2. I am a woman who, one day, fell in love with the least likely person.
3. I am a woman who faced the worst aspects of herself—and vows to never
go back.
Briseis Cunningham—plain and ordinary!
After the 2024 Presidential Election, Briseis, a patriotic tour guide, felt
like she wanted to take a tour of her own city of Philadelphia, looking for
resolution in the past. While sitting on the tour bus, she has flashbacks of
the last three summers, and what was occurring in her country at the time.
Weighted down by the worries of the choice her nation just made, she undergoes
a great deal of soul searching.
Beginning with one summer, in 2022, she accepts a job, working at the
Philadelphia Chinese Lantern Festival. While there, she meets all the talented
performers, but one stands out the most: Jin Chang, a Face Changer.
From there, it all begins!
Follow the tale of an American woman who stumbles on love for a man from
another side of the world… and while also having to come to terms with
what has just happened in the United States, her fear of the loss of the
American Experiment, and her worries of where her country is headed.
About the Author
Hello, readers! My name is B. J. Quander, and I am an American Revolution
history enthusiast, who has always been compelled to learn about the origins
of the United States of America, as well as the countries that created it,
that have inspired it, and the native nations that this land belongs to.
I also have a great respect for the constitution, the law, and strictly
upholding it. After all, many of my fellow Americans, along with other nations
who have helped us, have died for the American Experiment to live. Being a
native Philadelphian, I have felt the tie that connects us back to the
foundations of a war that was fought on principles of a free government and
defiance against unchecked authoritarianism. Did we fail? Plenty of times. But
the dream still was there, and it felt real. Or it did once. This book I wrote
is about a heroine who worries about the sun setting on our nation, as opposed
to the sun rising on it, while also being willing to fall in love. Thank you
for stopping by.
Abducted J.S. Ash (The Beast’s Burden Chronicles, #1) Publication date: February 22nd 2026 Genres: New Adult, Science Fiction, Young Adult
Trapped aboard a living spacecraft hidden above her hometown, a teenage outcast must wage a one-girl war against ruthless alien mercenaries to save her best friend before the ship jumps into deep space.
A SHIP FULL OF ALIENS TOOK HER BEST FRIEND. THEY SHOULD’VE LEFT HER ON EARTH.
Abigail Ashby was raised to be a weapon by a dad convinced the world was on the brink of collapse. Then, inexplicably, he forced her into early retirement—aka high school.
These days, Abigail’s only battle is defending Harris, her outcast best friend who swears his parents were abducted by aliens. She’s secretly sure he’s delusional—right up until his bedroom explodes in amethyst light.
They wake up aboard the Beast’s Burden, an interstellar warship lurking above their town. Its leader, a sadistic warlord, seizes Harris as his prize, while Abigail slips away in the chaos—overlooked, underestimated.
Until she kills an alien to survive.
Now, hunted through the ship’s living corridors, Abigail must decide: retreat into the shadows, or unleash the lethal training she buried to wage a one-girl war and save everything she’s ever known… Because Harris isn’t just a hostage. He’s the trigger for humanity’s extinction.
“Wait—I’m sorry. Abigail, I didn’t mean that. Please don’t go.”
Abigail froze in her tracks, but it had nothing to do with Harris’s plea. An unearthly shriek had erupted, ricocheting endlessly around the room, and all the warmth had instantly drained from her body.
“What is that?” she asked, ice surging through her veins.
Harris looked like he had seen a ghost. “I have no idea, but it’s coming from—”
With a deafening crack, four dark spheres shot out from underneath the bed and slammed into the corners of the room. Abigail watched, petrified, as the spheres oozed apart, spreading to cover the walls in a thick layer of disgusting sludge.
“You’re seeing this, right?” she said, voice trembling.
Harris nodded slowly, and Miss Biscuits started howling.
The ghastly sound reached a new ear-piercing level as the sludge began crackling with unstable amethyst purple energy.
“We need to get out of here!” Abigail shouted. She dashed for the window, but the light glittering across its surface flared violently in response, and she recoiled, backing away slowly.
The shriek was becoming unbearable. Abigail could hardly hear herself think, let alone process what was happening.
“This way!” shouted Harris as he lunged for the bedroom door, but the pulsing glow surrounding the handle suddenly sparked, jumping eagerly to his outstretched hand.
Amethyst purple light rippled through Harris’s entire body, shining beneath his skin. Abigail watched in horror as an unnatural smile slowly twisted across his face.
“Harris?” she said cautiously.
