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BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: The Chimera Snare by S & E Black

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Witness the vile acts of a monstrous heart. đŸ«€

 


Witness the vile acts of a monstrous heart. đŸ«€

Feel the vicious clash of duality in conflict. ⚔
Know the light of protection through valiant courage. đŸ›Ąïž


The Chimera Snare: Reflections

The Chimera Snare Book 2

by S & E Black

Genre: Dark Epic Fantasy



-Winner: 2026 Literary Titan Gold Book Awards: Fiction
-2nd Place: 2026 BookFest Awards – Fiction- Dark Fantasy
-Book Nerdection “Must Read”
-Readers’ Favorite: 5 Stars

 

Von is cast into the pages of Ananael, the Order’s tome of secret knowledge. However, his venture into the past takes an unexpected turn as he awakens within a cosmic void in the presence of the eternal being, who grants him perspective through others woven through his existence. Yet before he may commence his time-altering quest, a trial of discovery, revelation, and horror surrounding his origin awaits him.

Benson’s monstrous heart sews the seeds of a vile past brimming with betrayal and hate. Through unimaginable deceptions and buried secrets, familial bonds once forged from love, honor, and acceptance are upended and broken forever. The souls of integral births, sprouting from pillaged and neglected foundations, unfurl a path towards disarray.

Distorted memory fragments challenge Von’s grip on reality, and the reveal of a horrid truth ignites a vicious fury of vengeance. Though his quest for answers falters along the way, he finds help from an unexpected ally. Meanwhile, a mysterious power awakens within Navaryn, putting her at odds with both her friends and herself. And as the motivations of Celestine’s leader become questionable, her suspicions involving her role within the Halryn continue to grow.

As the disparate worlds of Celestine and Daeva teeter on the brink of war, Von and Navaryn are drawn together by unseen forces. Two destinies, once parallel, now collide. But where bloodshed beckons, a valiant act of courage challenges the course of their fates.

 

Clay Urn Publishing * Amazon * Apple * B&N * Bookbub * Goodreads

 



At last, an uneasy silence fell upon the sopping wet grounds, though the shambled arena creaked eerily. Von quickly Paralleled to the ground and proceeded to walk toward Navaryn’s limp body lying in a muddy crater several meters away. As he gradually brought his power down, his claws began to retract, and his horns receded into his skull. Clutching his side as he trotted along, he heard clamoring voices in the distance and a distinctive pair of boots running through the mud towards him.

“Von!” shouted a sober Claymar. “Wow, you’re alright.” He ran to his side and acted as a crutch to hold him upright. “That was, uh, really something back there. Care to explain what all that was?”

“Later,” said Von exhaustedly. “Where’s your uncle?”

“On his way, most likely. He nabbed Illiya and had her scout for other Celestines while you were off playing with the shimmery blue one. Why do you ask?”

“I need to know how much time I have,” Von replied.

“Time? For what?” he asked, peering ahead at Navaryn. His eyes widened as she slowly began to stir.

“Hold it, Clay,” ordered Von, pressing his hand against his chest to break his stride.

“What are you worried about? You got her!”

“It’s not that.”

Claymar scrunched his face and asked suspiciously, “Then what is it?”

“She’s strong,” said Von. “Immensely strong. She very well could have killed me.”

“Uh, but you’re the one still standing, are you not? Can’t be that strong,” he teased.

“Something happened, though. She lost control. Her power spiked with mine, but didn’t stay with her.”

“Ha! You almost sound like you feel sorry for her.”

Von ignored Claymar’s remarks and walked towards Navaryn, who was slowly rising to her knees with her back to him. Claymar followed behind, but Von turned to him with a furious eye.

Claymar folded his arms and asked, “W-what are you doing?”

The rain calmed, and the moon peeked through the parting clouds, casting a peaceful light onto the glistening, moist ground. Von drew closer, catching silver scintillations atop the bloodied and scorched wounds on her back.

Navaryn winced in pain as she struggled to rise to her feet, chattering her teeth as the cold, wet mud chilled her bruised skin. As squelching footsteps neared, she spun around. “W-who’s there?” she uttered, shielding the moonlight from her eyes with her forearm.

Navaryn’s inquisition made Von stop in his tracks. As her eyes adjusted to the razor-sharp rays of light over his silhouette, she quickly recognized the warm glow of his crimson eyes.

“Stop! Don’t hurt him!” Navaryn cried out.

Her strange and sudden outburst jolted Von. He looked around to find who she was pleading to, but saw no one.

“Wh-what happened to me?” Navaryn asked herself as she gazed down at her hands.

The confusion in her voice affirmed Von’s earlier assessment. “You’re fine now,” he assured. “You’re back.”

