Xonarye: Japan S.H.S. Publication date: September 1st 2025 Genres: Adult, Mystery, Young Adult
In the snowy heartlands of Izumo, Japan, Leaf Brodie seeks answers. What begins as a path of discipline and inner reflection under the watchful eye of Master Kenji becomes a deeper journey-one where ancient secrets lie hidden in the folds of tradition and trust can shatter with a single lie.
As Leaf explores sacred shrines and timeless landscapes, a betrayal from within rocks his world. Yuji, once a friend and fellow student, is exposed as a spy for the powerful Reblick syndicate. The destruction he leaves behind is devastating-but the artifact he steals, a sacred belt buckle, is missing one thing: the next clue.
That clue isn’t written on paper or etched in stone-it’s been burned into human skin. On Master Kenji’s back is a mysterious script, unknown even to him, and unlike anything Leaf or Selina have seen before. What they uncover is not just a lost language-it’s a gateway to the forgotten land of Xonarye.
Blending action, cultural discovery, betrayal, and ancient myth, Xonarye: Japan is a powerful continuation of the global adventure.
When the dojo finally came into view, Leaf’s sense of calm and safety was suddenly shattered.
The main gate hung open, crooked on its hinges. Shards of splintered wood lay scattered across the stone pathway. A few windows had been shattered, with broken glass spread all around him . The paper screens of the main hall were torn and flapping loosely in the breeze. It looked like a storm had blown through but there had been no storm. Leaf’s heart pounded in his chest. He quickened his pace, stepping
over the debris, eyes scanning every corner. The courtyard was a mess, the practice weapons strewn about, some cracked in half. The tatami mats were shredded, spilling straw across the floor like scattered autumn leaves.
“Selina?” he called out, his voice sharp against the silence. “Yuji? Kenji?”
Nothing but the breeze whistling through some rocks around the dojo.
The rooms were upturned. Mats tossed aside, scrolls unravelled, some torn. Kenji’s study , usually immaculate , was in chaos. Books were thrown from their shelves, papers were scattered, and ink was spilled like blood across the floor. Kenji’s prized calligraphy scrolls hung lopsided, some sliced through as if by a blade. The room smelled of old ink and cold air, carrying a whisper of ash as if something had been burned. Leaf’s mind raced. Who would do this? Why?
He moved quickly through each room, heart hammering. No one. No sign of life. He reached the small back garden where the snow had settled undisturbed.
Suddenly, footsteps crunched behind him. Leaf spun, fists clenched. Selina stepped out from the shadows, her eyes sharp, surveying the damage.
“What happened?” she asked, voice low and controlled.
Leaf shook his head, the words tangled in his throat.
Author Bio:
Scott Shepherd is an emerging Australian author with a passion for adventure, storytelling, and the lure of lost lands. Hailing from Naracoorte, South Australia, Scott self-published his first novel in 2020, introducing readers to the daring world of Xonarye. Since then, he has written three books in the Xonarye series, bringing his vivid imagination to life through tales set in exotic locations steeped in mystery and culture.
In 2025, Scott re-released a refined edition of his debut novel, Xonarye: Australia, followed by the second instalment, Xonarye: Cuba, with the third book, Xonarye: Japan, set for release later the same year.
A part-time novelist, full-time family man, and self-described “regular guy,” Scott continues to write from his hometown, where he balances storytelling with hiking, fatherhood, and shared adventures with his partner. Whether at his desk or exploring the outdoors, Scott is always chasing the next great journey—on the page or beyond.
You Don’t Belong Here D.M. Siciliano Publication date: October 13th 2025 Genres: Adult, Horror, Paranormal, Suspense
A girl who feels invisible finally faces her worst fear on her sixteenth birthday and hastily makes a dark deal.
An old man returns to the same place every year on the anniversary of his wife’s death, to have one last moonlit dance with her.
A woman’s health concerns are ignored, and it leads to global chaos.
A young woman goes home to bury her father and sell his house but finds that the home is no longer hers.
An old man with Alzheimer’s becomes increasingly lost in his own house, which seems to be doing its own forgetting.
Two young girls find a Ouija board, thinking they’re communicating with a deceased relative, but find something much more cunning.
A woman, grieving the loss of her baby, takes a trip to a remote cabin in Tahoe. Her worried sister goes after her and isn’t prepared for what she finds.
A woman’s drive through California’s winding roads leads her to a perilous and sinister discovery lurking in the woods.
A woman takes a job as a nanny for two troublesome kids, only to find that the children aren’t the problem.
Once she was gone, the house grew quiet, the house got dark, even in daylight, even with all the lights on. He had taken to turning all the lights on most of the time, hoping it might give him some clarity, some help in understanding and navigating the house he knew inside and out. He’d flip the lights on, and then the nurse would come and shut most of them off behind him once he left the room. It was as if the house’s memory was beginning to slip, just like the old man’s. Things seemed to make less sense to both the man and the house. What might happen if the house couldn’t remember what its curving walls gave way to? What if it forgot where a door should be? Or even where the entrance and exit of the labyrinth in the backyard must be? He was certain the forgetfulness wasn’t all on him. Yes, his mind was playing tricks on him, but there was more to it than that. He played a part in it for sure, but there was something about the house. It was part of him, after all. His blood, sweat, and tears had gone into building it. The house was as much a part of him as his daughter was, perhaps even more.