Harris’s head swiveled toward Abigail and his morbid grin twisted into fear. The amethyst purple light erupted out of his skin, contorting him backwards into a jagged arch. His body was suddenly blasted onto the ceiling, held there for a moment by an invisible force before dropping sharply to the ground, the impact kicking up a cloud of dust from the hardwood.
“Harris!” Abigail screamed, rushing to his motionless body. This was a nightmare. Everywhere she looked the amethyst purple light was encroaching—over the ceiling, across the walls, and covering the floor, inching right for them. Abigail scrambled to grab Harris under his arms and used every ounce of her strength to drag him onto the bed, only just avoiding the energy as it engulfed the remainder of the room’s surfaces.
“Harris, wake up!” she shouted as she checked for a pulse.
“Abby!?” came a muffled cry.
She strained to see Taylor pounding outside the window, an uncharacteristically horrified expression on his face through the amethyst-colored glare. He took a step back and then charged, but the barrier flared the moment his shoulder made contact, and he was repelled away in a shower of shattered glass.
Abigail’s eyes darted around the room, her fear mounting as the shrieking hit yet another plateau. Blood pounded in her ears. “Harris, wake up. Please wake up!” she pleaded, her voice barely audible over the howling of Miss Biscuits and everything else.
The sludgy spheres had re-formed in the corners of the ceiling and they were pulsing erratically. They seemed to be the source of whatever was happening—what was happening?!—perhaps they could be shut down somehow… But how? Abigail grabbed Harris’s hand, hopelessly begging him to wake up, and her fingers made contact with a ripple of raised skin—the scar.
Abigail’s gaze snapped to the samurai sword hanging on the wall. Scrambling to her feet, she ripped it from its mount and unsheathed it. The gleaming blade appeared as sharp as it had all those years ago.
“Abby! Abby! What are you doing?!” Taylor’s voice cut through the chaos. He was back on his feet just outside the shattered window. He was holding up a small metallic object that Abigail couldn’t quite make out through the amethyst refraction. She didn’t have time for this. The high-pitched shriek was growing more and more deafening, the amethyst-colored light burning ever more severely. Instinctively, she knew it was now or never. She had to disrupt whatever was happening.
She frantically scanned the spheres, her entire body shaking. Though she had no clue this would work, the one in the corner by the door seemed like her best shot. “You can do this,” she said to herself, but she didn’t remotely believe it. Gathering all her strength, she sprinted towards the edge of the bed, leaping into the air with the hilt held firmly in her grasp. With a loud clang, the sword sliced through the sphere, miraculously penetrating the energy barrier and lodging in the wall.
As gravity pulled Abigail toward the floor, time seemed to slow, and she watched the damaged sphere start to skitter in and out of reality, spewing sparks in all directions like it was about to explode. The blinding amethyst light and eardrum-bursting shriek reached their crescendos just before Abigail hit the ground.
She felt a surge of pure agony, and then, there was nothing.
Author Bio:
J.S. Ash has spent over a decade working in media at one of the largest tech companies in the world, though his true love remains storytelling. His creative DNA was forged in the 90s—a blend of blockbuster action cinema, console gaming, and the high-stakes melodrama of the era’s teen soaps. He lives with his wife and daughter, who serve as the primary inspiration for the resilient, protective heroines at the heart of his stories.
Lysandra has spent her life in a silk cage, dancing for a monster who sees her
hybrid blood as the key to tearing open the veil between worlds. She is
half-Fae, half-mortal, a living anomaly trained to suppress every flicker of
power that could expose what she truly is.
Then they send a Destroyer to end her.
Rylan is the Order’s most lethal weapon, forged without mercy, raised without
attachment, sworn to eliminate hybrid corruption wherever it breathes. His
mission is simple: observe, confirm, and execute.
But some targets refuse to be prey.
When the tether breaks and Lysandra’s power erupts beyond all control, she and
Rylan are thrown into a deadly alliance that will force them both to betray
everything they were made to be. He will break sacred oaths. She will shatter
the chains of her gilded prison. Together, they will ignite a love so
consuming it will literally rewrite the laws of death.
Midnight Ballerina is a dark romantasy of obsession, sacrifice, and a
bond forged in blood and shadow, where the monster you were raised to fear
becomes the only one who sees you as more than a weapon.
For readers who crave: Fae romantasy, mortal/immortal romance,
possessive heroes, powerful heroines, found family, he-falls-first, and love
that burns worlds.
