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BOOK TOUR & REVIEW: Monsterland by Michael Okon

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A teen must save his date in a theme park whose main attractions, real werewolves, vampires, and zombies, descend the place into chaos.

 

Title: MONSTERLAND

Author: Michael Okon

Publisher: Chelshire, Inc.

Pages: 359

Genre: Action/Adventure

Format: Hardcover, Paperback, Kindle, Kindle Unlimited

Wyatt Baldwin’s senior year is not
going well. His parents divorced, and then his dad mysteriously died.
He’s not exactly comfortable with his new stepfather, Carter Wright,
either. An ongoing debate with his best friends, Melvin and Howard
Drucker, over which monster is superior has gotten stale. He’d much
rather spend his days with beautiful and popular Jade. However, she’s
dating the brash high-school quarterback Nolan, and Wyatt thinks he
doesn’t stand a chance.

But everything changes when Wyatt and
his friends are invited to attend the grand opening of Monsterland, a
groundbreaking theme park where guests can interact with vampires in
Vampire Village, be chased by werewolves on the River Run, and walk
among the dead in Zombieville.

With real werewolves, vampires, and zombies as the main attractions, what could possibly go wrong?

Read a sample here.

Monsterland is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt

The fire Billy created burned bright; rabbits roasted on a spit made from hickory, the juices dripping to hiss in the flames. Seven of his hairy friends lay in scattered repose, enjoying the late afternoon lull—two napped, the others tossed a stuffed fur in the form of a ball around the clearing, hooting with amusement when it rolled into the brush.

Mosquitoes droned lazily over the still water. Frogs croaked while they sunbathed on waxy lily pads. The sun started its slow descent to the horizon, hot pink and lilac clouds rippling against the empty canvas of the sky. Here and there, fireflies flickered to life in the gloom, doing a placid ballet in the humid air.

Unseen, the men moved closer to the campfire as light faded against the western treetops.

Billy’s pack rarely spoke, communicating with grunts, so easy was their companionship. Billy only had to think it and he knew the others could sense what was in his mind. They did share a language of sorts, they used it in both forms of their manifestations.

A lone hawk cried out a warning, disturbing the peace of the marsh. They froze in their spots, their eyes alert, their bodies stiff with fear.

Huge birds answered, flapping their wings, creating a cacophony of swamp sounds. The area became a concerto of animals responding to the disruption of their home—wild screams, squeaks, and complaints of the invasion of their territory.

Billy stood, his head tilted as he listened intently. He heard a melody drifting from the water. It was a strange organization of sounds, predictable as well as dangerous instantly making his skin ripple with terror. Memories of another life flooded back, bringing waves of panic. His pulse raced, and he knew his face and bare back were slick with sweat. It had been years since he’d heard music, so deep were they hidden in the bayou. The discordant noise echoed in his head, assaulting his sensitive ears.

His nose twitched, his lips pulled tightly against his teeth. One of his pack whimpered like a child, he felt them drawing close, their bodies tensing with fear. Suppressing a growl, he forced his hands to unclench. He rolled forward onto the balls of his feet, his stance preparing the others to get ready. His stomach twisted with uneasiness. Where those rhythms originated meant only one thing—they were not alone in the swamp.

– Excerpted from Monsterland by Michael Okon, Chelshire, Inc., 2025. Reprinted with permission.

 

Book Review

4 ½ stars !!

Monsterland is a fast-paced, thrilling horror adventure that delivers both chills and heart. The concept of a theme park built around real monsters is as fascinating as it is terrifying, and Michael Okon makes the danger feel all too real.

The story reminds readers that sometimes the most frightening monsters are the human ones. Wyatt’s determination to protect his friends adds an emotional edge that keeps you rooting for him even as the chaos unfolds.

I found the story to be gripping and imaginative. A definite page-turner!

Disclaimer: This review is merely my opinion and I am voluntarily leaving a review.

About the Author

MICHAEL OKON
is a best-selling author and award-winning screenwriter whose
compelling storytelling spans paranormal, horror, thriller,
action-adventure, and self-help genres. With a BA in English and an MBA
in Business and Finance from Long Island University, Michael merges his
creative passion with entrepreneurial spirit to craft unforgettable
narratives across his novels and screenplays.

Born into a family of avid writers and
readers, Michael’s passion for storytelling runs deep—writing isn’t
just something he does; it’s who he is. Ever since he first watched The Goonies
as a kid, Michael has been captivated by the power of adventure,
compelling characters, and the ability of stories to entertain and
inspire. Whether crafting monster theme parks or penning insightful
guidance in self-help, his goal remains the same: to create narratives
that stick with readers long after they’ve turned the last page.

Michael is a lifelong movie buff, a
music playlist aficionado, a horrendous golfer, and a sucker for
esoteric & self-help books. He lives on Long Island’s North Shore
with his wife and children.

His latest book is Monsterland.

Connect with Michael on X and Instagram.

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BOOK TOUR: The Boat on the Lake of Regret by Christy Matheson

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The Boat on the Lake of Regret
 
by Christy Matheson
 
Publication Date: July 15th, 2025
Series: The Castle in Kilkenny: Fairy Tales Book #6
Publisher: Buttercup Books
Pages: 210
Genre: Historical Fantasy / Fairytale Retelling

 

He has one last chance to be a fairy tale hero.

But she didn’t agree to be the damsel in distress.

 

When her longtime boyfriend unexpectedly slides a ring on her finger, Hannah is whisked from her everyday bedroom to a medieval ball. Hannah knew that Dylan would do anything to prove to her parents that he’s husband material, including going into the Fae world—but she never agreed to go through the Veil herself.

 

Now one of three princess sisters, Hannah is paired with now-Prince Dylan. But, homesick and blindsided, she pretends the Veil has wiped him from her memory.

 

As her prince scrambles in vain to be the right kind of hero, Hannah ignores her instincts and follows her new sisters onto a mysterious boat—which promptly sails them into a land of giants, magical traps, and enchanted pianos…and away from Dylan.

 

Read now to journey back to medieval Ireland, complete with the Fae and mythological monsters, in this fairy tale adventure and sweet “it was always you” romance.

 

Buy Link:

Universal Buy Link

 

Sneak Peek

Conversation with Morálta:

But Morálta just shakes her head. “How should I know? I told you, I just work here.”

“What has happened to Mór and Nuala?” The words burst out of me.

She shrugs again. “I’m not in contact with the giants, so I don’t really have details. Last I saw, Red-beard was hoisting Nuala onto his pillion, and Mór was in Black-beard’s cart.”

“Are they safe?”

She gives me a strange look. “Safety is an illusion, Hannah.”

“But”—I wave my hands around this room—“any more danger than we are in, here?” Which might be considerable.

Morálta rolls her eyes. “It’s not like they are man-eating giants or anything. Black-beard really doesn’t care for those who don’t do their fair share of the work, so I dare say that Mór is going to be doing some scrubbing, and from what I’ve seen of her she’s not going to enjoy it. But hopefully you all have some true loves signed up to come and fetch you home again, right?”