—
SUNNY DAYS AHEAD
Tommy took a long sip of his milk, leaving a trail of a white mustache above his top lip. “She died.” He took the sleeve of his pajamas and wiped it across his lip, removing the stain. “She got sick. Sad sick.” He leaned back against a pillow on the sofa and pulled the corner of the throw blanket up to his chest.
“Oh, I am so sorry.”
“She got confused a lot. And cried a lot. She confused me and Danny. Didn’t know who was who. Sometimes she yelled at my father for no reason. Sometimes she got so sad and nervous that she would itch her arms until they bled. That’s what Dad said.”
Terry pulled her sleeves down low, so as not to call attention to the long red marks that now plagued her arms. They began to itch and tease at her, but she resisted the urge. Instead, she locked her hands around her teacup. “That is very sad.”
“When everyone went to sleep, she stayed awake. She would walk up and down the halls. Open our doors and just stand there at the bed watching us sleep.”
A chill of recognition swept over Terry.
“If we were bad, she would lock us up in our room.”
—
HYSTERIA
If only women’s health had been taken more seriously, perhaps the invasion would never have happened. If the Earth were a woman, it would be giving the human race the middle finger and saying, I told you so!” right about now. What’s left of Earth anyway. It might as well be called something else entirely. Or perhaps that is a human ego’s way of thinking. Since human life on this planet changed, why couldn’t it still be Earth?
I’d spoken to my doctor more in the past few months than my literary agent. It was my third visit in six months for the same problem. What started with what my doctor had called vague, benign symptoms, turned into a nightmare. Even she recommended we might have to consider more invasive methods to deal with it. Hysterectomy: that’s what she’d called it. Such a strange word. Such an offensive base. In ancient Greece, hysteria was thought to be caused by the uterus, thus hysterectomy, so the removal of the uterus would cure the hysteria. If anything in life was that easy. In hindsight, I’d have preferred to have been hysterical and called it a day.
Author Bio:
DM is a lover of all things creative. From the moment she could speak, growing up in Massachusetts, she had a passion for flair and drama, putting on concerts for anyone who was even remotely interested (and even for those who were not). A storyteller by nature, she first pursued her young dream of becoming a singing diva while living in Arizona. She soon found that stage life wasn’t the only form of storytelling she craved, so she dropped the mic and picked up a pencil instead. She still hasn’t given up on her diva-ness, and hopes her pencil stays as sharp as her tongue.
A dark sense of humor and curiosity for haunted houses and things out of the ordinary led her down the path of completing her first novel, Inside. Several other projects are constantly floating around in her head and her laptop daily, and sometimes keeping her up much too late at night. Occasionally, those projects are so dark and twisted, she needs to leave a nightlight on.
She now lives in Northern California with her two fluffy furbabies, Cezare and Michaleto.
Royal Danger Avishai El (The Mystique Series, #2) Publication date: October 15th 2025 Genres: Adult, Mystery, Psychological, Thriller
Something happened to Vaughan.
Those closest to her speak in half-truths and glances. One moment, she was walking among them—intuitive, brave, haunted. The next, she was part of something no one can explain. A fracture in time. A storm no one saw coming. Some believe she stumbled into it. Others believe she was always meant to be its center.
They say she inherited a crown, but no one saw it placed on her head.
They say she vanished during the final seal, but no one witnessed her fall.
And they say the darkness never stopped chasing her… even now.
There were signs. Whispers. Visions. A golden ticket that kept appearing in strange places. A man named Eli who stayed by her side long after others fled. And a mother who saw too much, too late.
Was it destiny? Madness? Or something that lives in the shadows between?
Royal Danger is a slow-burning psychological mystery thriller laced with horror, surreal visions, and eerie spiritual phenomena. It is a story about intuition, unraveling identity, and the thin, terrifying veil between love, legacy, and annihilation.
“Flower’s body trembled as she sat on the cold floor, each breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The weight of the guilt crushed her, and her mind swirled with memories of the warnings—the cryptic visions that had haunted her for so long. She had been entrusted with Vaughan’s safety, told over and over to protect her, but somehow, she had failed. It wasn’t just a warning; it was a responsibility—one she had let slip through her fingers.
Why didn’t I act sooner? The question echoed in her mind. Vivid images of Andres flashed through her thoughts: his smiling face, his trusting eyes, and the way he had died so suddenly, so violently. The sharp memory of his lifeless body still haunted her dreams. Could she have saved him? No, but the feeling of regret overwhelmed her.
Her heart ached with the familiar sting of loss, of failure. She frantically looked at her phone for any sign of Vaughan, but all she saw was the silent screen, the unanswered call. Her thoughts twisted, each one more unbearable than the last. What if this is it? What if it’s too late?
The shrill, agonizing cry that had erupted from[…]”
“ in ragged gasps as she tried to figure out how to break free. The cold, hard floor beneath her felt like it was closing in.
Then, she stumbled.
Her foot collided with something heavy, sending it crashing to the ground. The sound of metal clanging against stone resounded through the room, and as her eyes darted down, she saw it—a pan, ancient and worn, its surface etched with symbols that seemed to dance in the dim light.”