About the Author
Jhani Mills is an award-winning, multi-genre author and founder of
publishing imprint, Cipher Veil Publishing. Her work explores power, grief,
devotion,
obsession, and survival across science fiction, thrillers, and speculative
fiction. Midnight Ballerina is her debut romantasy, merging dark fantasy and
romance into a story about breaking oaths, reclaiming power, and choosing love
in defiance of fate.
Ves’s life has always been a troubled one. An orphan growing up on the streets and imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit, Ves knows how bad things can be. When he’s chosen to go before the God of Judgment to be judged for his crimes, Ves knows the result of that will either be insanity or death. Except, Judgment doesn’t go as anyone expected when, instead, the God chooses Ves to be his head priest.
Settling into his new life as priest to a God is strange, but being around Rais, the God of Judgment, is no chore. Spending time together as Ves learns what it means to be a Priest of Judgment is wonderful, until people from Ves’s past realize where he is. Ves must decide whether he wants the past he didn’t realize he had lost, or the future he was just starting to build with Rais. Presuming the other powers at play allow him to live long enough to make that decision.
Ves’s side of the room was small with no windows and a single chair in the center of the stained wood floor. The walls had been white originally but were now a murky shade of brownish gray. The guard behind him grunted pointedly, so Ves made his slow way to the chair. He gratefully sat down and placed his crutch on the floor next to him before looking across his portion of the room to the other side. A high wall separated his dingy room from the court judge in his comfortably padded chair behind a carved wooden desk. The upper half of the wall was open like a long window and high enough anyone from Ves’s side would require a few extra seconds to climb, which was more than enough time for the guard standing behind Ves to stop them. Not that Ves could climb like that, of course, but Ves doubted the judge or the guard cared.
The judge had a steaming mug of tea at one hand, a folio in front of him, and a fancy quill in a stand to his right. The walls in his half of the room were painted a cheery yellow, which augmented the afternoon light streaming in from the glass-paned window.
“You have been recommended for early release,” the judge said. He didn’t look up from the folio, nor otherwise acknowledge Ves was in the room. “Based on your criminal history and your behavior while incarcerated, the court is willing to consider this sentence reduction.”
Ves swallowed down his growing hope, knowing better than to say anything or let any budding happiness show on his face in any way that could be seen by the guards or the judge. In this world of prison bars and shackles, hiding emotion was much safer. Besides, Ves had always been skilled at discerning the truth hidden behind the words. In this case, the truth was the prison was overcrowded and funding was limited. Thanks to his injury, Ves wasn’t likely to repeat the crimes for which he had been convicted, and providing medical care and accommodations for him was expensive. Tossing him out on the street and hoping for the best was far more economical for the courts than keeping him for the full term of his sentence.
“However, there are requirements that must be fulfilled prior to certifying your release,” the judge continued. “Per our laws enshrined in the annals of the divine accolades, first, you must go before the God of Judgment and beg for absolution of your crime. Should the God grant mercy, you will be released from prison. Second, should you be granted release, you will be provided housing for one week, after which you must obtain lawful employment. You must be gainfully employed for the remaining time left on your sentence. A gap of longer than a week is grounds for reincarceration. Third, you will be assigned a liaison officer with whom you must meet weekly. This officer will assess your activities and provide reports to the court regarding whether you should return to prison. Lastly, commission of any crime is grounds for immediate cancellation of your early release.”
The court judge picked up the fancy quill, dipped it in ink, and signed something at the bottom of one of the papers in the folio. He dusted the ink with sand before closing the folio and passing it to someone standing by the door, likely a secretary. Once that was done, he looked at the guard.
“Next case. I would like to have this chore completed in time to be home for afternoon tea.” The judge still hadn’t looked at Ves, more interested in the contents of his cooling teacup as Ves picked up his crutch and struggled to his feet.
Ves followed the guard out the door and back into the prison, trying not to let hope take root in his chest. He had no idea what obtaining a divine Judgment required, but felt safe assuming he didn’t have enough money to bribe the priests in the temple of the God of Judgment to agree to his release. Even if he did manage to get through Judgment, getting a job with his injury was going to be next to impossible. Ves didn’t remember the stabbing or know why he had been targeted by another inmate, just that when he woke in the prison’s medical wing, he had lost the use of his right leg as a result. The leg was still attached, but he could only bend his knee, feel his foot, or wiggle his toes about 10 percent of the time. The other 90 percent, his right foot hung like a deadweight. There was no way to know whether the stabbing had been the cause or whether the incompetent medical care Ves received afterward was the problem, but he was restricted to the speed of his crutch and only had one free hand to carry things while he was upright. Most ex-convicts found work at the docks unloading ships. Ves wouldn’t be able to do that, which limited his options severely. Regardless, even a few days of freedom would be a nice vacation from the hell that was prison.