“Maybe…”

Morálta does a double take. “Three princes, three princesses, et cetera, and you couldn’t even fall in love?”

“We didn’t have enough time,” I protest. “They just arrived last night.” Except me.

Morálta sighs, sounding put-upon. “And you couldn’t manage it in one evening? Young people these days. I don’t know why the Seven-Inch-Man didn’t give you three days, which would have fit better anyhow. I’ll put it in my Exit Survey when I finish up here. Now, did you want tea or did you not?”

We both murmur politely that we would like tea, thank you, and Morálta whisks away again.

That was possibly the strangest conversation I’ve ever had. Exit Survey?

Christy Matheson
 
 
Characters you connect with. Adventure. Love. Family… And endings that are more than a sugar rush.
When Christy Matheson is not throwing ordinary characters into fairy tales, she is busy raising five children. (Very busy.) She writes character-driven historical fiction with and without fantasy elements, and her “fresh, smart, and totally charming” stories have won multiple awards.
Christy is also an embroidery artist, classically trained pianist, and sews all of her own clothes. She lives in Oregon, on a country property that fondly reminds her of a Regency estate (except with a swing set instead of faux Greek ruins), with her husband, five children, three Shelties, one bunny, and an improbable quantity of art supplies.

Author Links:

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BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Switched by Angela Lam

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What would you do if you woke up a different age and gender?

Switched

by Angela Lam

Genre: Dystopian Cyberpunk SciFi Fantasy

A global phenomenon is rewriting the laws of biology,
causing men over fifty-five and women between eighteen and forty to suddenly
and inexplicably switch their ages and genders. No one understands it, and no
one can stop it.

Maxine thinks she can stay on the sidelines, supporting her brilliant
boyfriend-turned-girlfriend Jo—an audacious biotech pioneer, who’s breaking new
ground with brain-to-brain communication. But when the transformation strikes
Maxine, her reality is flipped upside down.

Now facing an unexpected future, Max must grapple with their identity,
struggling to align who they were with who they have become. Can they reclaim
control over a life that’s no longer theirs, or will they be swept away by the
changes they never asked for?

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At nine fifteen, a car pulled into the driveway, and a young woman stepped out of the vehicle. She circled around to the trunk, removed several shopping bags, and waved goodbye to the driver who pulled out into the street.

Who is she? Maxine squinted, trying to determine whether she knew the blonde who struggled up the porch steps in kitten heels.

When the woman unlocked the front door and disappeared inside, Maxine gasped. No wonder Joe hadn’t returned her calls and text messages. He had ghosted her for this freakishly tall model who couldn’t walk a straight line in heels.

A flurry of questions erupted in her mind. How long has Joe been dating this woman? Has she moved in with him? Maxine gulped a mouthful of air, and her heartbeat crashed against her ribs. Are they married?

All her mother’s worst fears pelted her. Don’t date a man old enough to be your father. Don’t trust a divorced man. Don’t believe anything rich people say.

Don’t, don’t, don’t.

But she did, did, did.

And now a thick, hot sweat doused her in regret. She tore off the sweatshirt and mopped her forehead. Her phone pinged.

She sniffed, trying hard not to cry. No man was worth crying over. That was what her mother said. Maxine had always thought her mother would have been better off if she had cried after her husband died, but what did Maxine know? She was young and stupid. Falling for a man old enough to be her father. Father! She rubbed the edge of her sweatshirt’s sleeve against the corner of her eyelid before she rummaged in her backpack for her phone.

A quick swipe revealed a message from Joe, who had probably been woken by the live-in woman—she couldn’t think of her as a wife or girlfriend, not yet—who didn’t care that he had lain in bed sick all day, perhaps near dying, too weak to pick up his phone to call anyone, not even the office.

—Sorry to respond so late. Left phone at home by accident.—

Yeah, sure, she scoffed. You’ve been home all day.

Her phone pinged with a response. She widened her eyes. She hadn’t meant to send a thought-to-text. Damn phone. She swiped the screen and read his reply.

—I left at ten and just came home a few moments ago.—

She tried to modulate her breathing, unwilling to send a thought-to-text, but the words flew across her mind.

—That’s a lie.—

—I’m not lying.—

—Then who is the woman who just entered your house?—

Silence.

She glowered at the dark windows of his home. The bedroom faced the backyard. She wondered if the young woman had turned on the lights. Maybe she could sneak a peek through the plantation shutters. She palmed her phone, her thoughts stewing in the worst-case scenario—the young woman, naked in bed with Joe, who wasn’t sick, but taking a day off for what, she didn’t know, and their bodies tangled in a heated mess of arms and legs and God knew what else, maybe some kinky stuff she wouldn’t ever want to try. Was that why he had dumped her? She heaved a sigh. What if she was right? The situation would remain unchanged. She was still a ghosted woman, a betrayed woman, a woman unknowingly caught in a love triangle. She tossed her phone on the seat and started the engine.

Her phone rang.

She pulled away from the curb and drove. The call continued to ring through the stereo speakers. Her hands shook too much to grab her phone off the seat, so she jabbed the button on her steering wheel without knowing who it was—Patty, her mom, Joe, or the other woman.

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up. It’s Joe.”

The high-pitched voice sounded squeaky. Was this the other woman calling to harass her? She lowered her foot against the brakes, slowing for a speed bump. Her heartbeat ratcheted in her chest. What did you say to your lover’s secret wife or girlfriend? If she had just listened to her mother, she would have avoided this mess. Maybe if she apologized, the young woman would leave her alone, and she could go on with her life. Yeah, it would be tough, and she’d miss him, but it wasn’t the end of the world. There were plenty of available men her own age.

“I’m sorry—”

“Why are you sorry? I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me today. Is Patty okay?”

Her jaw stiffened. How long had this other woman been reading Joe’s messages? “I don’t know why you’re doing this to me.” Her voice hitched.

“Because I care.”

“You care?” She laughed, braking at the stoplight. “Why do you care that Joe hurt me?”

“I am Joe.” The exasperation in the woman’s voice echoed throughout the car. “I’ve switched.”

Angela Lam writes across all genres, from romance (The Women
of the Crush series) to memoir (Red Eggs and Good Luck) to thrillers (No
Amends) and science fiction (Switched). Sometimes, she writes under a pen name
to keep things interesting (The Heroic Adventures of Madame X). The rest of the
time, she is busy exploring mixed-media art and teaching others what she knows.

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Switched

BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Rising Ember by Sara Wright

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A kingdom divided will burn

Rising Ember

The Ember Crown Book 1

by Sara Wright

Genre: YA Dystopian Fantasy

Dangerous games. Kill or be killed. Can she survive a king’s ruthless arena?

Clarissa craves an escape. An orphan forced into criminal acts with other kids by their caretaker, she longs to break free and become a healer. But when an archenemy provokes a deadly confrontation, the seventeen-year-old awakens hidden powers in an explosive and fiery defense.