Navaryn’s eyes widened as she looked back up at Von. With the simplest of words, uttered with a palpable coldness, he gave her comfort and validation. In him, she found the first person able to convey an understanding of what she was going through when all others couldn’t begin to. An essence dwelt within her. One that seized control of her body once triggered into play, and left her only with the ability to spectate. A similar plight rang true for Von regarding his notorious beastly transformation. Yet, as his second encounter with Navaryn unfolded, his energy had learned to work in tandem with the essence that would otherwise overcome him. Von and Navaryn became locked in a stare just as before, only this time without the presence of aggression. They saw themselves in each other, in a reflection no longer distorted.

“Hey, Von!” Claymar called out. “Um, not sure what you’re doing over there, but you should know the cavalry is incoming.”

Sidwell approached with his entourage of soldiers and a vexed group of eastern Daeva in tow. As the last of his squadron funneled out of the arena, many of the ceremony attendees emerged from hiding within the surrounding brush and trees. Mixed in among the crowd were the rest of Daeva’s leaders, Killian, Morgan, Adair, and Godric, with Merisek alongside them. Weaving through the approaching crowd was Joro, whose surreptitious footsteps evaded the spotlight. Although the chattering among the crowd was indistinct, even for Von’s hearing, he could feel the tension steadily rising.

Sidwell stroked his gray, scraggly goatee, suspicious of the pair’s peculiar exchange. Marching with mighty strides, flaunting his prowess, Illiya approached him from the side.

“Have you done what I asked?”

“Yes, sir,” Illiya replied. “I’ve scouted thoroughly, and there’s no sign of any Celestine formations in the surrounding area. She seems to be the only one.”

“A spy. Just as I suspected. And a dumb one at that. She tipped a bartender with Celestine coin,” he replied with a chuckle as he dismissed his lieutenant.

Sidwell and his entourage moved in to surround Navaryn.

“Well, it took you long enough. But you managed to take down the Celestine without incident to life. That’s as much of a ‘thank you’ that you’ll get out of me,” Sidwell uttered to Von before addressing the chattering crowd. “People of Daeva! You’ve now witnessed our realm’s very threat with your own eyes
”




The Chimera Snare: Fragments

The Chimera Snare Book 1



-Winner: 2025 International Impact Book Awards – Fantasy
-2nd Place: 2025 BookFest Awards – Fiction- Dark Fantasy
-Winner: 2024 Indies Today Awards – Best Urban Fantasy
-Winner: 2024 Literary Titan Gold Book Awards: Fiction
-Finalist: 2024 Literary Global Fiction/Debut & Dark Fantasy Sci-fi
-Book Nerdection “Excellent Read”

 

For Rayshell and her best friend Trish, senior year of high school is going to hell in a handbasket. The feud between Celestine and Daeva is bleeding into their world. When a mysterious visitor infiltrates her dreams, Rayshell is thrust into a realm of profound, otherworldly secrets. Together, Rayshell and Trish uncover the unbelievable—they are the living vessels for two banished Celestine guardians.


Amidst mystical recollections and a wondrous magic system that shatters the veneer of their everyday lives, the two friends embark on a journey against time to connect with the Celestine guardians’ allies in hopes of freeing them from their imprisonment. Simultaneously, the shadows cast by Daeva darken. The notorious outlaw, Merisek, has positioned himself to claim dominion over the Order of Existence—a trio of powerful artifacts capable of reshaping reality. Armed with two of these relics, Merisek races against the emergence of the Celestine guardians to claim the third. The stage is set for a showdown that will determine the fate of existence itself.


Rayshell and Trish are all that stand between Merisek and his unhinged desire to twist the fabric of reality into his making. As the threads of destiny unravel, the question looms: who will be the author of existence, and what profound truths will be unveiled in the final, decisive act?

 

Clay Urn Publishing * Amazon * Apple * B&N * Bookbub * Goodreads

 




Breathing anxiously, Navaryn clomped atop a patterned runner carpet in her dirty boots. The gilded elements within the maroon corridor flashed as she passed under the waving candlelight of each chandelier. Though she tried her hardest to refrain, her eyes wandered back to the series of haunting paintings hanging on the walls. From treasured times with Von, Lowenna, and Claymar to bouts of training and battles in Opiri and Celestine, each painting depicted a memory from Navaryn’s past, seen through her eyes. Brimming with tears, she continued down the damned corridor with no end in sight and no way to turn back. Behind her, a cloud of darkness kept a close pace and consumed all that she passed.

Navaryn’s heart fell to her toes as the next painting came into view. Captured inside the ornate golden frame was Von lying shirtless on his back, in a moment of ecstasy. His lips, delicately parted, wore the glossy sheen of her passionate kiss, and his tense red eyes were rolled toward the headboard behind him. The very memory was etched within her mind so profoundly that looking upon it in such an outright fashion set her heart ablaze. Confused, distraught, and with no other choice but to press forward, Navaryn sprinted ahead unheedingly.