“Do you know when I’ll be able to request absolution from the God of Judgment?” Ves asked the guard, who grunted in response.
“Today’s Moonsadai. Convict absolution is always the morning of Raisadai, so in two days. Don’t be in a rush to meet this God though.” The guard smirked at Ves. “If you’re lucky, you’ll come back here more injured than you left. If you’re not lucky, you’ll be dead.” Still smirking, the guard stopped at the first set of doors leading into Ves’s shared cell. He pulled a lever, and the first barred door slid aside. Ves stepped through the doorway and the first door slid closed, locking him into the two-by-two-foot space. The guard pulled the lever again, and the second door slid to the side, revealing the nine-by-nine-foot square cell he shared with three other inmates.
The man Ves only knew as Fang grinned at Ves as the second door closed behind him. Both of Fang’s pointed incisors, sharpened prior to his arrest for ripping out chunks of people with his teeth, were prominent in his mouth, so the grin was equally a threat and a welcome.
“Well, you getting out of here?” Fang asked, watching from where he was sitting on his bottom bunk as Ves slowly made his way to the other bunk bed. Ves got the bottom of his bed thanks to necessity, since he couldn’t climb. Fang liked Ves for some reason, so it was thanks to his influence over their other two cellmates that Ves hadn’t been challenged for the better bed.
“I get to have a hearing with the God of Judgment in two days. I’m not sure that means I’m getting out of here though.”
“If you only get to see one of the priests, you’ll be back here in an hour,” Omnit called from where he was flopped out on the bed above Ves.
Fang nodded and ran his hand over his mouth. “Maybe. If you actually get to go into the temple to get a Judgment directly from the God, though, I’ll bet you’ll be freed. You’re one of the noble mistakes, right? I’ve heard the God of Judgment doesn’t care about rank or money, just whether you actually committed the crime.”
“And I’ve heard people who go see the God come back missing limbs or go straight to the crazy house ’cause their heads got messed up instead,” Omnit added. “They spend the rest of their days laughing at blank walls or screaming at the air. Better to see a corrupt priest instead.”
Ves sighed and lay back on the thin mattress, staring up at the straps holding Omnit’s mattress in place. One of the noble mistakes. In the prison system they were so common they had a name, and people who fell into that category tended to receive a bit more leeway from the other inmates. They weren’t usually randomly stabbed like Ves. The guards didn’t care, but Fang had defended Ves on multiple occasions because of it. When nobles broke the law and got caught, that mistake was rectified with money put in the right hands and a scapegoat going to prison instead. Ves hadn’t even had a trial but was now seven years into a fifteen-year sentence, convicted of two attempted rapes, the last one resulting in manslaughter of the victim. He would be turning twenty-one years old in two days, Ves realized as his gloomy thoughts identified something else depressing to focus on. When people reached the age of majority, they visited the temple of the God of Life to pray for guidance as they stepped into adulthood. Hopefully visiting the God of Judgment, instead, wouldn’t be yet another black mark against him.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” Ves finally responded. “The court judge signed some paperwork, so I’ll be dragged to the temple whether I like it or not.”
Fang let out a barking laugh. “That’s the world of the Gods, I guess. All we can do is hope they don’t make us suffer too damned much.”
Before Ves could think of a response, the afternoon klaxon went off, echoing through the prison as it did twice every day—first thing in the morning and now. Ves’s ears continued to ring for a few seconds after the klaxon stopped. By the time he could hear again, he could also hear the squeaky wheel from the meal cart in the hallway. A moment later a slot opened above the small table in the corner, bolted to the wall so they couldn’t move it, and someone pushed four trays filled with their dinner onto it. Omnit scrambled down from his bed and returned holding two trays, one of which he passed to Ves. Fang grabbed a tray, and the fourth man in their cell climbed down from his bunk over Fang to get his as well. The man never spoke, ever, so Ves didn’t know his name, but he also never caused problems, so he wasn’t the worst roommate Ves had endured in his seven years here.