Seized by soldiers and taken to the capital along with her only friend, Clarissa trains alongside other slaves to fight in the royal army. But surrounded by mysterious strangers and running low on trust, the desperate captive fears graduation day will be her last.

Is Clarissa destined to die in chains?

Rising Ember is the thrilling first book in the Forbidden Chronicles YA dystopian fantasy series. If you like strong-willed heroines, nail-biting drama, and clean slow-burn romance, then you’ll love Sara Wright’s action-packed adventure.

Buy Rising Ember to ignite destiny today!

**Get signed & special editions with maps, bookmarks & sprayed edges at Sara’s Store!**

 

Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads

 

The Heart of the Story: Why Flawed Characters Make the Best Heroes I used to believe worldbuilding made a great story—until I realized the emotional journey of flawed characters is what truly hooks readers and makes dystopian fantasy unforgettable. Every good story starts with an interesting premise—the “what if” statement. Then, it gradually integrates character development, emotional arcs, and familiar genre tropes. It feels like constructing a living, breathing entity. For me, story premises are sometimes clear, sometimes not. But without an interesting idea, you may struggle to write an interesting story. If you don’t know what a premise is, here are a few examples of worlds I’ve built so far: What if a giant spaceship crashed and introduced alien technology to a planet and some people developed the ability to wield the elements while others didn’t?–Forbidden Chronicles What if there was a perfect society of space-faring elemental wielders, descendants of the architects of the universe, whose sole mission was to protect people from calamity but faced an ancient evil that was unleashed?–The Progenitor Chronicles But these ideas aren’t enough to make a great story. Ideas are only the starting point, the skeleton of the story, if you will. It’s pure world building which is vastly important for science fiction and fantasy stories, but it’s not the main component to be good. And what you’re really missing is the heart. The heart of the story is your main characters. They will drive the emotions of your readers. If you really want to connect with them, the main characters’ problems must mirror our world. There is nothing more important than giving your characters’ flaws. This is something I didn’t fully grasp with my debut novel, The Progenitor. What was even more difficult is that I created a perfect world with flawless fairytale like royals who didn’t have problems. So I broke utopia. Quickly my main character became a shy princess who hated being in the spotlight, which reflects how I’ve lived my whole life. But that wasn’t enough for the story. She had a single flaw, but she didn’t have a problem to fix. So, I broke it further by taking away the very person who made her feel secure. How would she react when she found out after that person died he had lied to her? Who could she trust now? How would she face the rising darkness that was overtaking her people? And every time I wrote another book in the series, my goal was to break the utopia so that she could rise to fix it. What was my lesson? Never make a perfect character or world ever again. If I had learned that lesson earlier, I wouldn’t have had a ton of drafts for The Progenitor. When I sat down to write my next series (Forbidden Chronicles) I did it with intention. My main character would still be a morally good character, but her past would color her with flaws. Her flaws would become emotional arcs that the main side characters would help her overcome. For example, in the first book of the Forbidden Chronicles, Clarissa wants nothing more than to leave her current life behind. She studies hard to get into medical school, but it’s also her weakness. Her caretaker exploits it to control her, but she doesn’t see how to get out of it. Consider this situation from Rising Ember: Clarissa is being put in an impossible situation where she could lose everything she’s working for: “I really hate asking for help, but given the time frame, I don’t have much of a choice. ‘I have to steal something from the town’s selectman’s office.’”–Clarissa, Rising Ember We learn a lot with this one line. Clarissa doesn’t enjoy asking for help, but she’s desperate, so she’s asking for it anyway. What do desperate people forget to do? Think. And often they become impulsive or rash. After a little back and forth where her friend learns why she’s been asked to do this, Luna pushes back on her: “You know you have other options, right?”–Luna, Rising Ember Her friend is basically pointing out that she doesn’t have to obey her guardian if she doesn’t want to, but it never occurred to Clarissa. She’s been groomed from a young age to fear the consequences of her caretaker, which shapes her identity—a common theme within dystopian literature. And this is a major flaw that she must overcome if she’s going to become the hero her people need. These interplays between characters that fully flesh them out, building them into real human-like figures that make us want to care about them. It makes us want to fight alongside them. It helps us explore ourselves through their struggles. However, people are complex. We often have more than one flaw and so should our characters. And to help them overcome those flaws, we have to use the antagonists in our stories to pull on our character’s emotions. One of the most powerful emotional arcs is love. It’s also an emotion that can easily be exploited by the villain. Every great antagonist places a hero’s loved ones in danger, maybe even making an impossible choice. While I don’t believe a romantic arc has to be at the heart of every story to make it good, love is often the driving force of many stories. Just think of Katniss’s driving force. It wasn’t Peeta or Gale—it was Prim, a sisterly bond. The love story was just a bonus, or a path to a life that she had to choose. However, if the romantic plot is a driving force for the main character, the focus should be on the relationship rather than the physical aspect. Having that deeper relationship actually makes the almost touches and kisses more intense. I think it’s much more entertaining reading about two characters sitting side-by-side crushing on each other. Their heart rate speeds up, and they become hyperaware of the other person. That their hands are only a few inches away from each other is their sole focus. Their pinks slide across the distance and just when they’re about to touch, the teacher asks them a question. It just makes you want to scream, doesn’t it? I adore stories that adapt racy romance clichés into a clean, family-friendly format. Rising Ember utilizes forced proximity, a favorite trope of mine. It creates banter and tension between the characters that would not otherwise be there if they could stay apart. It forces them to be together in a way that deepens their relationship as the story goes on and creates conflicting emotions within the main character. When small moments like this happen: “Gabriel’s presence looms over me as he inches closer, close enough for his breath to tickle my neck, causing goosebumps to rise all over my body.” -Clarissa, Rising Ember Hopefully, you’ll feel those goosebumps too! Once you have your heart in place, the rest of the body will form into a story your readers will love. And of course, when they’re hooked, fully focused on the love story, that’s when you throw in the plot twists, cliffhangers, and rip it all away. Which will likely leave your readers screaming for more. Want to explore more about Clarissa’s journey in Rising Ember? The spark of this alliance starts right here. Sara Wright YA dystopian fantasy High-stakes—elemental powers—no-spice Sarawrightbooks.com

Sara Wright is the author of The Progenitor Chronicles and Forbidden Chronicles, a YA dystopian fantasy series packed with rebellion, elemental powers, and clean slow-burn romance.

She currently lives on Earth, her favorite vacation planet, with her husband and their very opinionated fur baby. But most days, she’s off exploring shattered kingdoms, star-spanning civilizations, and the occasional multiverse with her lifelong companions: Imagination and Creativity.

Raised on bedtime stories and fueled by a steady diet of fantasy, sci-fi, and a sweet topping of romance, Sara now writes tales for readers who crave action, heart, and hope. When she’s not writing, you’ll find her cycling, hiking, or singing dramatically to songs she swears are soundtracks to her books.