Author Bio:
Avishai El (1989-present) was birthed in Morocco to her mom who is Moor American. She grew up in Morocco. For 5 years she has been a Certified Raw Food Educator and Holistic Health Coach helping people with everything from weight loss to chronic illness. She has worked in hospitals getting babies off of respirators, helped cancer patients shrink their tumors holistically, and has traveled to receive an award for her tireless education on the healing benefits of essential oils.
Her first published book was “Earthly Desserts” which received 5-stars. She has since published self-help books, journals, and notebooks that support the health of her clients. She teaches professional and entrepreneurial women how to get rid of stress, drop the pounds, and create the life they deserve. She has provided published resource books on Amazon so they can do just that.
The threat to all werewolves draws Amir and Oliver together, even as
their wounds threaten to rip them apart.
Trust is Earned (Medically Necessary 1): Amir is a General Practitioner
for magical creatures, particularly werewolves. When the leader of all
werewolves comes to him with a problem that presents like psychosis, Amir
needs help. Oliver’s nursing a grieving heart and a chip on his
shoulder. Still, when Amir asks for his help, he jumps at the chance. The
submissive wolf is beautiful.
Trust is Fraught (Medically Necessary 2): As the leader of the werewolves
sinks further into insanity, Amir and Oliver fight prejudice and time to
rescue their alpha. As Oliver and Amir are pulled deeper into the dangers of
the psychic world, their love may be the only thing keeping them sane.
Trust is Sacred (Medically Necessary 3): Oliver’s terrible secret is
eating him alive. Amir thinks purging and confession are medically necessary
for spiritual and physical well-being, but Oliver will stop at almost nothing
to hide his scars.
Can either of them learn to trust?
EXCERPT
Excerpt from Trust is Earned
He had tended to different members of the Tilthos and Merle werewolf packs
over the years. Being positioned in southern Erie County, located in Upstate
New York, had been the best thing he could do for his medical practice. Once
he’d finally convinced Nicholas Black of the Merle pack in Buffalo, New
York, to work with him as the werewolf equivalent of a midwife, his office was
often full to bursting with pregnant female werewolves.
And it didn’t matter one bit that he spoke Werewelsh, the native
language of most werewolves, with an accent or as only his fourth language.
For Dr. Amir Othman, the prejudice he might have encountered because of his
unusual parentage and his even more unique upbringing was all overshadowed by
one truth. He was good at his job.
That didn’t make him less nervous to meet the alpha above all alphas.
Tilthos Charles, alpha of his own pack and leader of the wolves of North and
South America, was supposedly intimidating. All of which pointed to this
truth: while Amir had healed every magical creature from djinns to kelpies,
and even two dragons, he still worried about doing or saying the wrong thing
in Tilthos Charles’s presence.
What bothered him even more was that he almost qualified as a lone wolf. A
“packless loner,” in werewolf-speak, and that was not a
compliment. He had a technical pack, run by Kreisha Alexander. When that
particular alpha threw his weight around, everyone obeyed. Thankfully, that
pack was in Washington, DC, nearly two hundred miles away. So, unless Alpha
Alexander gave him an edict directly over the phone, as opposed to in an email
or via snail mail, Amir could basically do as he chose.
Except, now the alpha above all alphas was coming to his office and would
surely demand to know why he hadn’t switched his allegiance to a pack up
here in New York. “It doesn’t have to be mine,” the most
powerful werewolf on the planet would say, “but it can’t be you
operating under your own aegis.”
So, when his assistant, Carly, sent him a message that Tilthos Charles was
here, Amir’s pulse picked up. He responded to her message, saying
he’d be in Exam Room Three in under five minutes. Then he did a deep
breathing exercise, using the five senses trick he’d learned as a young
wolf when he first realized he wanted to become a doctor and would be around
blood and anxious magical creatures.
Five things he could see. His fidgety hands. By crossing his eyes, he could
see his nose. His computer screen, which held everything his clinic had on the
alpha above all alphas. Trying to look farther away in an attempt to slow his
racing heart, he looked at the carpet in front of his desk. It was a boring
brown that didn’t hold his attention. Finally, he looked at the door
where he’d hung a poster of a Great Pyrenees, which was the closest
breed to his family’s wolf forms, which were usually white.
Four things he could hear… The thudding of his heart. The rush of blood
in his veins, which meant he was really keyed up still because even though he
was a werewolf with acute hearing, he didn’t usually pay attention to
the sounds of his own or others’ bodies. He struggled hard to refocus
and heard the buzzing of the fluorescent light in the ceiling. He needed one
more thing, so he made his chair creak. Oddly, the sound of something he could
completely control helped him breathe a little easier.
Three things he could touch… The pen in his hand, which he’d been
nervously twirling. He set it down. The feel of the chair under him, with his
suit coat slung over the back. He could also feel his toes in his shoes. He
breathed in more deeply than he’d managed so far and felt still a bit
better.
Two things he could smell… He could no longer smell adrenaline. That
was a good thing. He lifted his hand to his nose and smelled the soap
he’d washed with maybe ten minutes ago.
And one thing he could taste, which was his cold lavender matcha latte.
Glancing at the clock icon on his computer, he saw it had been almost three
minutes. Well, it was now or never. He doubted he’d be calmer if he sat
here longer. So, he stood, straightened his white medical coat, and left the
office. He listened to people talking quietly in the waiting room as he
passed. He smiled at Carly, who mouthed, “Good luck.” Then he
knocked on the door of Exam Room Three.
“Please come in.”