Dinner was boiled chicken, boiled potatoes, and boiled beans, each portioned exactly so every tray had the same amount of bland, lifeless grub. At first, Ves had been excited about the prospect of regular meals, since that wasn’t something he had enjoyed before his incarceration, but that minimal silver lining had faded away fast. He ate the food, tasting nothing the entire time, and let Omnit return the empty tray to the table next to the slot for the workers to remove later. With nothing else to anticipate before the morning klaxon announcing breakfast, Ves curled up on his bed and pulled his thin blanket over his shoulders. Sleeping wouldn’t end his misery or allay his worries about the impending temple visit, but at least he could turn off his brain for a few hours. After seven years of long practice, Ves forced himself to sleep, knowing everything would still be waiting for him to dwell on in the morning.
When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.
Tropes: Rock Star Romance; Age Gap; Forced Proximity; Fake Relationship
Release Date: March 10, 2026
He’s the man the music world forgot. She’s the one it refuses to forgive.
When thirty-eight-year-old former rock legend turned producer Quentin Russo agrees to help salvage the career of Raine Dennison—a Gen Z pop-punk star clawing her way back from public collapse—he expects a paycheck and a shot at professional redemption.
What he doesn’t expect is her.
Raine’s talent is undeniable. So are the scars she hides beneath her bravado. And, as Quentin pushes her to tell the truth in her music, he finds himself confronting the very demons that once destroyed his own career.
Their creative chemistry is volatile. Their attraction is reckless.
And the label has a plan to exploit it.
They want a fake romance to sell the comeback. But real feelings don’t follow a well-laid-out plan.
In an industry that feeds on spectacle, where one mistake can go viral and forgiveness is never guaranteed, falling for each other could cost them everything—or force them to decide what’s really worth losing.
Break the Girl is a raw, emotional rockstar romance perfect for fans of A Star Is Born and Jamison’s Wilder Love.
“They canceled all my tour dates and threatened to not record the third album…and that’s why they sent me here.”
Raine clasped her hands together in her lap again and let out a small breath. Although Quentin had been quiet, she had no doubt he was judging her—and maybe even believing she was full of shit.
When she looked up, he finally spoke. Even though his voice was quiet, it felt like thunder. “Was there ever a time, through any of that, where you felt like you could say no?”
Two tears dropped at almost the same time, but she pursed her lips together, forcing them to stop quivering. And then she said, “No. And I know the media had a heyday with what happened at the concert, saying my partying had finally gone too far—but that wasn’t fucking it. Obviously, they hadn’t listened to a goddamn thing I’d said.” Letting out a long breath, feeling like now she was in control, she shifted her eyes from Quentin to her hands again. “They just couldn’t see that I was trying to escape my reality. Instead, it was just a big fucking joke.”
When she looked up at Quentin again, he gave her a soft nod, his eyes telling her that he believed her—and he saw her.
Jade C. Jamison writes steamy contemporary romance that’s full of heat, heartbreak, and hard rock. Known for emotionally raw rockstar romances, sizzling billionaire stories, and unforgettable second chances, Jade delivers passionate stories with fierce heroines and brooding heroes.
When she’s not writing, she’s jamming to metal, sipping strong coffee, or spoiling her pets and family. Whether set in small-town Colorado or on tour with a band, her books take readers on an intense, romantic ride—one story at a time.
Arcanum: In the Temple Shadows Kelly O’Hearn (Arcanum, #1) Publication date: May 20th 2024 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
Arcanum: In the Temple Shadowsis Book One in a series of novels channeled through the tarot cards by noted intuitive Kelly O’Hearn—the first of its kind!
In this sexy past life romance, sometimes happily ever after takes more than one lifetime. Meet Sarah Fuller. It’s her 40th birthday and things are starting to get weird. Is it deja vu? A midlife crisis? Nervous breakdown? Who is this dark, handsome stranger she feels like she’s met before? Not on Fifth Avenue or through her luxury fragrance company but, like, many lifetimes ago?
Her husband, her best friend, her shrink: everyone seems to think they know what’s best for her these days. Sarah’s always been a skeptic, but when she meets this intriguing psychic who tells her she might have been a Pharaoh’s lover and powerful mystic in ancient Egypt, thousands of years ago, it feels so right that she’s determined to find out more.
“I was given early access to the manuscript of Arcanum, and I was immediately immersed in this unique and sassy book! It’s like Carrie Bradshaw meets Cleopatra. The tension and drama between the characters was enthralling, both in their current lives and their past lives. I can’t wait for the second book in the series!” K. Lewis
Arcanum: Whispers In The Forest Kelly O’Hearn (Arcanum, #2) Publication date: May 13th 2025 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
From noted intuitive channeler Kelly O’Hearn comes the spellbinding second installment in the critically acclaimed Arcanum series—a mesmerizing blend of romance, reincarnation, and sensual awakening that spans across centuries.