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a $10 giveaway!

Rising Ember

BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Crimson Jewel by A. Gordon

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 Book Tour

Crimson Jewel

By

A Gordon

 

About the Book:

Publication Date: June 18, 2025

Genre: Romantasy (Fantasy and Romance)

 A Deadly Game of Dating.

Choose One.

FEE. FIE. FOE. FUM.

     

Ruby spends her days fighting to stay alive in post-apocalyptic Alaska. She doesn’t have time to believe in giants, true love, or fairy tales. That is, until she uses a strange staircase concealed in the forest to escape the latest predator
trying to kill her. While hiding, she’s caught by Raiden, a giant with stormy
eyes and disturbingly sexy fangs. For trespassing, he forces her up the stairs
to his realm.

 

Upon arrival in the Fiefdom, she discovers that she’s the key to unlocking an
ancient prophecy. Desperate for her to stay, the giants offer a deal—if she
agrees to marry a First-Born son of nobility and become queen, they promise
sanctuary to her family. Determined to give her loved ones a better life, Ruby
signs a blood oath that gives her four weeks to choose a husband from the
Fiefdom’s most eligible bachelors.

 

But some giants want her dead. To survive, she’ll need to navigate a web of lies,
discern friend from foe, and thwart multiple assassination attempts, all while
balancing a complicated social life. Will she make it to the altar before she
loses her life—or her heart?

 

Purchase Links:

 

Amazon Kindle

Amazon Paperback

Barnes & Noble

Goodreads

Books-A-Million

 

Guest Post:

The idea for Crimson Jewel sparked from a dream. It all started with Ruby using a strange staircase to hide from a bear. (The lore about random staircases throughout National Forests is fascinating.)  The dream ended with her being captured by a hot giant who really did say, “You’re not welcome here, human.”

I didn’t struggle writing any of the scenes. My biggest struggle was whether Ruby should make a seriously bad decision—one that is heavily frowned upon, yet reasonable to human nature, especially a 22-year-old with no worldly experience. Occasionally, people message me when they get to the end of chapter 27. Thankfully, most forgive me by the end of the book.

Excerpt:

 

Sitting down on the bed, I stared at the heels. They were the final straw of imposter syndrome. You could clean me up, dress me in fancy clothes, and decorate me in jewels, and I still wouldn’t fit in. But it was better than starvation or being eaten by a pack of wolves, so I
pulled on the ridiculous shoes. Unsteady as a newborn filly, I wobbled over to the full-length mirror. I yanked on the crop top, trying to make the fabric longer.

I glanced at Sid, who was watching me intently. “No, judgment,” I chided, not used to so much exposed skin.

Together, we peered out the door, confirming the hallway was empty. With a hand pressed against the wall for balance, my stilettos and I teetered along. I was about to give up and go back to the room to find a different mode of transportation when somebody chuckled. Recognizing the deep timbre, my irritation flared and heat crawled up my cheeks.

I spun around as fast as possible without falling on my derriere. “What? You don’t have anything better to do than laugh at me? Don’t worry, I’m headed back to the room to change out of these stupid shoes.”

“No, I’m sorry. I apologize.” Raiden held up a hand. “You’re just so fierce most of the time, I didn’t think a stupid pair of shoes would be your demise.”

I had to give him an A for effort. He was trying to control his laughter.

“Everyone has their kryptonite,” I said.

His gaze slid down the length of my body. “That they do.” He sounded resigned.

I was surprised he understood the reference, but I didn’t have time to ask before my ankle buckled.

Raiden caught me under both arms, gripping almost my entire ribcage with his hands. The weight of my breasts rested on his thumbs. An uncomfortable warmth pooled in my stomach, and shivers skated over my skin. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you okay?” His gray eyes were level with mine. The pulse in his neck, right above the open collar of his shirt, thumped in rhythm with the rapid beat of my heart.

I took a deep breath and released it slow. “Yes. Thank you.”

He helped me stand, then let go, leaving behind tingling imprints of his hands around my chest. “Do you think if I escort you, you can walk in those things?”

“Yeah, but can’t I just go change?” I whined. I didn’t like relying on anyone. Besides, being close to him made me feel weird. The force was strong in this one. It wasn’t the same as being around Loch—he made me feel self-conscious, like a peasant around a prince.

He glanced down and checked his silver watch. “You can, but being late is heavily frowned upon around here.”

“Okay,” I said, not wanting to be rude.

He held out an elbow, and when I looped it with my own, his skin was searing hot against mine.

“Do you feel okay?” I touched his arm with my free hand.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re so hot.”

A charming but cocky smirk curled his lips. “Thank you.”

I smacked his arm lightly. “No. That’s not what I meant and you know it. It’s like you have a fever.”

“We naturally run hotter than humans.”

Funny, my temperature ran around 100 degrees, which I’d always thought odd, but my mom had assured me it was normal. She’d convinced me a lot of strange things were normal. Like taking vials of mine and Kevin’s blood to work with her. She said she did it because of her job.

“Earlier, you referred to me as a young lady, and now I’ve been demoted to human again?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that. I owe you an apology. I was mad. You interrupted my investigation and I let my irritation get the better of me.”

“Is human a derogatory term?”

“It can be. Some giants don’t like humans. Others, well . . . they like them a little too much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Redness crept up his neck, staining his face pink. “Oh, for Fie’s sake. I’m just making this worse.”

I didn’t argue.

“I don’t dislike humans,” he clarified.

“Dude, should I get you a shovel so you can dig this hole deeper?”

He snorted, then choked out a laugh, his deep-set eyes all but disappearing behind his wide smile. “Yes, please, so I can finish burying myself.”

 

What Readers Are Saying:

OMG, YOU GUYS!! 

If you love romantasy, DON’T SLEEP ON THIS ONE! It’s on KU, but with a cover like that, I had to order a paperback for my shelf. 

FEE FIE FOE FUM. Jack and the Beanstalk for grownups with a Bachelorette twist? Yeah, count me in.  

Bump it to the top of your TBR…STAT. 

Crimson Jewel was an amazing read from beginning to end! Immersive, lush world building, high stakes, and scorching spice had me turning the pages and staying up late just to see what would happen next!

Bea is a strong, savvy FMC that you instantly root for. Each decision she makes is relatable… whether for good or not so good. 

Crimson Jewel is a fresh take on romantasy. It’s unique, cleverly plotted, and the writing is vivid, bringing the world to life in cinematic fashion.  I loved this book from start to finish and very, very highly recommend it!

 Alex Gordon you knocked it out of the park! – A.A. DaSilva (Award Winning Author of Periphery)

 Like any good millennial, romantasy books are my secret guilty pleasure. I’ll be the first to
admit I thought the ACOTAR series was top tier in this category- until I read this book. Forget fairy bat boys, this book unlocked a fantasy I didn’t even know I had- getting smashed by giants.