The voice that had responded was lightly accented, and he wondered why no one
had ever told him Tilthos Charles was Hispanic. Then he was in the room, and
he saw there were two people inside. The werewolf was certainly Tilthos
Charles and the psychic vampire… Oh, yes. Tilthos Charles’s mate
was a psychic vampire.
The alpha wolf sat on the exam table and his mate stood at his side. It was
actually the psychic vampire who moved first, holding out his hand. “Dr.
Othman, I’m Luis McLaughlin.”
Amir shook with him and then offered his hand to the burly werewolf. He saw
the wolf’s eyes flicker quickly down to his hand and then away. Then his
hand was taken and Tilthos Charles said, “Please to meet you, Dr.
Othman.”
He sounded it too, but there was something bothering him. Well, and
didn’t that make sense? Folks who were completely healthy rarely came to
the doctor’s office.
“The pleasure is mine,” Amir returned, smiling at both of them.
Then he retreated until he could sit on his stool. He watched Tilthos
Charles’s eyes try to focus on him. “Forgive me, but while I have
some information about your general health, I know very little about your
visual impairment.”
He saw his guess had been right, that the alpha above all alphas indeed had
something wrong with his vision.
“I told you he’d know,” said Luis as his mate brought out a
folded white cane from behind his back.
“Forgive me the test, Dr. Othman,” said Charles, “but
I’ve been seen by too many doctors who miss the obvious until I point it
out to them.” He settled the cane on his leg, keeping one hand on it so
it wouldn’t fall. “We’re here today, not because of my
visual impairment, which has been unchanged since I was born, but because Luis
is convinced there’s something…” He hesitated.
Luis said, “He’s distracted and agitated.”
Amir watched Charles’s nostrils flare and his pupils dilate.
“I’m on edge because Agent Sowerby’s… Shit. I must be
off-balance somehow if I’m about to spill state secrets.” He
smiled ruefully at Amir. “Forgive me. Luis is right. I just can’t
figure out how you’ll help me or if there is any help for the mess
we’re about to be in.”
“May I examine you?”
Charles nodded.
Amir went through all the basics, including sending the alpha werewolf out to
give him a urine sample. When the door closed, he turned to Luis. “How
long has he been on edge?” He could smell the wolf’s almost panic.
“About three weeks. “
“Did anything precipitate his anxiety?”
Luis sighed. “I’m not sure what’s really private. I assume
you’re bound by medical confidentiality?”
“I am.” He could see the psychic vampire hesitating. “Please
tell me everything you can. I cannot be effective while only possessing half
the facts.”
“My mate holds the belief that the head of SearchLight is going to
expose all magical creatures.”
Amir’s mouth went dry. “I know Tilthos Charles probably has the
ear of SearchLight. Is he correct?”
“Absolutely not, but I can’t convince him of that.”
“Has he talked to…” He couldn’t remember the name of
the new head of SearchLight, only that Agent Weinberg had stepped down.
“I’ve tried getting Jack Sowerby to talk to him. No dice. Not that
Agent Sowerby wouldn’t, but Charlie didn’t believe him.”
Amir held up his hand. The bathroom door had creaked open. He turned his head
toward the exam room’s entrance for good measure.
Tilthos Charles entered. “Your assistant took my sample.”
Amir said soothingly, “Please, Alpha, sit down.”
He saw his words had the opposite effect to what he’d intended. Instead
of resting on the table again, Tilthos Charles drew himself up. He was taller
than Amir by half a foot and intimidating as hell.
Sitting on his stool, making himself as nonthreatening as possible, Amir put
his hands palms up on his thighs. “I mean you no harm.”
About the Author
Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host
of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily
has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate
quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her
website.
A ritual decades ago leads Beau to the one person he never expected to
meet: his fated mate.
Detective Beau Kirkland has to work directly with the local vampire house to
find a murderer, but that’s the easy part. The difficult part? His attraction
to Garrett Dawson’s, one of House Saridan’s top hunters.
Garrett Dawson’s methods are brutal but very effective, even for a vampire.
When a mortal detective begins working with House Saridan, Garrett finds
himself unable to ignore the attraction between them.
EXCERPT
Garrett
There were few things I truly loved in this world, and one was currently in my
hand as I took the elevator up to the fifteenth floor of Saridan Tower. No one
else shared my addiction to the most amazingly sweet coffee concoction
currently sending copious amounts of caffeine through my system. I stepped off
the elevator on the top floor and headed down the hall to the usual conference
room. I didn’t get any farther than the doorway, though. I simply froze, body
alternating between hot and cold.
Normally, these meetings were just the three of us lead Venari and Deacon.
Not today, apparently.
Beau Kirkland looked up at me, eyes wide for a moment. No one said a word —
not even Deacon. Somehow, I got my feet to move and sat opposite the omega
cop. It took more effort than I really had this morning to focus on work and
not the stupidly hot human across from me.
I didn’t go for twinks like the others. I liked my men older, more
experienced. Beau fit that requirement with ease. His short brown hair bore a
little bit of gray here and there, and his dark chocolate-colored eyes studied
me whenever I glanced at his face. He was a few inches shorter than my own
six-three, and unlike most omegas, he was a bit muscular due to his job.
Dressed in his dark navy uniform, he presented the most fucking delectable
package on the planet. I cursed silently and tore my gaze from his when all
blood began rushing south.