The corridor eventually ended at a remarkably ornate, dark wooden door. With the cloud of looming darkness twisting behind her, Navaryn wiped away her tears and steadied her breathing as she pushed it open. Amidst the scant candlelight, the gilded elements within the capacious room twinkled like gems inside a cave. She carefully scanned the room until she happened upon a curvy figure cloaked in elegant red and golden brocade standing by the far wall.

“Hello?” she called, but no answer came.

Navaryn turned back to the door and found a wall in its place. Apprehensively, she placed her fingertips where she remembered the doorjamb to be only moments before. As she motioned to approach her obscured, gilded companion, her gaze fell upon an immense painting hanging in the middle of the joining wall. One after another, the candles around the room caught fire.

With a racing heart, Navaryn muttered, “What is this?”

Standing arm in arm in garish, clinquant garb, Navaryn saw herself beside Kumiko as they gestured proudly to a Celestine crowd below. The false instance and her disturbing, unfamiliar expression, painted as if captured through a spectator’s eyes, sent chills down her spine.

Navaryn turned away but found the very same toothy, prideful smile mocking her from within the other paintings hanging on the walls. Her face soured in disbelief as she skimmed over them. She was depicted prominently, boasting her pristine Celestine wings beside Benson and Kumiko, sitting tall above the Halryn council. Just as well, she found herself pictured beside Kumiko in a catalog of moments when they had started a family. Yet, not a single painting in the cursed room housed her beloved friends Lowenna and Claymar, her dearest Von, Aalrija, Fallon, or the number of others who held a special place in her heart.

Dizzy from a fit of rapid respiration, Navaryn struggled to maintain her composure. When her eyes fell back upon the painting of her pregnant belly, draped in fine silvery velvet and lace, she frantically ran toward the embellished figure. Through teary eyes, her vision quaked with a white blur, and she lost her balance under her clumsy feet.

“What is this place?!” shouted Navaryn as she gripped the shimmery train of the woman’s dress.

The sound of Navaryn’s incessant crying filled the silent room. Lost in her despair, she felt the fabric slip from her hands as the woman turned around, gently hushing her. Her eyes jolted open once the delicate coos caught her ear. Fearful for what she knew she would see, she slowly raised her face to the woman.

“Everything that surrounds you here in this room will now be set into motion,” said the woman, placing her decorated hands upon Navaryn’s cheeks. “For our imperator commands it.”

The gentle voice and placid countenance, framed in a headdress of gemstones and twinkling gold, was undeniably her own.

Navaryn recoiled in disbelief. “Our imperator? Benson?”

She watched the sparkling ruby-painted lips of her doppelganger curl into a smile. “Look around you. Your imperator is no longer Benson.”

The ominous statement immediately coaxed heavy tears to her eyes. “I want nothing to do with anything here!” she roared with flashing white eyes. “This is not my life!”

Navaryn’s decorated doppelganger gestured toward a multitude of paintings that suddenly materialized from the shadows. Following a light chuckle, she replied, “You’ve never had a choice in the matter. It’s a shame you didn’t realize it sooner.”

One by one, the paintings morphed perspective, appearing as though they were moments Navaryn had experienced firsthand, like the ones that hung in the corridor.

“What’s happening?!” Navaryn shouted, then jumped to her feet.

One haunting image in the distance immediately grabbed her attention. While she approached the painting in disbelief, her doppelganger strolled to the far wall, placed her hand against a door concealed by darkness, then saw herself out of the room without another word.





Guest Post:

Can you, for those who don’t know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author?

Shannon: My name is Shannon Vierra, and I go by the pen name S. Black. I’m an urban gardener and an avid seed collector. In the makeup community, I go by the moniker zoomzoommacaron and host an international, zombie-vibes makeup collab called the #zombabescollab. I enjoy anime, horror movies, craft beer & kombucha, cooking (and eating), sunbathing, photography, and singing badly. I got into writing when I was a kid, mostly creating small, fantastical stories and with accompanying art.

Edward: My name’s Edward, everyone calls me Eddy, and I write under the pen name E. Black. I’m an avid music lover who’ll listen to anything, but I consider myself a metalhead at heart, and I also play bass guitar. I dabble in photography as well with no real subject focus – I’ll just shoot if I see something special hiding in plain sight. Enjoying craft beer, anime, concerts, and making a nice bowl of ramen are some of my favorite things. I’ve always loved creative writing since I was a teenager, but I got serious about it when my wife and co-author invited me into her world and asked me to write the series with her.

What is something unique/quirky about you?

Shannon: Well, I have a couple of food-related quirks. I don’t like my butter to melt into my toast and make it soggy, so I wait for the toast to get cold first, then put the cold butter squares on top. Also, I hate cereal that makes the milk too sweet, so sometimes if there’s a sweet cereal I like, I have a glass of milk and eat the cereal dry on the side like chips.

Edward: I am very precise and orderly when it comes to certain things, and I’m the total opposite with others. For instance, when I’m cooking, I tend to be very neat and organized with every step from prep to presentation. At the same time, my desk is a mess a lot of the time, and I’m terrible with leaving dirty clothes around the bedroom. It’s like I’m two people in one at times.