Action, romance, sass, adventure, this book has it all. The characters are raw and real and this is a brilliant take on an old nursery rhyme. I read it in two days, I couldn’t put it down and I’m definitely adding A Gordon to my list of favorite authors so I don’t miss any of her next
works. (PLEASE tell me there will be a next work!)

Seriously run, don’t walk, to buy this book. 10/10 recommend. 

If you put together Jack and the Beanstalk with a genderbent The Bachelor you get this refreshing and spicy fantasy romance with GIANTS, prophecies, magical kingdoms and HOT
bachelors that will keep you turning pages – Anonymous

 

About the Author:

A. Gordon/Alex Gordon writes Fantasy
Romance and YA/NA Paranormal Romance. She’s a bit of a wanderer, having lived in Washington, Montana, Germany, Alaska, and Tennessee where she currently
resides with her husband and two rescued German shepherds. When not writing,
you can probably find her hiking, or if she’s lucky—fishing, though she’s not
opposed to camping on the couch with dessert and bingeing murder mysteries.

 

Contact Links:

Website: https://www.alexgordonauthor.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexgordonauthor/

Tik Tok: https://www.tiktok.com/@alexgordonauthor

 

Giveaway:

 


Crimson Jewel eBook Giveaway

 

Hosted By:

 

 

BOOK TOUR: A Glimpse Too Far by Karen Charles

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A Pulse-Pounding Thriller Filled with Menace, Betrayal, and a Race Against Time…

 

Title: A GLIMPSE TOO FAR

Author: Karen Charles

Publisher: BookBaby 

Pages: 217

Genre: Psychological Thriller 

Format: Paperback, Kindle

A terrifying gift. A government cover-up. And a past that won’t stay buried.

Elouise thought she had left the past
behind. After a tragic accident, she woke with chilling ability to see
glimpses of people’s pasts and futures. She’s spent years trying to live
a normal life. But when a powerful senator pulls her into a high-stakes
game of deception and control, she realizes her gift is no longer a
secret—it’s a weapon. And he intends to use it.

She must make an impossible choice: play his deadly game or risk everything to expose the truth.

Danger closes in. Now, Elouise is running for her life, hunted by those who will do anything to silence her.

Who can she trust? The boyfriend who swore to protect her? Or the man who wants to own her gift—at any cost?

A Glimpse Too Far is a
pulse-pounding thriller filled with menace, betrayal, and a race against
time. Will the truth be uncovered before it’s too late?

To order your copy, visit Amazon and BookBaby.

Book Excerpt

 

The warmth of the car’s heater wrapped around Elouise as she gazed out the window, watching the snow clouds gather like thick cotton above. Her blond curls bounced with excitement as she tugged at her velvet dress, ensuring it was smooth and perfect for the performance. This was her moment—the Christmas musical, her solo.

Beside her, Crystal, her mom, adjusted her scarf and smiled, noticing the twinkle in Elouise’s bright blue eyes. “Are you ready, Sweetheart?”

“More than ready!” Elouise grinned, her smile wide and full of joy. The eight-year-old’s energy was contagious, even pulling a small chuckle from her dad, Edward, as he carefully parked the car in front of the school.

“Let’s get inside before we freeze,” Edward said, huddling close to the family as they stepped into the sharp wind that whipped around them. They hurried toward the gymnasium, hunching their shoulders against the cold. Christmas carols could already be heard drifting through the entrance doors, filled with the warmth of families gathering, waiting for the performance to begin.

Inside, the air was alive with holiday spirit. Elouise’s heart raced as the lights dimmed and the music began to play. She stood backstage, her hands clasped, waiting for her cue. When it came, she stepped into the spotlight, her curls bobbing with every movement.

Her voice rang out clear and strong, each note perfect. The audience was mesmerized. Elouise had that rare ability to bring a room to a standstill with the purity of her sound. She sang her solo flawlessly. When she finished, the applause was thunderous. Elouise beamed, her eyes shining as she took her bow.

Afterward, as they left the gym, fat snowflakes swirled down from the sky, transforming their world into a winter wonderland. Edward gently guided Crystal and Elouise to the car, his arms around them as they squeezed together.

The drive home was tense. The roads were slick with fresh snow, and the wipers worked overtime to clear the windshield. Edward kept a firm grip on the wheel, navigating cautiously around the bends. Elouise sat in the back, still humming the songs from the musical, her voice soft as the snow that continued to fall heavily around them.

Suddenly, headlights pierced the snowy darkness. From around the bend, an oncoming car swerved out of control. Everything happened in a blur: metal scraping, tires screeching, and the world flipping upside down. The car rolled once or twice before coming to a crushing halt.

Sirens filled the air as firemen and paramedics swarmed the scene, pulling them from the wreckage. Elouise lay motionless, her eyes closed, her curls tangled and limp. The paramedics worked frantically as they loaded her into the ambulance.

On the way to the hospital, her heart stopped.

– Excerpted from A Glimpse Too Far by Karen Charles, BookBaby, 2025. Reprinted with permission. 

Guest Post

The Inspiration Behind A Glimpse Too Far

The inspiration came straight from my own life. The final chapter of A Glimpse Too Far mirrors a profoundly personal experience my husband and I went through, though fictionalized in the broader context of the novel. We had gone to a summer gathering hosted by our mortgage broker at a beautiful lavender farm, an event that had always been lighthearted and joyful. That year, though, a moment of unexpected mystery changed everything.

There was a palm reader at the party, someone we approached more for fun than belief. But what she told us stayed with me, details she couldn’t possibly have known, and predictions that seemed too specific to ignore. We brushed it off at the time, but when one of her forewarnings came true two years later, our world turned upside down. What followed was a harrowing season of surgeries, setbacks, and learning to survive in ways we never imagined. I had to become a nurse, a caretaker, a source of strength when everything inside me was unraveling. But through it all, my husband and I held onto each other, our bond becoming something deeper and more resilient than it had ever been.

That’s where the heart of the story came from, not just the palm reading, but the journey that followed. The mystery. The endurance. The love that refused to let go. A Glimpse Too Far was born from that combination of strange coincidence and raw, lived experience. It’s fiction, yes, but its soul is real. Writing the book became a way to process, reflect, and ultimately share a story about the unseen forces that shape our lives and the courage it takes to face them together.