Deacon cleared his throat and looked at each of us. “I’m sure you all know one
another, but for protocol’s sake, I’d like to introduce Officer Beau Kirkland.
He’s our liaison within the police department. He’s also the one handling this
latest case on their end. Officer Kirkland, these are my head Venari: Nikolai
Hart, Victor Pace, and Garrett Dawson.”
Beau nodded. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
We exchanged the usual pleasantries before Deacon continued. “I’m stepping
back for now,” he said, glancing at me briefly, “but I’m here if needed. To
that end, the table’s yours, Officer Kirkland.”
“Thank you,” Beau said. He handed each of us several folders. “Eight victims
so far, all completely drained. Eyewitnesses have seen the perp in passing,
but no one can agree on a description.”
“Could be a Lupyn,” Vic said as he flipped through the contents of one of the
folders.
“That was my assumption, but you all know far better than we do if that’s the
case.”
I went through the first folder in front of me. Crime scene photos, pics of
the victims post-mortem, notes, and statements. I scanned over everything and
couldn’t disagree with the shapeshifter idea. It would make sense.
“What do you need from us?” Nik asked Beau. “We’re more than happy to work
with you and your folks.”
I’m not sure I would’ve gone that far, but we did need to get this monster off
the streets. I might not have been particularly nuts about humans, but that
didn’t mean I wished them dead. My methods were saved for my own kind.
Beau passed out papers to us. “These are the last few places he was sighted.
He’s a vampire, so we humans are outgunned here. We can help corner him, but
capture is a different story altogether.”
Nik nodded. “Agreed. Well, we’re here and ready to go hunting.”
I didn’t miss the slight grimace on Beau’s face before he managed to school it
into something more neutral. Apparently, neither did Deacon, but the man just
remained silent.
“Thank you,” Beau said. “Please keep me updated on everything. In the
meantime, I’ll be at the station downtown, trying to narrow our possible
location leads.”
“Thank you for coming to us,” Deacon said. “I guarantee we will be in touch.
These guys are my best hunters, and I have no doubt they’ll find this son of a
bitch.”
Despite the situation, Beau smiled. “Thank you very much.”
The others left the room, though Beau shot me a cryptic look before stepping
out the door. I stayed seated, knowing Deacon had something to say. Sure
enough, as soon as we were alone, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
“Is this going to be an issue?”
I could’ve played dumb, but he already knew everything. There wasn’t any
point. “No. I’m fully capable of working with him.”
Deacon raised one eyebrow. “Really? Because pheromones say otherwise.”
I managed to avoid scowling at him. Lupyns were more sensitive to things like
that than Venari. “Unlike Nik, I’m perfectly capable of keeping my dick in my
pants, Deacon.”
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He was far older than us, and being
under his scrutiny made even me feel like a scolded kid sometimes. “Don’t let
it get the best of you, Garrett. His job involves danger, and you can’t
protect him from that unless you’re mated and bonded completely.”
“Who said I was –” I snapped my mouth shut at his glare.
“I’m old, not an idiot.” Deacon leaned forward and put his arms on the table.
“Either fight this until the perp is in custody or fucking claim Beau. I can’t
have you out there distracted. Understood?”
“Yes,” I replied, biting back a growl.
“Good. Dismissed.”
I stood abruptly, grabbed the folders and paper, and left the conference room.
I made it halfway down the hall before Nik and Vic both cornered me. Fuck.
“That didn’t go well, did it?” Vic asked.
“No,” I snarled.
I continued walking, and they followed me to the elevator. I stabbed the DOWN
button and had to unclench my fist before I gave into the urge to hit
something. In the door’s reflection, I saw Nik and Vic exchange cautious
glances.
We all stepped into the elevator and took it to the lobby. Without another
word said, it was a given where we’d wind up. Colby’s was the city’s best
diner with the most amazing coffee blends. Maybe the combination of carbs,
sugar, and caffeine would calm me down because just the thought of claiming
Beau sure as fuck wasn’t doing it.
Quite the opposite, actually.
I was hard as a fucking rock.
About the Author
Mychael Black has been writing professionally since 2005. He writes gay
romance and erotica, but also het romance as Carys Seraphine and queer fantasy
as Katherine Cook.
He’s an avid PC gamer with a love for RPGs, a horror fanatic, and a fantasy
nut. He also has a weakness for anything relating to skulls, dogs, and
Spongebob Squarepants.
Mychael lives on the Eastern Shore of the US with his family. He loves to hear
from readers, be it via email or Facebook.
Blind Devotion: A Dark Mafia Romance: Letters of Ruin Addy Anders (Letters of Ruin, #1) Publication date: September 29th 2025 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Dark Romance, Mafia, Romance
PERSETTA
Lost until HIM
I thought the night fate brought us together was the worst night of my life.
I was wrong.
Blinded and with no memory, how was I supposed to know any better?
He’s cold-blooded, cunning, and dangerous—the head of the French mafia.
He’s everything I shouldn’t want in a man, but I do.
For my safety, I have to seduce him.
Instead, with every threat, he’s the one who draws me further into his web.
It’s so easy to fall into his arms as my demons slowly release from their cages.
I feel safe with him.
Until I remember the truth.
ADRIEN
Broken until HER
I walled off my shredded soul and black heart long ago.
No one ever gets in anymore, and yet my guard lowered for her.