Shannon: Mmmhmmm
 le sigh.

Tell us something really interesting that’s happened to you!

Shannon: I’m an urban gardener who gets obsessed with growing what they want. Back in my Food Network binge days, I discovered blood oranges were a thing, and all I wanted was a blood orange tree. Sadly, at the time in California, they were illegal to grow, and you couldn’t have a tree shipped to you. I couldn’t find them in grocery stores to eat either, which was my next idea, because you know I’m going right for those seeds (and yes, even though they might not turn out the same as the parent plant, I was determined to try). I found a seller in Canada who was selling blood orange seedlings and must not have done their homework about the regulations, and I managed to get one. Alas, I killed it within about a month. About 3ish years later (when I still answered unknown calls, lol), I got a call from the USDA asking about the purchase and whether or not I still had the blood orange tree. I told them the truth that the seedling died, but also asked what would happen if it didn’t and I still had it. They told me they would confiscate it, meaning cut it down and rip it out if I happened to plant it in the ground. Later that afternoon after I got home from work, I found a door tag informing me that a USDA inspector had searched the property for said blood orange tree. I couldn’t believe the trouble over a little seedling. I still have the door tag! Then, not but 2-3 years later, I found blood orange trees for sale at local home improvement stores. Yes, I immediately bought one.

Edward: This is a bit embarrassing, but when I was in high school, I discovered I had a pair of stalkers – scary ones. I was hanging out with a friend after school one day when this random girl walks up to me, asks me if my name is “Edward,” to which I’m like “Yeah.” She then hands me a notebook, then scurries away pretty quickly. I’m thoroughly confused, but I go ahead and open the notebook. And what I found inside was a slew of written exchanges between two girls talking about me. Things like detailed observations of me walking through the halls, to some truly unspeakable things that they were, at one point, plotting, among other things. Needless to say, it freaked me out and made me feel pretty gross. I threw that thing in the fire.


Husband & Wife author duo Shannon Vierra & Edward Ayllon write under the pen name S & E Black. Together, they craft the award-winning series, The Chimera Snare. They share a deep appreciation for music and credit a great number of bands and artists for inspiring their writing journey. Currently, they live in the greater Chicago area amidst a rich and diverse culture with their clowder of rescue cats.

Shannon is an urban gardener and an avid seed collector. In the makeup community, she goes by the moniker zoomzoommacaron and hosts an international, zombie-themed makeup collab called the #zombabescollab. She also enjoys anime, horror movies, craft beer & kombucha, cooking (and eating), sunbathing, photography, and singing badly. Music fuels Shannon’s many passions, especially writing and creating art. She credits music with saving her life on multiple occasions in her teenage and young adult years.

Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, Edward first discovered the joys of creative writing through his early high school studies, and has spent many years exploring and developing a deep appreciation for the arts. Since first collaborating with his wife, Shannon, he has sprouted a passion and true affinity for storytelling and crafting literature. In addition to refining his skill in creating written works, his other interests include playing bass guitar, listening to music, and dabbling in photography.

 

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bluesky * TikTok 

Bookbub * Bookbub * Goodreads * Goodreads



Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!


Enter The Chimera Snare Giveaway Here


BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Land of Two Moons by D.L. Gardner

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Political unrest, war over valuable mines, forbidden love,
and a homesick dragon bound in chains threaten the land of two moons.

Land of Two Moons

by D.L. Gardner

Genre: YA Epic SciFi Fantasy Adventure

“The gritty
reality of trench warfare and the smoky chaos of riots is striking in D. L.
Gardner’s Land of Two Moons…a rich and ambitious fantasy novel that
successfully builds a world trembling on the brink of magical and political
upheaval. This is a delicate, intricate novel that rewards patient
reading.” – Independent Book Review

 

Arthur and Hallie are twin siblings, son and daughter of the
Duke of Lodesmoor. Humble teenagers who befriend the village people and
sympathize with their grievances. Their father, Lord Balmier, whose duchy is
approaching financial collapse, uses his subjects as pawns in a battle over a
string of valuable mines.

Lord Balmier sees his son’s sympathy toward the serfs as an
alliance against him and soon acts to squelch Arthur’s sedition.

Hallie clings to a forbidden love, and both siblings must
resist their father’s harsh rule.

All the while they are unaware that their mother keeps a
mystical dragon named Killian, bound in chains by a spell, whose fate will
affect them all.

As the twin moons approach a rare and magical eclipse,
alliances shift, secrets unravel, and Arthur and Hallie must choose between
loyalty, freedom, and sacrifice to save their people and themselves.

 

“With strong
pacing and a cast of memorable characters – including a homesick dragon, this
is the perfect book for fans of the ‘fantasy’ genre. Highly recommended!” – The
Wishing Shelf

 

 

***Check
out the kickstarter campaign!**

 

Amazon * B&N * Books2Read

Land of Two Moons will be a limited edition leather
hardcover signed and numbered, a special edition case laminate hardcover, an
eBook, and a paperback with printed edges. A rigid slip case is available for
the hardcovers. 