About the Author

Karen Charles is the author of Freeman Earns a Bike, a children’s book, and two thrillers based on true stories. Fateful Connections takes place in the aftermath of 9/11, and Blazing Upheaval takes place during the Rodney King riots in Los Angeles and the Northridge earthquake. She has two businesses: a global company that
trains international teachers to teach American English, and an Airbnb
on a beautiful bay in Washington State, where she resides with her
husband. Her latest book is the psychological thriller, A Glimpse Too Far.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ www.weaveofsuspense.com  

X ➜  http://www.x.com/karenra24229683 

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/karen.rabe.7/ 

Sponsored By:

BOOK TOUR: Fighter Pilot’s Daughter by Mary Lawlor

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The story of the author as a young woman coming of age in an Irish Catholic, military family…

 

Title: Fighter Pilot’s Daughter

Author: Mary Lawlor

Publisher: Rowman and Littlefield

Pages: 323 

Genre: Memoir 

Format: Hardcover, Paperback, Kindle, Audiobook

Fighter Pilot’s Daughter: Growing Up in the Sixties and the Cold War tells
the story of Mary Lawlor’s dramatic, roving life as a warrior’s child. A
family biography and a young woman’s vision of the Cold War, Fighter Pilot’s Daughter narrates
the more than many transfers the family made from Miami to California
to Germany as the Cold War demanded. Each chapter describes the workings
of this traveling household in a different place and time. The book’s
climax takes us to Paris in May ’68, where Mary—until recently a dutiful
military daughter—has joined the legendary student demonstrations
against among other things, the Vietnam War. Meanwhile her father is
flying missions out of Saigon for that very same war. Though they are on
opposite sides of the political divide, a surprising reconciliation
comes years later.

Fighter Pilot’s Daughter is available at Amazon.

Here’s what readers are saying about Fighter Pilot’s Daughter!

 

“Mary Lawlor’s memoir, Fighter Pilot’s Daughter: Growing Up in the Sixties and the Cold War, is terrifically written. The experience of living in a military family is beautifully brought to life. This memoir shows the pressures on families in the sixties, the fears of the Cold War, and also the love that families had that helped them get through those times, with many ups and downs. It’s a story that all of us who are old enough can relate to, whether we were involved or not. The book is so well written. Mary Lawlor shares a story that needs to be written, and she tells it very well.” ―The Jordan Rich Show

 

“Mary Lawlor, in her brilliantly realized memoir, articulates what accountants would call a soft cost, the cost that dependents of career military personnel pay, which is the feeling of never belonging to the specific piece of real estate called home. . . . [T]he real story is Lawlor and her father, who is ensconced despite their ongoing conflict in Lawlor’s pantheon of Catholic saints and Irish presidents, a perfect metaphor for coming of age at a time when rebelling was all about rebelling against the paternalistic society of Cold War America.” ―Stars and Stripes

 

 
Book Excerpt 

The pilot’s house where I grew up was mostly a women’s world. There were five of us. We had the place to ourselves most of the time. My mother made the big decisions—where we went to school, which bank to keep our money in. She had to decide these things often because we moved every couple of years. The house is thus a figure of speech, a way of thinking about a long series of small, cement dwellings we occupied as one fictional home.

It was my father, however, who turned the wheel, his job that rotated us to so many different places. He was an aviator, first in the Marines, later in the Army. When he came home from his extended absences—missions, they were called—the rooms shrank around him. There wasn’t enough air. We didn’t breathe as freely as we did when he was gone, not because he was mean or demanding but because we worshipped him. Like satellites my sisters and I orbited him at a distance, waiting for the chance to come closer, to show him things we’d made, accept gifts, hear his stories. My mother wasn’t at the center of things anymore. She hovered, maneuvered, arranged, corrected. She was first lady, the dame in waiting. He was the center point of our circle, a flier, a winged sentry who spent most of his time far up over our heads. When he was home, the house was definitely his.

These were the early years of the Cold War. It was a time of vivid fears, pictured nowadays in photos of kids hunkered under their school desks. My sisters and I did that. The phrase “air raid drill” rang hard—the double-A sound a cold, metallic twang, ending with ill. It meant rehearsal for a time when you might get burnt by the air you breathed.

Every day we heard practice rounds of artillery fire and ordinance on the near horizon. We knew what all this training was for. It was to keep the world from ending. Our father was one of many dads who sweat at soldierly labor, part of an arsenal kept at the ready to scare off nuclear annihilation of life on earth. When we lived on post, my sisters and I saw uniformed men marching in straight lines everywhere. This was readiness, the soldiers rehearsing against Armageddon. The rectangular buildings where the commissary, the PX, the bowling alley, and beauty shop were housed had fallout shelters in the basements, marked with black and yellow wheels, the civil defense insignia. Our dad would often leave home for several days on maneuvers, readiness exercises in which he and other men played war games designed to match the visions of big generals and political men. Visions of how a Russian air and ground attack would happen. They had to be ready for it.

A clipped, nervous rhythm kept time on military bases. It was as if you needed to move efficiently to keep up with things, to be ready yourself, even if you were just a kid. We were chased by the feeling that life as we knew it could change in an hour.

This was the posture. On your mark, get set. But there was no go. It was a policy of meaningful waiting. Meaningful because it was the waiting itself that counted—where you did it, how many of the necessities you had, how long you could keep it up. Imagining long, sunless days with nothing to do but wait for an all-clear sign or for the threatening, consonant-heavy sounds of a foreign language overhead, I taught myself to pray hard.

– Excerpted from Fighter Pilot’s Daughter by Mary Lawlor, Rowman and Littlefield, 2013. Reprinted with permission.

From the Author

The Inspiration Behind Fighter Pilot’s Daughter by Mary Lawlor

Fighter Pilot’s Daughter was one of the most difficult projects I’ve ever undertaken.  It was also probably the most important thing I’ve ever done for myself.  Putting the book together was like a process of self-therapy: it had a powerful stabilizing effect that stays with me now.  Part of this came with the clear account the research and the writing made of my family’s zigzagging past.

Like most military families, we moved a lot (fourteen times before I graduated from high school).  And like other Army fathers, my Dad was away often.  My mother and sisters and I would worry about his safety, especially when he was flying in war zones.  He would write my mother fairly regularly for a while, then his communications would dwindle off under the weight of more pressing matters close at hand.  This would leave us wondering how he was, and I often had nightmares of him being captured, imprisoned…

In spite of the fact that we missed him fiercely, Dad’s homecomings weren’t as easy as we expected them to be.  Familiar as he was, his tall frame in the doorway and his blaring blue eyes with that far-away look were strange and frightening.  After a while, we’d get used to him; but I wonder how long it would take him to get used to being home.  He’d been in such a different, all-male world where violence reigned.  At home, there were only women.  My mother and sisters and I knew little about what he’d been through, not just because we were too young to know but because a lot of what he’d been up to was secret.

We never talked about any of this, so our house was a tense, uneasy place when Dad came home.  Indigenous people in many parts of the world have rituals for bringing warriors home—practices aimed at diminishing the potency of trauma and other effects of prolonged exposure to violence.  I guess we’re starting to see something like this in the debriefings and psychological attention given to soldiers and marines returning from war.  But in the sixties there wasn’t anything like it.  Dads just came home, still warriors, and now being asked not to be.

The story of Fighter Pilot’s Daughter had to have a plot—not just the order of our moves but the dramas that accompanied them.  It was difficult enough getting all my father’s military records so I could see the the crazy chain of our moves from one place to another.  It was even harder to go back into memories that reawakened painful feelings of confusion and anxiety that came with being new all the time.  All those scenes where I was a stranger and everybody else belonged still stung.