She stole away on my boat, injured and with no memories.
The only clue to who she once was—a tattoo on her calf.
This woman. She’s my past. My present. My future.
The one who got away, in more than one sense.
Years ago, I broke our families’ alliance and turned my back on her.
Last night, I was hired to kill her.
My little survivor. My butterfly. If only I recognized her…
Just like yesterday, his palm pressed against my throat, but this time he didn’t squeeze. His thumb brushed up and down over my pulse point. His skin trembled against my own—warm, firm, unyielding, and yet somehow vulnerable too. Maybe that was what drew me to him, because it wasn’t rational how much I wanted him closer, his arms around me, his body against mine.
We were suspended like that for seconds…minutes. It could have been hours. Somehow deep inside, I felt protected for the first time in forever. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t have to, but in my jailer’s arms, in this moment, the void melted away and lightness spread. I wanted more, but the instant I reached for him, before I even touched him, he jerked away.
He cleared his throat.
“Never ask that of me again.”
“Or what?”
He stomped across the room and threw the door open so hard it crashed against the wall and skittered back in scattered croaks.
A strangled laugh choked out of me. Pain shot up my side, and tears seeped under my eye dressings. None of this was funny, but his switch in moods was giving me whiplash, especially after the lightness of that memory.
“You don’t possess a touch of sunshine, do you? You’re angry. Tormented, so you hide behind violence thinking it makes you so tough, but you’re nothing but a big ol’ grump, trying to spread his own misery.”
“You know nothing about me.”
He didn’t stick around for my rebuttal. The door battered the frame on his way out, and the lock clicked loudly into place. His absence left me lonelier than before, and I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. One thing I was almost certain of though. He didn’t really want to kill me. The next time I saw him, I’d put that to the test.
Author Bio:
Addy Anders writes dark romance meant to tug hard on your heartstrings and never let go. Her books deliver deliciously possessive anti-heroes, strong heroines, a touch of angst to set you on edge, and a cocktail of spice.
Addy loves to travel, preferably outside of major cities. When she’s not writing or out in the wilderness, she can be found with her kindle and a very large cup of tea surrounded by her very supportive husband, two kiddos, and two fur babies.
Old Ghosts Janina Franck (Saoirse Kennedy, #1) Publication date: October 7th 2025 Genres: Adult, Crime, LGBTQ+, Suspense
Notorious crime boss Saoirse Kennedy finds herself entangled in a web of mystery when she receives orders to eliminate a detective and faces the resurgence of her haunting past.
In the midst of this city plagued by crime, Detective Lily Rose sets out to apprehend Saoirse, but their paths intertwine when a new, sinister force emerges, prompting an uneasy alliance to protect their city.
Two more men were already waiting for her in the large entry hall, dressed the same as the guards outside, pointing their guns at her.
Saoirse smiled her best cheerful smile, raising her hands in resignation and slowly advancing toward them with carefree steps. “Now, boys, that’s no way to ask a lady to have tea.”
As expected, they barely responded with more than a low growl.
“All I want to do is talk to Garrison. Look, I didn’t even bring a gun.” She gestured to her hips, clad in tight black jeans, wearing an equally tight leather jacket over her olive-green T-shirt.
Her having come unarmed obviously came as a surprise to the guards, because for just a moment, they glanced at one another in an attempt at wordless communication. That rookie mistake was all Saoirse needed. She dashed forward, keeping her body low, and ducked underneath the gun one of them was holding, ramming her head into his ribs. He not only stumbled backward, but he fell, his gun clattering onto the floor. By the time it was in Saoirse’s hands, the other man’s gun was pointed at her again, while hers was aimed at him. However, after a moment’s reflection, she moved it from him to the unarmed man on the floor.
Still smiling, she tilted her head to one side. “I’m sure your boss wouldn’t care if I killed him. But would you? Willing to risk it?” She paused to let her words sink in. Then she repeated her earlier statement. “All I want to do is talk to Garrison. Are you gonna let me go up those stairs, or does he need to die first?”
Her eyes were on his, unblinking and firm. Now it all depended on whether he knew who she was. Though, judging by his glance from her to his partner on the ground, he had a fair idea. Excruciatingly slowly, he lowered both his gun and head.
“There’s a good boy.” Saoirse beamed at him and pranced past him and up the stairs. Except for the guy manning the computers, Garrison wouldn’t have any more security in the building. He didn’t like having too many people around. It made things too confusing, and it lost a significant amount of class.
She had barely made it to the first landing, when she heard the click of a gun’s safety. Dropping her body to the ground immediately, she twisted and fired. The guard’s shot missed her by several meters as her own hitting his arm threw off his aim. Instead of retaliating further, Saoirse sprinted up the last steps of the stairs, and determinedly kicked down the door to what she knew to be Garrison’s office. He wouldn’t change it. Not when it had the perfect view across his grounds and ideal lighting from its positioning.
She was right.
He sat at his desk, facing the door, looking very grave.
“Saoirse,” he said, his tone level. He wore a navy suit today, and a light grey, almost silver tie. His brown hair was brushed and perfectly parted at the side, and his beard neatly trimmed. His hands were clasped together, his elbows stemmed on the table.
“Hello, Luis, old chap,” Saoirse responded. “Mind if we have an uninterrupted chat?”