 

***Check
out the kickstarter campaign!**


Prologue

     Pattin didn’t know what they were fighting for. All he
knew was that when their commander yelled the order he was to let loose his
arrows toward another trench opposite theirs somewhere in the Red Sands desert.
Rumor was they were fighting over mines, dukes, power, and money. Nothing he’d
ever be privy to. It didn’t matter. He was here because he’d been conscripted.

He’d been in this trench for nine days straight. Hot,
drenched in sweat, sick to his stomach, and with little to eat or drink. Tired
of swatting flies and stepping over the bodies of his comrades, he was ready to
leave. No one wanted to be here, especially not the lads from Bidsworth, and
especially not on the front lines.

He spat the dust out of his mouth and bit another piece
of jerky.

“When is she going to come for us?” he asked his
friend.

“Tonight, they said. Maybe,” Ivan whispered.

“What do you mean, maybe? She promised.”

“She can only take five at a time.”

“Bloody Marks, she’s been here every night for a week.
What’s she going to do, get everyone but us? The more people who leave, the
less chance of survival for those who stay. I’m too young to die in this rat
hole.”

Ivan shrugged—a hint that he wasn’t happy about the
situation either.

“We could try and make a run for it on our own,” Pattin
whispered, his lips barely moving, glancing around the desolate countryside.

Over the sand, the heat waves danced, crafting a mirage
of water, a deceptive illusion that only a fool would pursue. Bait for the
enemy. Pattin licked his lips, wishing for a drink of cool water from the
springs in Bidsworth, his homeland, a wealthy duchy whose stone structures
mirrored the color of the red earth. Here in the wasteland, iron ore poisoned
the vegetation, and there was nothing but dust as far as the horizon. The
soldiers hated this place, and rumors of desertion were burning the ears of the
agents at base. The officers were watching the troops like hawks.

“Fool. We’d have bolts in our backs, dead. Is that what
you want? If I’m going to desert, I’m doing it with Kezia.” Ivan wiped the
sweat from his brow; his face caked with red earth. Even his eyelashes were
laden with dirt.

“What makes her so special that she can get us out with
no one noticing?”

Ivan snickered and glared at him. “She’s the duke’s
daughter, remember? Plus, she’s smart, crafty, and wicked.”

“Duke sabotages his own army through his daughter!”
Pattin mumbled.

“Stop complaining or she’ll never come and get you.”

Pattin wiped his brow, his mouth fixed in a frown. She
might not come for him at all. It’s everyone else’s luck to be saved by a
duchess.

“Heads up!” The dreaded warning arrived just
as a flurry of bolts blotted out the sun.

Pattin covered his head with his shield. Ivan lifted
his own targe to cover his body while the plummeting projectiles thundered on
it.

“Move!” came the command.

Like a terrified beetle, Pattin crouched on the ground
and joined the others, locking his shield with Ivan’s as the company crawled
through the trench, hands and knees bleeding, while avoiding the corpses of
friends who didn’t survive. Away from the onslaught they moved, abandoning
their supplies. Someone would be sent back for them when the sun settled on the
horizon and the two moons rose.

Soon everyone here would have to leave the trenches and
charge at the enemy. That was a standard maneuver, and it was just a matter of
time. Hand to hand combat would kill him, Pattin was certain. With practiced
ease, he could loose an arrow, always striking the mark. But his end would come
by the cold steel of a sword. He hoped it would be tomorrow. He wasn’t ready to
die today.

Maybe Kezia would draw his name and come for him
tonight. Maybe he would live through this bloody war, after all.


D.L. Gardner is an
award-winning author, artist, filmmaker, and screenwriter with over 28
published works to her credit. Writing and painting are her passions and
fantasy her forte. When she’s not pounding keys on the computer, she’s canning
salsa, picking apples, listening to the voices of critters in the woods, or
watching flowers grow. She loves visiting far-off lands through books by both
reading and writing.

 

Her genres include all fantasy,
historical, and mystery.

 

Get to know D.L. through her websites and blogs or send her a message her on Kickstarter.

 

Currently a FINALIST (2025 March) in
the Cannes World Wide Film Festival for her screen adaption of her book An
Unconventional Mr. Peadlebody.

 

Other awards include Wishing
Shelf book Award 2023 for audio, B.R.A.G. Award 2022 for the Cho Nisi series,
Book Excellence Award 2019 and 2015 for Ian’s Realm and Cassandra’s Castle.
Best Screenplay adaptation from her book Dylan at the Paris Screenplay Awards,
Mile Hill International Screenplay Awards, L.A. Edge Awards, European
Cinematography Awards, and Moondance Film Festival. Best Screenplay Award for
adaptation from her book An Unconventional Mr. Peadlebody at Veers Film
Festival, Best Screenplay Award for adaptation of Ian’s Realm at the Twin Falls
Sandwiches Film Festival and many more.

