closed them, waiting for the forest to stop moving. When it did, I pushed
off from the stump, trekking slowly in the direction of the beachhead where
I’d left my boat.

One foot in front of the other. Easy as that. I could do this.

My arm throbbed, and I glanced down. No fresh blood. Good.

I stopped by the birch tree, dropping to one knee. Using a sharp-bladed
hunting knife to slice off a few lengths of bark, I shredded it into fibers
and formed them into a compress. Sucking in a deep breath, I gently placed the
birch bark poultice over the raw flesh and reapplied the dressing, securing it
with the belt.

Resting for a bit to let the pain ease up, I rose to my feet and continued in
the direction of the boat.

Seconds later, I stumbled over a surface root, thudding heavily to my knees.
The loss of blood must have weakened me more than I’d realized, and it
took a long moment before I managed to get back up. I picked up a broken tree
limb, leaning on it for balance.

My focus narrowed. I needed to get to the boat. Keeping my hold on the
makeshift walking stick, I took a step. Better, much better.

The birch bark compress supplied some relief from the pain in my arm.
I’d had worse injuries back in my military days. I could do this.

Concentrate. The boat.

Need to get to boat.

Need to report back in.

Whatever these guys were after, the Brotherhood of the Wild would put a stop
to it. We had the advantage of operating internationally, bypassing local
bureaucracy. And we had money. Money could open doors and make officials look
the other way.

Boat. Need to get to the boat.

I stumbled again, pausing to lean on a tree until my vision cleared.

Clenching my jaw, I pushed myself upright and took one step. Then another.

Leaning heavily on the walking stick, I steadied myself. The notion of balance
seemed to have deserted my brain entirely, and I compromised with a slow
shuffling gait that kept me on my feet and heading in the right direction.
That was really all I needed.

I felt myself start to fall again and reached out for the closest tree. Had I
even made it twenty feet since the last time I’d had to reach for a
tree? Maybe. But not much farther.

I took a deep breath and tried to clear my head. Nope. Wasn’t going to
work this time. Never mind. I just needed to keep moving in the direction of
the boat. That was all.

Just keep moving.

About the Author

Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue
dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many
fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but
finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate
was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and
just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then
she has published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all
with a happily ever after.

She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending
time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing
with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing
guitar, singing and of course, reading.

 

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

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BOOK BLITZ & GIVEAWAY: Elmer Kelton’s The Blessing by John Bradshaw

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Western Adventure, Historical Mystery

Date Published: 12-03-2025

Publisher: Devil’s Claw Press

Hewey Calloway, Elmer Kelton’s favorite footloose cowboy, has
always been known to have a generous nature, readily giving to those in need.
Time has finally mellowed Hewey and given him some wisdom that was lacking in
his youth, but deep down, he’s still the same old Hewey. In this sequel
to The Smiling Country, a beneficiary to one of Hewey’s past
generosities pays him back, and with interest. Knowing Hewey would decline a
monetary repayment, he is gifted land back in Upton County.

Trouble is, it was bought from his old adversary, Fat Gervin, who is still as
crooked as ever. Gervin finds a seeming loophole in the contract and tries to
pull another fast one on Hewey, who is fed up with Gervin’s endless
treachery. Tensions rise, and when Gervin is shot, it’s Hewey
who’s on the hook for the crime. But things are never as they seem, and
it’s up to an eclectic cast of characters to sort it out, and for Hewey
to learn what’s really important in life.

Written by longtime journalist turned novelist John Bradshaw, who was selected
by The Elmer Kelton Estate to continue the Hewey Calloway tradition.

 

About the Author

John Bradshaw is a native of the small town of Abernathy, Texas. He is
an award-winning journalist with well over a thousand published stories. Elmer
Kelton’s The Familiar Stranger, co-authored with Steve Kelton, is his
first book.

Bradshaw attended South Plains College followed by Texas Tech University. He
spent several years shoeing horses for a living as his writing career
progressed.

While the desire to write books was always there, Bradshaw first pursued a
career in journalism. He wrote numerous stories for ranching, horse and
horseshoeing magazines.

Growing up, Livestock Weekly came in the mail once a week, as it does for most
in the livestock industry. Writing for Livestock Weekly was always a goal, and
in 2005 Bradshaw’s first story was published. It was a profile of
Brownie Metzgar, a humorous cowboy still working in a feedlot while in his
late 80s.

In 2007 Bradshaw accepted a fulltime position with Livestock Weekly. While
with the paper he had over a thousand stories published, as well as enough
market reports to give him permanent nightmares.

Horses have always played an important role in his life. The son of a
horseshoer, he has spent a significant amount of time either on or under a
horse. He still shows in both ranch horse and reined cow horse competitions.

He and his wife, Sara, live outside Abernathy. Sara owns an architecture firm,
SK Architecture Group, and they raise Spanish goats, hair sheep and cattle.

In 2013 the couple had a stillborn son, Fox Joaquin Bradshaw. After several
years of heartbreak they adopted an infant boy, whom they named Julian Boone
Bradshaw. Boone died in his dad’s arms following an accident at the barn
five days before his sixth birthday.


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