When Manhattan parfumier Sarah Fuller abandons her picture-perfect life to pursue an obsession with an ancient rose in the South of France, she never expects to unearth secrets buried for centuries. What begins as a professional quest quickly transforms into a soul-stirring journey, cosmically interwoven with that of a medieval maiden with mysterious powers.
As her marriage crumbles and her closest friendship fractures, Sarah’s carefully constructed reality begins to unravel. Between the gleaming penthouses of New York and the sun-drenched fields of Provence, she discovers that the fragrance she seeks may be the key to unlocking a past life—and a love that has endured across time itself.
But some secrets are meant to stay buried, and as Sarah delves deeper into her past, she must decide: Will she heed the whispers that call to her from the forest, or will she lose herself to them completely?
All of a sudden she felt an invisible ripple along her spine, a jolt of something. Her eyes flew open, and she saw a man standing about five feet in front of her.
“Holy shit,” she blurted. “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”
“Other than the two hundred people hobnobbing in the Temple of Dendur?”
“Yeah, other than those jerks.”
His smile was a knockout. If she weren’t happily married…scratch that. Tall, dark, probably of Middle Eastern descent? Gorgeous tux. Crooked smile. She’d have to be dead not to find him…attractive.
That was one word for it. Hot-as-fuck might be another.
“Harry Aiken.” He held out his hand.
Was her mouth agape? Sarah settled herself. “Of course you are…”
She took his hand in hers, and the two of them stood there for way too long. Maybe it was only a second or two, but she felt—well, she felt everything. The power of his grip, the warmth of his skin, the clean smell of him, the slight bristle of the hairs on the back of his hand, his eyes—but beyond all of those sensory, well, pleasures, really, she felt like he was definitely part of whatever gut-roiling recalibration or transformation was going on inside her today. He was somehow in on it.
She released his hand and backed away a step, as if he had burned her.
Or could.
And then she started breathing again.
“Weird day.” She shook her head and started walking slowly around the atrium.
“Do you want to be alone?” he asked.
“Not necessarily. I just didn’t want to be in a room with hundreds of people.”
Harry put his hands in his pockets and walked alongside her. “Same. I left right before the guest of honor arrived. Just all a bit too much for me, you know.”
Sarah realized his clean, buttoned-up smell was just a top note. Sandalwood, tobacco, myrrh: this man was into expensive fragrance of some sort or another, and their heat had brought it to life. A deep, masculine scent. Her mortal weakness.
“You’ve never met her?”
“No. I’m not really even sure why I’m here. I met this hilarious guy named Max—”
She couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, I know him.”
“Right? I met him last week. Turns out he’s best friends with the CEO of this company I do business with whom I’ve been trying to meet for years. She’s got a firewall of assistants around her. Max is a great guy and all, but he was like, ‘You should totally come meet Sarah and learn more about her new foundation, yadda yadda…’ and I was like, ‘Great, I’d really appreciate the introduction.’ and then he’s like, ‘I got you on the list to her surprise party Saturday night’ and I’m like, ‘Well, that’s a little weird to show up at someone’s fortieth birthday party uninvited, if I’ve never even met them, don’t you think?’ But he’s kind of persuasive and funny, and it all seemed like a good idea last week. But now I’m just like a fish out of water…and now I’m babbling—”
When he turned to face her, their eyes caught again, and held, like they had when they’d shaken hands. “I’m not usually nervous, but you’ve caught me off guard,” he said.
Sarah just gave herself permission to stare at him. Why not? It was her birthday, wasn’t it? And maybe he was her gift. Her lip must have lifted slightly on one side when she thought that, because his glance darted to her mouth and his pupils dilated.
Then, as if realizing that what he was doing could be construed as creepy, his eyes flew back up to hers.
Her smile widened.
You can look at my mouth anytime you like, she almost said—but caught herself before she did something…regrettable.
“So, is this going to be like some Cinderella story?” he asked, his voice deeper, stronger, if that was even possible. “Are you going to introduce yourself, or am I going to have to enlist the cavalry and ride my steed throughout the kingdom tomorrow to find out your true identity?”
Harry Aiken on horseback, commanding an army. Wheeling his horse around with perfect control. Mastery. Smoke and leather and the clang of ancient weapons and still, always, his eyes on her, always on her. Tracking her, minding her, loving her.
“I could see that,” she whispered, then turned to walk back toward the party. “I guess it is a bit of a Cinderella story,” she continued, forcing her voice to take on a more carefree tone. “Because I’ll definitely turn into a pumpkin if I don’t get back to hobnobbing.”