  

Website * Newsletter * Facebook * Instagram * Bookbub * Goodreads

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

Enter the Land of Two Moons Giveaway Here

BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: The Golden Sword by Janet Morris

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Estri battles to regain her identity after being denied her
memories by her captor.

Will love find a way?

The Golden Sword

The Silistra Quartet Book 2

by Janet Morris

Genre: Dystopian Epic SciFi Fantasy Romance

Dystopia. Biology shapes reality. The further adventures of
the most beautiful courtesan in the galaxies of tomorrow.

She had the power to create planets. The sixty carved bones
of the Yris-tera foretold her ancient fate. Her heritage of power took her
beyond time and space and stole from her the one man she loved.

Enslaved on the planet Silistra tomorrow’s most beautiful
courtesan unleashes the powers of the gods.

 

What readers
are saying:

 

“Pure
excellence
. A heroic quest of the highest calibre.” – Goodreads

 

“This is a book which makes one’s blood sing and one’s
mind ponder. I loved the first in the series and enjoyed this as much, perhaps
more. The ending leaves the reader desperate to know what happens to Estri next
– courtesan, slave, warrior, lover, rebel. What is next for our heroine?” –
Goodreads

 

“Call it what you like: science fiction, space opera,
sword and planet or erotic fantasy . . . The Golden Sword is all these things,
and so much more. A highly intelligent and sensual novel filled with ideas and
revelations, this is a gripping story that explores human sexuality and the
role it plays in politics. Although the memorable characters are bisexual, toss
away all your preconceived notions, for there is a humanity, a strength of will
and determination, a realism and depth of emotion to these characters that will
have you thinking twice about all you know and all you think you know. This is
a book for mature and discerning readers who like some meat on the bones of the
books they read. Janet Morris led the way for all the science fiction authors,
both male and female, who came after. â€œ – Joe Bonadonna, Goodreads

 

Amazon * B&N
* Bookbub
* Goodreads

I wondered what it meant, to be a “ten,” as the crellkeep
chose a spot apparently like any other upon one chain and fastened me to it by means of heavy metal anklets
that were spaced along its
length.

“I put you next to Aje. You will sleep
through the nights,” he informed me, as if I should be grateful for some
thoughtful service. Seeing me safely bound, the two jiasks turned and left the
chamber.

“What
is your name?” the crellkeep asked.

I almost told him, but caught myself.
It took me a moment to remember the crell name Chayin had given me.

“Miheja,” I said finally.

“Meh-he-ya,” the crellkeep corrected
me gently. “The Eastmost Star’s Daughter. Suits you. So you have the dharener
entranced, do you? A ten, indeed. Crell life is no burden to one so highly
numbered.” He stood up, rubbing his back, “I go to get Aje. You will like him.
They all do,” he said and patted my naked shoulder. Moments later I was alone in the deserted
ever-dusk of the crellpits. A single torch burned at the chamber’s
entry, throwing life into the feature-
less rock walls.

I crawled
the length of my tether,
and by lying stretched out
could just get my fingers upon the central ring. I tested its strength,
as had countless crells before me. There was no weakness in it. I had expected none. I
then examined each link of my chains with my fingers, to see if perhaps
somewhere there was one unsoldered among them. There
was no error among the 387
links that bound me firmly to the central ring. Its twin was sunk where
the cold stone
floor met the wall behind me. Perhaps there was a
weakness in that area, but I had not enough tether to explore it. I lay down upon my
left side and curled my knees against my chest. I could not think. I merely lay
there.


High Couch of
Silistra

The Silistra Quartet Book 1

Biology shapes reality…

One woman’s mythic search for self-realization in a distant tomorrow…

Her sensuality was at the core of her world, her quest beyond the civilized
stars.

Aristocrat. Outcast. Picara. Slave. Ruler.

“Engrossing characters in a marvelous adventure.” – Charles N. Brown,
Locus Magazine

“The amazing and erotic adventures of the most beautiful courtesan in
tomorrow’s universe” – Frederik Pohl

“The best single example of prostitution used in fantasy is Janet Morris’
Silistra series… Estri’s character is most like that of Ishtar who describes
herself as “‘a prostitute compassionate am I'” because she
“symbolizes the creative submission to the demands of instinct, to the
chaos of nature …the free woman, as opposed to the domesticated woman”.
Linking Estri with these lunar and water symbols is not difficult because of
the moon’s eternal virginity (the strength of integrity) links with her changeability
(the prostitute’s switching of lovers). […]

Morris strengthens the moon imagery by having Estri as a
well-keepress because wells, fountains, and the moon as the orb which controls
water have long been associated with fertility, […] In a sense, she is like
the moon because she is apparently eternal, never waxing or waning except in
her pursuit of the quest; she is the prototypical wanderer like the moon and
Ishtar. She is the eternal night symbol of the moon in opposition to the
Day-Keepers […]