Making a story out my family life meant describing my parents, sisters, and myself as if we were characters.  I had to give physical portraits, convey personalities and make us say things.  The truth had to be the first priority, but the truth can be messy.  These portraits had to be shaped so readers could make sense of who I was talking about.  I think human character is, in the end, more complex than any literary character.  Picturing human beings in their ordinary rawness is very difficult.  A reader needs a writer to give their literary characters more specific shape and continuity than most of us usually have—features that allow a reader to recognize a person from one page to the next.  In memoirs and biographies, those shapes and continuities have to be made from real materials—the habits and speech styles and surprising ticks of real human beings.  So my family members and me ended up appearing in the book in more definitive shape than we actually had.  Still, these descriptions adhered to the truth of my memory as much as I could make them.

     Writing Fighter Pilot’s Daughter gave me a chance to air the ragged feelings still running in my brain and heart from those days long ago.  Some of these feelings had to do with the work my father did.   As a teenager, I had a hard time understanding how I felt or should feel about the things he did as a warrior.  When I went away to college, I drifted from my parents and made friends with people in left political groups and the anti-Vietnam War movement.  In Paris, in May of 1968, I participated in demonstrations against, among other things, the war my father was fighting At the time, he was posted outside Saigon.  When I saw him again, the tension between us was almost too much.  We had heated arguments, and then for a long we didn’t speak.  Much later my parents and I got to be very close, and I’m deeply grateful for that.  Being retired from military life, Dad had changed dramatically.

I wanted to write about all this so I could sort out those powerful emotions that were still with me.  I hope Fighter Pilot’s Daughter strikes a chord with other military kids.  And I hope it gives readers in general a better understanding of what military kids go through.  When I tell people I grew up in an Army family, they often say Was it like “The Great Santini”?  It’s surprising how often people ask that.  The answer is no.  Santini was an abusive father, and while many soldier fathers are professionally familiar with violence, they don’t necessarily bring it home with them.  Pat Conroy, author of The Great Santini tells a great story, but as he says himself it’s his story, not a representative account of military family life.  His book is is one of the few that features a Marine Corps pilot, his wife and children as the central characters, so it often gets taken as a model of  military family life.

I hope readers of Fighter Pilot’s Daughter see that there are other ways of describing domestic life for service families.  Many of the biggest difficulties for spouses and children are built into the structures of everyday life in military environments.  I hope readers take from my book a sense of how complicated it is to maintain a healthy, optimistic family life when you’re  having to move all the time and when a parent has to spend long months away from home on deployments.  For all the good or ill the armed services might do for America, they can bear down hard on the lives of soldiers’ wives as kids.  And they can make make their lives wildly interesting, as I hope Fighter Pilot’s Daughter shows.

About the Author

Mary Lawlor is author of Fighter Pilot’s Daughter (Rowman & Littlefield 2013, paper 2015), Public Native America (Rutgers Univ. Press 2006), and Recalling the Wild (Rutgers Univ. Press, 2000). Her short stories and essays have appeared in Big Bridge and Politics/Letters.
She studied the American University in Paris and earned a Ph.D. from
New York University. She divides her time between an old farmhouse in
Easton, Pennsylvania, and a cabin in the mountains of southern Spain.

You can visit her website at https://www.marylawlor.net/ or connect with her on Twitter or Facebook.

Sponsored By:

BLURB TOUR: Christmas Watch by Petie McCarty

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CHRISTMAS WATCH

Petie McCarty

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GENRE:  Romantic Suspense

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

The Watchers Series

Fallen angels seeking parole for their betrayal . . .

Someone is watching Rachel . . . but who? And why?

Child psychologist Rachel Kelly has her Christmas stocking full of troubles this holiday season, both personal and professional. Recently separated from her boyfriend, Rachel still loves him but has no idea how to win him back. If that’s not enough to cause her sleepless nights, she’s uncertain how to handle her newest therapy client—a six-year-old boy who claims he talks to Watchers. And a Watcher is coming to help Rachel.

Lt. Jake Dillon has his heart broken when his fiancée Rachel, without warning, suddenly calls it quits. Yet when a stalker crashes Rachel’s Christmas party and takes her young clients hostage, Jake is the first person Rachel calls. Now he has a choice to make—stand back and wait for the cavalry to save her, or step in and try to save her himself. Time is running out, and Jake may be their only chance for rescue.

Unless Rachel’s young Watcher spy is telling the truth . . .

This romantic suspense tale with paranormal elements is Book 2 in The Watchers series . . . A captivating tale of small-town Christmas romance that will leave you looking over your shoulder and wondering, Is someone watching me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt:

“Jake, I came by to see you because of the Buckhead crisis.”

“I figured as much.”

Rachel could’ve sworn he looked disappointed for a fleeting moment. That gave her the courage to go on. “To offer my shoulder—”

“To cry on?” he sneered.

“No! To lean on. Please don’t be ugly.”

“I can’t help it. You broke us up.”

Incredulous, she gaped at him. “Me! Must I keep reminding you? You left me.”

He closed the distance between them, so close she could feel his body heat.

“You let me leave,” he said gruffly.

“I didn’t—”

“You let me leave,” he repeated, his face but inches away.

His unique Jake scent wafted over her. She wanted to smother in it. She wanted . . .

“I didn’t want you to go,” she whispered.

He caught her to him in a fierce embrace. No gentle kiss this. It screamed of need and anger and desperation. His. Hers. She didn’t know for sure. Didn’t care. She wanted to cry from the relief of having his arms around her again.

Knuckling her fists into his warm tee shirt, she tried to yank him closer, but the shirt was old and stretched unmercifully. His lips smiled against hers as he grabbed a breath and then kissed her again, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers.

She could die from his wonderful familiar taste. She savored, remembered, and stored for later. Giving up on the shirt, she wound her arms around his neck to tug him closer, to pull him into her if she could.

Suddenly, his hands at her hips pressed her back, and she shamelessly hung on tighter. He reached up and worked her hands free, then kissed each one.

His eyes had gone black. This close, she could clearly see. No doubt a reflection of hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Petie spent a large part of her career working at Walt Disney World—”The  Most Magical Place on Earth”—where she enjoyed working in the land of fairy tales by day and creating her own romantic fairy tales by night, including her new series, The Cinderella Romances. She eventually said good-bye to her “day” job to write her stories full-time.

These days Petie spends her time writing new Cinderella series tales, her new The Watchers series, sequels to her regency time-travel series, Lords in Time, and more contemporary romance standalones to go along with her two previous releases—Any Fin For Love and Ambush in the Everglades.

Petie shares her home on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee with her horticulturist husband and an opinionated Nanday conure named Sassy who made a cameo appearance in Book 2 of The Watchers, Christmas Watch.

Visit Petie’s web site online at http://www.petiemccarty.com or her Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/petie.mccarty.