Author Bio:
When Kelly O’Hearn first stepped off the train in the city of Florence, Italy, as a 20-year-old, she had the overwhelming instinct that she had been there before. In a place famous for its maze of medieval streets, O’Hearn navigated the city as if she had lived there for a lifetime. Born in New York City, O’Hearn first put her intuitive skills to work as a professional wine taster, instructor, and sommelier in the elite institutions of New York, Portugal, and Aspen. After raising her two children and enduring a personal health crisis, in 2012, she was drawn to begin reading the tarot cards, an ancient practice which does not presume to “predict the future” but offers a collection of stories, perspectives, and self-reflections that can guide one to become one’s most authentic self. O’Hearn is in high demand for her readings, with clients on every continent but Antartica. While most people were baking sourdough or riding their Pelotons during the Covid pandemic, O’Hearn used the tarot cards to channel her own past lives. Weeks of readings, all captured on video, yielded six storylines of herself as several powerful women over the millennia and around the globe: the same one soul, over time, persevering against all odds in the quest for happiness and the love of a soul mate. This time-bending saga inspired O’Hearn to conceive of a series of novels titled Arcanum. Book One: In the Temple Shadows is available now. Book Two: Whispers in the Forest will be released Spring of 2025.
Political Fiction, Political Drama, Literary Crime/Power Fiction, Family
Saga
Date Published: February 16, 2026
Scions of Legacy – The Powers That Be (Book 1) The Powers That Be is the
first book in a new series that continues the world established in the Rude
Boy USA trilogy. This time, the focus shifts to Sophie and Sandra LeBlanc, the
daughters of John LeBlanc, the patriarch whose rise defined the earlier saga.
They were raised inside influence, discipline, and expectation. Now they must
learn what it means to carry that legacy in a world that watches closely and
forgets nothing of their parents’ pasts. The novel centers on the sisters as
they navigate proximity to power while a scandal threatens to fracture the
family’s hard-earned reputation. The name LeBlanc once commanded
respect. Now it draws scrutiny. As rumors spread and alliances shift, Sophie
and Sandra are forced to confront not only public fallout but also the private
truths behind the life they inherited. The Rude Boy USA trilogy provides the
lore, history, and emotional foundation for this story. The rise of Chimera,
the transition into legitimacy, and the cost of building influence form the
foundation of everything that unfolds here. The Powers That Be is about
loyalty, inheritance, image, and what happens when the next generation must
stand firm as the ground beneath them begins to shake.
About the Author
Victoria Bolton writes political and crime fiction about power, legacy,
and the private decisions that quietly shape public history.
Flight L Theodoora Publication date: November 14th 2013 Genres: Adult, Romance, Science Fiction
Piper Madden used to be an Ace Harpy Hunter, but after the death of her brother, she’ll do anything to leave that life behind. She flees to the fringe underground zone called the Rift to live out her exile on her own terms.
But the authoritarian Elder Corporation isn’t about to let one of their best assets slip through the cracks. Piper is drawn back into the fray on a contract basis to combat a rising Harpy insurgence. As she struggles through her grief, she’s caught between her old life in Central and her new, confusing existence in the Rift.
With the president of Elder Corp asking Piper to spy on his sister, navigating the surprisingly passive strategies of the Rift, and a strange friendship with the mysterious Asher, Piper’s days are filled with more questions than answers.
Then, a chance encounter leaves Piper privy to a dangerous resistance plot, and as she and Asher team up in an effort to unravel the truth, the secrets they uncover beneath the ancient walls of the dead city will spark their world into a grand-scale war.
Wisps of smoke fill my mouth as I struggle to inhale, grasping the edges of my lungs until I let out a violent cough. I grope around the charred floor, unable to see, until my fingers brush his warm skin. Asher.
I force my eyes open, the thick smoke clouding them with hot tears. Asher lies beside me, sprawled across the crackling wooden floor. His eyes are dark, as though they’re filled with liquid black ink. He pulses, his jaw clenching as ebony wings slowly, painfully, rupture from his back, tearing through his skin. I reach my hand to grip his arm, avoiding the scattered debris.
“Ash?”
The flames lick up the walls around us to quell their hunger. Asher flinches when he sees me, slowly backing away as though I’m a stranger. Shit. The drugs have started working, which means I’m going to forget him, too. I wipe thick sweat from my face, crawling toward him and clutching his shirt tightly. If he moves, I’ll move with him. It’s dangerous, but I can’t let him go.