 At her majority (her
three hundredth birthday), she is given a silver-cubed hologram letter from her
mother, containing a videotape of her conception by the savage bronzed
barbarian god from another world. […] If Estri’s mother then acts as a bawd,
willing her lineage as Well-Keepress to her daughter, then Estri’s
great-grandmother Astria as foundress of the Well becomes a further mother-bawd
figure when she offers her prophetic advice in her letter: “Guard Astria
for you may lose it, and more. Beware of one who is not as he seems. Stray not
in the port city of Baniev …look well about you, for your father’s daughter’s
brother seeks you”. Having no brother that she knows of does not stay
Estri from undertaking the heroic quest of finding her father.”

 – Anne K. Kaler, The
Picara: From Hera to Fantasy Heroine

 

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I
am Estri Hadrath diet Estrazi, former Well-Keepress of Astria on the planet
Silistra. I have begun three times to tell this story, and three times I have
been interrupted. This, then, the fourth attempt, will surely prove successful.

Perhaps
you have heard of Silistra, the planet that was catalyst to the sexual
revolution in the year twenty-two thousand, seven hundred and four Bipedal
Federate Standard Time, or of the Silistran serums that lengthen life and
restore vitality in virtually any bipedal life form, or perhaps you have at
some time contracted the services of a Silistran telepath, or a precognitive,
or a deep reader. It is possible that you have in your own home the
scintillating, indestructible web-cloth woven by our domestic arachnids, or
have seen holograms of our golachits, those intelligent builder-beetles who
exude from their mouths a translucent, superhard substance called gol and
create from this gol, under the guidance of the chit-guards, the formidable and
resplendent structures in which we live and work.

And
perhaps you have seen no web-cloth, no gol, never been ill, and are not
interested in sex. If so, you may never have heard of Silistra.

I
carry Silistra in my mind’s eye, here under this alien sun. In my mind alone
can I look out the east window of my beloved exercise hall in Well Astria and
see the sun’s rising burst upon the jewel-like towers and keeps of the Inner
Well and a thousand rainbows arc and dance in the greening sky.


Best selling author Janet Morris began writing in 1976 and
published more than 30 novels, many co-authored with her husband Chris Morris
or others. She contributed short fiction to the shared universe fantasy series
Thieves World, in which she created the Sacred Band of Stepsons, a mythical
unit of ancient fighters modeled on the Sacred Band of Thebes. She created,
orchestrated, and edited the Bangsian fantasy series Heroes in Hell, writing
stories for the series as well as co-writing the related novel, The Little
Helliad, with Chris Morris. She wrote the bestselling Silistra Quartet in the
1970s, including High Couch of Silistra, The Golden Sword, Wind from the Abyss,
and The Carnelian Throne. This quartet had more than four million copies in
Bantam print alone, and was translated into German, French, Italian, Russian
and other languages. In the 1980s, Baen Books released a second edition of this
landmark series. The third edition is the Author’s Cut edition, newly revised
by the author for Perseid Press. Most of her fiction work has been in the
fantasy and science fiction genres, although she has also written historical
and other novels. Morris has written, contributed to, or edited several
book-length works of non-fiction, as well as papers and articles on nonlethal
weapons, developmental military technology and other defense and national
security topics.

Janet said: ‘People often ask what book to read first. I
recommend “I, the Sun” if you like ancient history; “The Sacred
Band,” a novel, if you like heroic fantasy; “Lawyers in Hell” if
you like historical fantasy set in hell; “Outpassage” if you like
hard science fiction; “High Couch of Silistra” if you like far-future
dystopian or philosophical novels. I am most enthusiastic about the definitive
Perseid Press Author’s Cut editions, which I revised and expanded.’

  

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SERIES TOUR & GIVEAWAY: The Serpent Series by S.Z. Estavillo

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Every crime tells a story


But not every killer is the villain.

The Serpent’s Order

The Serpent Series Book 4

by S.Z. Estavillo

Genre: Thriller, Romantic Suspense

An assassin bound by
obedience. A detective marked for death. A cartel war with no survivors.

Von Schlange thought she’d escaped her past. Now Black Nova owns her—an elite,
off-the-books task force where obedience is survival and failure means death.
As their newest assassin, she’s unleashed on targets tied to Jaxon Ryker, a
drug lord buried deep in the Alaskan wilds.

Her partner, Xander Holt, a former Navy SEAL with ice in his veins, lives by
the same brutal code: no attachments, no lines crossed. But as missions turn
bloody, the fragile boundary between partner and lover begins to blur—and desire
becomes its own kind of danger.

Across the country, Detective Anaya Nazario faces a nightmare of her own. A
synthetic “zombie drug,” deadlier than fentanyl and immune to Narcan, is
ripping through Los Angeles. Her investigation exposes a network of dirty cops
shielding Ryker’s empire—and puts a target squarely on her back.