Author Bio:
Janina is a nature-loving story-addict who may have tea and chocolate running through her veins. Guided by her daydreams, she started writing stories at a young age and never really stopped. Now living in Ireland, she loves to try new things and experience adventures, both real and imagined.
College is rough, but being possessed by a vengeful spirit who wants you to
murder your old boss? That’s next-level.
Freshman year was supposed to be a fresh start. But between his party-animal
roommate, mounting anxiety, and a creepy black vulture that keeps showing up
at the worst possible times, he’s barely keeping it together.
Then the nightmares begin. The voices. The blackouts. And soon, he’s not
sure if the darkness closing in is stress… or something else entirely.
Something old. Something angry. Something that wants revenge and has chosen
him to deliver it.
With his mind slipping, his only hope is a friend who refuses to give up on
him… even when the person she’s fighting to save might already be
gone.
About the Author
Jo Loveday is the award-winning author of gripping psychological
thrillers and chilling horror novels that will keep you up way past your
bedtime with just enough romance to make your heart race for more than one
reason. Her stories delve into the shadowy edges of the human psyche,
exploring morality, madness, and the eerie unknown that lurks beneath the
surface of everyday life.
With a background as a registered nurse, Jo brings both compassion and
clinical insight to her work, offering an authentic and unsettling look into
the human condition. Whether it’s a slow descent into madness, a supernatural
presence worming its way in, or a moral dilemma that haunts the characters
long after the story ends, Jo’s writing grips you by the soul and stays
with you long after you’ve turned the last page.
Born in the frosty tundra of Winnipeg, Canada, Jo eventually escaped the cold
when a job offer in Florida lured her south. Now a dual citizen of Canada and
the U.S., she divides her time between Florida, Georgia, and frequent
pilgrimages to Winnipeg. You can find her lurking online at JoLoveday.com.
Barnabas Bartholomew and the Undead Freshmen Matthew Lett Publication date: September 16th 2025 Genres: Coming of Age, Fantasy
Death isn’t the end of education—at least not at UniverZity U., where fourteen-year-old Barnabas “Barney” Bartholomew is about to begin his freshman year.
As a recently raised zombie trying to make his undead mother proud, Barney must navigate the haunted halls of an underground mausoleum-turned-school, where strict Crypt Keepers enforce ancient rules and mysterious passages hide untold dangers. With fellow freshman facing expulsion for merely refusing to eat their grits, Barney knows he’ll need more than just good grades to survive. But when he discovers his beloved grandfather’s connection to this shadowy institution, Barney realizes there might be more to UniversZity U.—and himself—than meets his speckled blue eyes.
“It’s a member of the Undead class, like us, except it was brought back to life by a sorcerer or a necromancer for evil purposes.”
“What sort of evil purposes?” Barney asked. There was a knot in his stomach; a bundle of nerves resting on the edge of a guillotine.
“Hard to tell,” Pudgy replied. “Depends on what the sorcerer wants the lich to do. He could use it as an assassin, I suppose, to knock off his enemies, or as a bodyguard. Or in this case, a guard dog over a graveyard.”
“But why a graveyard? What would a sorcerer want in a graveyard anyway? And what if it’s not even there? This lich thing. Suppose it’s gone?”
Pudgy shrugged. “Then it’s gone and we don’t have to worry about anything. But if it is real, and there is a lich wandering around, it’ll be looking for souls to eat. That’s why we need the crucifix, to repel it.”
“’Souls to eat?’” Barney repeated. “Are you serious?” He felt light-headed for a second; the world beyond his eyes in a lazy swoon.
“Quite serious,” Pudgy answered. “That’s what liches do. They eat the undead, and if they can, they’ll eat their souls too.”
Barney’s face paled at the thought. An undead cannibal running around the graveyard? That’s what it was! An undeadcannibal! The dead eating the dead, for Christ’s sake!
Pudgy caught the look on Barney’s face; pallid, the sickly color of cream cheese left out in the sun for too long. He snickered. “Hey, calm down. It’s a legend, remember? We’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Barney didn’t answer, his tongue frozen to the roof of his mouth, when Millicent cleared her throat. “Guys?” She tapped the face of her wristwatch. “We need to go if we plan on making curfew. You can discuss the ins-and-outs of liches later, but we need to move.”
“You’re right,” Pudgy said. “I’ll take the lead with the flashlight. Milly, you’ll be behind me. Barney next and then Marcy, and I don’t want you two kissing back there. Agreed?”
Barney blushed clear to his toes. Marcy smiled at him. Millicent laughed out loud and Pudgy winked at Barney, who was staring at the tops of his shoes with a sheepish grin. “Yeah, yeah, okay…” he mumbled. “Funny, real funny, now can we go?”
And so they entered the southwest tunnel, its passages by now near memorized. It was more of a home away from home for the children; its twists and turns nothing more than well-travelled streets and avenues in their hometowns.
Barney stepped through (minus his flashlight which he’d given to Pudgy), when a thought struck him like a phantom stone in the darkness: Pudgy never fully answered my question, he thought. Why the graveyard? Why would a sorcerer (or a necromancer, for that matter) want a lich guarding a graveyard for him? Hmmm…
###
The trip to the graveyard took less than forty-five minutes, and the four of them arrived to find the wrought iron gates unlocked, and the tombstones shrouded in a silky mist of pale fog. A raven, with one eye missing, was perched on a spire atop the gate. It looked down at the children, as if considering their plight, then cawed in its shrill voice a single word they heard all too well:
“BEWARE!”