BIO Social Media:

http://www.petiemccarty.com

https://www.facebook.com/petie.mccarty

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6094579.Petie_McCarty

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/petie-mccarty

http://www.amazon.com/author/petiemccarty

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Petie McCarty will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.

Enter to win a $10 Amazon/BN GC – a Rafflecopter giveaway.

BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Unholy Cross by Beth D. Carter

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Deadly & Ruthless, Book 1

 
Dark Romance

Date Published: May 7, 2025

Publisher: Evernight Publishing

Aera Cross is a man forged by hardship. His childhood, marred by pain
and abuse, has left him with scars that run deeper than the skin. Survival has
been his only mantra, that he’s learned to navigate with a hardened
heart. But when a desperate father approaches him with a plea to rescue his
‘daughter’ from the clutches of a sadistic doctor, Cross finds
himself at a crossroads.

The photo of Lorelei, a girl with an ethereal beauty, ignites something within
him—a flicker of hope amidst the darkness. Lorelei possesses a gift that
is both a blessing and a curse: she can heal with a touch. But this
extraordinary ability has made her a target, sold to the highest bidder and
forced to perform for those who seek to exploit her powers. Each transaction
chips away at her soul, leaving her a mere shadow of the girl she once was.

On the night of her daring escape, Lorelei stumbles into Cross’s world.
Though she is wary of this rugged stranger, she has no choice but to trust
him. Together, they embark on a perilous journey, where danger lurks at every
corner and the lines between savior and sinner blur.

Excerpt

            The passenger door yanked open and very large man slid into the seat. Fear exploded through her. She couldn’t go back. She might have defended her life by killing a man, but she’d rather die than return to that cell. As she fumbled with the car handle to open in a desperate move to escape, the man reached over and caught her wrist. Instinct and desperation caused her to fight back, thrashing around in an effort to free herself.

Why? Why couldn’t luck be on her side for once?

            “I’m not going to hurt you!” the man muttered. “You can’t take this car to escape. They’ll track you. Listen to me, Lorelei!”

            Her name slipping from his tongue jolted her, and his words slowly penetrated the terror robbing her of sanity. Then she took a closer look at the man. It was hard to tell his eye color in the dark. Short hair. Bold, masculine features. Tattoos on one side of his neck. He wore a leather jacket, jeans and black boots. By his look alone, he wasn’t an employee.

            “My name is Aera Cross, and I’ve come to rescue you. Although you managed that very well on your own.”

            Suddenly, the alarm sounded, and lights flooded the perimeter. For a moment, she froze. Panic overrode any logical thought. Then Cross left the car and ran around to the driver’s side. Before she could blink, he took her hand and yanked her out. He looked down at her feet and frowned.

            “Where’re your shoes, woman? Actually, never mind. We have to get away from here.”

            He picked her up bridal style and ran into the darkness.

About the Author

 I’m passionate about weaving tales of romance and connection, inviting
readers into worlds where love conquers all. Crafting heartfelt stories and
steamy scenes that make the pulse race, as well as dreaming up the next
swoon-worthy adventure. I love to weave emotions into my stories that punch
you in the gut. I try to write characters who aren’t cookie cutters and push
myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve,
forcing me to think outside the box. I strive to create characters who are
complex and full of flaws. Deep passion romance between heroes and heroines
who find redemption through love.

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Instagram

Threads

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

Smashwords

Publisher

a Rafflecopter giveaway

BOOK TOUR: The Next Breath by Laurel Osterkamp

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Some love stories don’t have clean endings—and some heartbreaks never quite heal. In The Next Breath, Laurel Osterkamp brings us a poignant, layered novel about grief, performance, and the blurry lines between memory and truth.

Robin was young when she gave Jed her whole heart, even though he warned her not to. His love was intense, beautiful, and ultimately fleeting—his death shattered her sense of safety, love, and identity. Now, ten years later, Robin is finally beginning to breathe again. She’s with Nick, a kind and genuine man who makes her laugh and helps her feel seen. But Robin hasn’t told him everything. Before they met, she agreed to star in a play Jed wrote for her before his death. As rehearsals begin and Jed visits her in haunting dreams, Robin realizes she’s emotionally divided—caught between a man who’s very much alive and one she never said goodbye to. Can she open her future to Nick if she still lives in Jed’s shadow?

Amazon: http://bit.ly/3GeVJqO
Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/212336698-the-next-breath

Excerpt

We hovered for a moment, moving towards each other. When our lips met, his mouth was soft, inviting, and powerful enough to make my toes curl. He let out a little sigh, like he was relieved to be kissing me, but before I could wrap my arms around his shoulders, he stepped away.

“No,” he said. “This is a bad idea.”

“Why?” I tried to sound jokey, light. “You’ll sleep with anything that moves.”

He matched my tone. “That’s not true. I’ll only sleep with human females, in my age range, and attractive.”

“Don’t I fit that requirement?”

He looked me up and down, his nostrils flaring. “Yeah, of course you do.”

“Then why?”

Jed stepped back again, making new space between us. “I just think we’re better off as friends.”

I squared my shoulders to pretend I wasn’t wounded. “If it’s because you think you’ll corrupt me, don’t worry. I’m not a virgin.”

“Okay.” He raised his hands in defeat and kept his voice steady, like I’d bite him if he wasn’t careful. “Look, I’m not in a relationshipy place right now; I can’t be, with all my health issues. If we were together, you’d have high expectations because that’s how you are.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I see you, Robin. You don’t hide or lower your standards. I like that about you, but it also makes us bad for each other.” Lines crumpled his forehead as he held my gaze. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I leaned against the side of the house. How had I gotten to this point, practically begging Jed to have sex with me? I was a pathetic cliché.

“No, you’re right.” I forced out a weird, strained laugh. “We’d regret it, you and me…” I tilted my head towards the stars and groaned. “Never mind. Delete the last couple of minutes from your memory.”

I turned to go inside.

“Robin…” He grabbed my arm and I let him pull me towards him. The yearning on his face told a different story to the one he’d just recited. I put my hand at the base of his neck, but withdrew my fingers in shock.

“Oh my God. You’re burning up.” His forehead was clammy and hot and not the way a healthy forehead should be.

He ducked from my touch. “I’m fine,” he growled.

“No you’re not.”

He started to hack. “Just tired.”

“Can I help you get home?”

“I don’t need your help. And I’m not ready to leave yet.”

He slammed the door as he went back into the party.

About the Author

Laurel Osterkamp writes the kind of fiction that lingers—heartfelt, reflective, and character-driven. Her novels often explore themes of grief, growth, love, and the stories we tell ourselves to survive. In addition to being an Amazon bestselling author (Beautiful Little Furies), Laurel teaches adult ESL and middle school enrichment classes, and lives in Minneapolis with her family and a couple of argumentative cats. She has a penchant for running while listening to twisty audiobooks and for rewatching Beverly Hills, 90210 with near-academic zeal. Learn more at laurellit.com or follow her on Instagram.