Not yet.
“Asher! It’s me!” I shout. “It’s Piper. Please. You know me.” I ignore the threat of his razor-sharp talons and wrap my arms around his wiry body. His scent, a mix of crisp cedar and musk, lets me cling to previous moments of us: his hands on my body, his lips caressing mine, staring at the stars and talking about the universe, our bodies flying high above ground. Moments I can’t forget.
“Please,” I whisper fiercely, “please remember me.” His body trembles, but he fights through it, stopping himself from tossing me aside. Just for a moment, his eyes fade back to their natural light blue, and he grabs my shirt forcefully. He buries his face into my neck like he’s breathing me in for the last time, and we cling to each other as the beams of the building crackle and come apart, sending showers of sparks raining around us.
“Piper,” he whispers. He pushes me back to arm’s length, grunting as he struggles to stay with me. Something stronger, something darker is trying to pull him under, and there’s only so long until he falls into its depths. It won’t be long now.
“Yes?” I reply, gripping his arms so tight I might leave bruises. I can’t lose him here. I won’t accept that this is the end. I look into his eyes, searching for a sign that he’s still my Asher.
That he’s not just some monster.
“I’ll find you again when this is all over,” he says, tracing his fingers over my temples.
“But how? You won’t recognize me, and I won’t recognize you. We’ll be strangers,” I murmur.
His eyes flash with an angry determination. “I would know you, Piper Madden, anywhere, any time of my life. They can try to force you away from me, but I’m not done fighting back. For the first time in my life, I’m actually fighting for something. I will find you,” he says.
We’re rocked backward as the wall explodes from pressure. He holds me tightly to keep me balanced, using his wings for leverage. Gunshots ring out in the distance, and I know it’s only a matter of time before they infiltrate and retrieve us. People I should have been able to trust. It hurts now knowing I never could.
Finally, I can feel the siren’s song of the drug pulling me into its shallow haze. Warmth floods my body as my memories are dragged just out of reach. I try to cling to them, but they drift away like petals in the wind. Asher grunts and rolls away from me, grasping his head with his hands, and his wings begin to tremble.
I look around, my head on a swivel as I struggle to stay present. How did we get here?
The moments leading up to this one drop like they’re falling down a staircase one by one.
“Asher!” I shout again, trying to bring him back to me for a little while longer. He pants heavily, willing himself to stand and remain conscious. I want to keep fighting, but I can feel my strength fading. The futility of it all wraps itself around my bones, leeching all hope. This is it.
“Promise me you’ll find me,” I whisper into Asher’s chest. Even though he’s in agony, he strokes my hair, rubs his thumb along my cheek, presses his lips against my neck.
“I promise,” he whispers, over and over, like a mantra. “I promise, I promise, I promise.”
Author Bio:
Theo is an author, screenwriter, and game designer from Northern Ontario.
She writes achingly romantic stories about complicated characters, often pulling from dark or strange places.
She has a passion for the ritual of writing, and for helping others achieve their writing goals through process and StoryCraft.
When she was only 15, Kaylene Winter wrote her first rocker romance novel starring a fictionalized version of herself, her friends and their gorgeous rocker boyfriends. After living her own rockstar life as a band manager, music promoter and mover and shaker in Seattle during the early 1990’s, Kaylene became a digital media legal strategist helping bring movies, television and music online. Throughout her busy career, Kaylene lost herself in romance novels across all genres inspiring her to realize her life-long dream to be a published author. She lives in Seattle with her amazing husband and dog. She loves to travel, throw lavish dinner parties and support charitable causes supporting arts and animals.
A small community has a killer with a gruesome vendetta in this darkly
humorous LGBTQ+ mystery, featuring a group of tight-knit investigators whose
lives are as complex as the murderer they’re chasing.
When a serial killer terrorizes their town, Doc, Switch, Saphine, and Lauren
are hot on the trail—despite pushback from local law enforcement. But
while they work to solve the crimes before more lives are lost, the detectives
have to handle personal problems and repair trust with found family in order
to even have a chance at solving the murders.
Soon, however, the group learns how the past affects relationships and their
ability to serve justice. Will they find motive behind the violent crimes? Or
are some mysteries never meant to be solved?
Serial Overkill is a suspense-filled, character-driven whodunit drama that
will have readers chasing answers until the bitter end.
About the Author
Kelley Barks-Baker has a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice
administration. She enjoys reading and vacationing on the beach.
Barks-Baker currently resides with Cape Girardeau, Missouri with her family.