The raven took flight after its portent of doom. It did a hop and a half-skip, spread its wings, and then soared over the face of the moon reflected in the wavering mist. The raven disappeared as Pudgy opened the gate in a scream of rust. It was loud in the tranquil of the graveyard; as good as any doorbell that rings after midnight.
They walked through the gates; their eyes blind, sinking in what they could not see. Silence–the full-time caretaker of the grounds–greeted them. Distant thunder rolled over the clouds in the east. Lightning followed and took a snapshot of the graveyard for posterity’s sake.
And had there been a black cat perched on the back of a tombstone, with its yellow lamp-lit eyes and its spine arched in a splay of fur, it would not have surprised Barney in the least. The graveyard was spooky, if not picturesque in the simmering light of the moon; a mural better suited on the backdrop of a Halloween landscape.
“What now?” Barney whispered. The air was dank, hollow
somehow. There was no need to whisper, but the graveyard almost
demanded—dared that it be so upon its consecrated ground.
Author Bio:
Matthew Lett was born in Kassel, Germany. Currently, he lives in Sapulpa, Oklahoma with his wife of 39 years, and their two daughters, who also reside in Oklahoma. He’s also a Veteran of the United States Navy, serving on both the U.S.S. Saratoga and U.S.S. America aircraft carriers from 1985-1989. Matthew has been a prolific writer for over 20 years and is a multi-published author with an array of Novels, Novellas, Novelettes, and assorted short stories in a variety of genres. Most of his work can be found in Horror/Suspense/Mystery categories.
During his leisure time, Matthew enjoys rock-n’-roll music, attends church on a regular basis, watches Mystery Science Theatre 3000, reading, and playing with his 3 grandchildren. And of course, Writing. His books include such titles as, “He Who Walks the Corridors,” (Wolf on Water pub.), “Trail of Love and Death,”, “Woodview Heights: Legacy of Decadence” Trilogy and “Barnabas Bartholomew and The Undead Freshmen.”
Matthew Lett can be reached via e-mail for comments, feedback, and suggestions at matthew74107@yahoo.com
Marlena Cannon Matthew Lett Publication date: September 23rd 2025 Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery, Fantasy
A fantasy mystery with hooves and heart.
Simarron isn’t a detective, he’s just a centaur with a clipboard and a nose for trouble. He left his homeland to get a professional job in the city as a magical safety inspector. However, his new life isn’t quite as he imagined it to be and his fellow housemates at Slant Row Boarding House (which is definitely not haunted) are shadier than an enchanted forest.
When a castle disappears and an alchemist ends up dead, Simarron must choose between the cozy, safe rule-bound life he’s always dreamed of and the principles that won’t let him walk away. He is a safety inspector, after all, and the city isn’t safe with a killer on the loose.
A cozy mystery set in a richly imagined gaslamp fantasy world, The Vanishing Castle delights with magical intrigue, a quirky found family, and a centaur sleuth you won’t soon forget.
Checking my pocket watch, I scuffed the moisture off my hooves as I entered the brick building. Inside, a framed newspaper article announced the founding of the Magic and Alchemy Safety and Health Administration just ten years ago. But the smell of dust, lamp oil, and crumbling paper told a different story, one far older. I caught a dim reflection of myself in the glass—enough to see that my auburn mane looked presentable—but I smoothed it down anyway while I waited.
My gaze restlessly traveled the shelves containing old books and magical oddities, including a globe of the world adorned with dynamic swirls of clouds that flowed over the model. The morning light streamed in from a pair of narrow, floor-to-ceiling windows, brightening the dark wood and heavy silence of the interior.
I glanced at my pocket watch again—one minute until my appointment. Inconveniently, the desk positioned outside the director’s office was unoccupied. Not a secretary in sight. Oh, no—they didn’t expect me to interview for a secretary position, did they?
An indistinct figure moved beyond the glass-paneled door. I shifted from hoof to hoof. What was I to do in this situation, knock or wait one more minute?
By the time I worked up the nerve to announce my presence, two more minutes ticked by. Dread slid its icy fingers into my chest, warning me that I was now late, and gave me the final push to act.
I reached forward to knock, pausing when I heard footsteps shuffle to a halt on the other side. I backed up awkwardly, my hooves clattering on the wood floor as the door swung outward.
“Hello, you must be Simarron! I’m Ken Moosekind, Executive Director of MASHA,” said a squinty man with a bushy mustache whose robes smelled faintly of tobacco. “Come in, lad, and mind your head.” He retreated behind his cluttered desk.
I ducked my head slightly, entering the office: a place of organized chaos. Books and files sat piled atop cabinets and shelves—even on the floor. Wood scraped on wood as I moved aside a chair and settled down on my haunches opposite the director.
Director Moosekind shifted a stack of papers aside. “So, Simarron, you want to join MASHA as a magical safety inspector, do you?”
Author Bio:
Marlena Cannon grew up reading “The Cat Who…” mysteries by Lilian Jackson Braun and writing stories of her own. She kept writing intermittently over the years, eventually pursuing her dream by completing the DIY MFA program in 2023, where she drafted “The Vanishing Castle,” inspired by one of her childhood projects. She also designed the cover using her background in graphic design. Marlena lives with her husband and their rescue rabbits.