Two women on opposite fronts. One war against corruption and cartel power. And
a single truth—every betrayal leaves a body behind.

Explosive, unrelenting, and razor-sharp, The Serpent’s Order propels the
Serpent Series into its most dangerous chapter yet—where justice is a myth, and
survival comes at a price paid in blood.

 

**NEW RELEASE on Feb 10, 2026! PreOrder Now!**

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Twilight of the
Serpent

The Serpent Series Book 3

Some predators hide
in plain sight. Others hunt from the shadows.

Merrick Winslow is a decorated Army officer, a man of discipline and honor—or
so he claims. When he reports that his ex-wife, Cheonsa Soo-Min, has been
stalking him, no one questions his story. He paints her as unstable, vengeful,
and dangerous, a woman consumed by obsession. But when two officers are gunned
down with her own weapon, the truth becomes harder to see. With the law closing
in, Cheonsa vanishes, fleeing to Rio de Janeiro, where she is taken in by Von
Schlange, the vigilante thought to have disappeared for good.

Von has retired her vengeful ways, leaving behind a life of bloodshed to run a
quiet veterinary clinic. But when Cheonsa’s past collides with Winslow’s lies,
the two women begin to unravel a deadly deception—one that turns predator into
prey. By the time Von uncovers the truth, an innocent life has already been
taken.

Now, there’s only one thing left to do: find the real monster and make him pay.

Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Detective Anaya Nazario and Supervising Special
Agent Blake Huxley are adjusting to life as new parents. But after only four
months of maternity leave, Nazario is pulled back into the field to investigate
the murder of two officers. What should be a straightforward case quickly
spirals into something far more sinister—secrets buried beneath the badge, a
killer hiding behind a uniform, and a web of corruption stretching further than
anyone expected.

As Nazario and Huxley chase down leads, their investigation intersects with a
vigilante they once thought was dead. And this time, Von Schlange isn’t just
seeking justice—she’s delivering retribution.

For fans of Karin Slaughter, Gillian Flynn, and Taylor Adams, Twilight of
the Serpent delivers a high-stakes vigilante thriller packed with morally gray
justice, relentless suspense, and a tangled web of deception. Perfect for
readers who love strong female leads, intense cat-and-mouse chases, and dark
psychological twists.

 

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The Serpent Woman

The Serpent Series Book 2

The exciting sequel to The Serpent’s Bridge…

A serial killer is on the loose. With her insidious tattoo and venomous killer
strike, they’re calling her the serpent woman.

Two of the best in their field, LAPD Detective Anaya Nazario and FBI
Supervising Special Agent Blake Huxley are forced to work together yet again,
despite their strained romantic history and a baby on the way. Together on a
nationwide hunt, they must find this serpent woman before she strikes again.

But, as the cat-and-mouse chase evolves, Nazario and Huxley begin to realize
that their killer is on a mission of vigilante justice and they must struggle
with the question of who really deserves their justice: The killer, or her
victims?

This dark thriller delves into the sensitive topics of sex trafficking,
child abuse, animal death, sexual assault, graphic violence, and dead bodies.
Reader discretion is advised.

 

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The Serpent’s Bridge

The Serpent Series Book 1 

Compelling
dialogue, rich, gritty prose, and characters you won’t forget — if you loved
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest by Stieg Larsson, or Ink and Bone by Lisa
Unger, you’ll love The Serpent’s Bridge.

Recovering alcoholic Detective Anaya Nazario remains haunted by her father’s
murder. Lucas Nazario was the highest-ranking Puerto Rican LAPD detective, and
his case has gone unsolved for twenty-four years since his murder. When Mexican
immigrants are targeted by a serial killer, Nazario senses a connection and
fights to keep the leadless case open. The homicide investigation centers on
Sanctuary Baptist, a church composed of immigrants led by Pastor Stan and his
wife. Nazario’s personal and professional worlds collide when she is compelled
to collaborate with her former lover, Special Agent Blake Huxley. As their
lives merge once more, the FBI and Detective Nazario stop at nothing to find a
killer.

Is this the same monster who killed her father and left him for dead under a
bridge?

Can she put a stop to the murders before more families lose loved ones?

 

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Get the Box set duo for Only $2.99 for a limited time!

Get it on Amazon!

As a BIPOC thriller author, she previously parted amicably
with her agent and, three months later, secured an eight-book deal with
Oliver-Heber Books—now boasting 24,000 downloads in its first year and a
BookRaid bestseller ranking in the thriller category. The Serpent Woman (Book
2) reached #1 on Amazon and topped all three of its categories. Her background
spans literary agencies and TV studios, where she contributed to greenlit
screenplays that became Lifetime movies. She holds a Master’s in Television,
Radio, and Film, has taught author branding workshops (L.A. Writer’s
Conference, North Texas RWA), and maintains a 100K+ social media following.

 

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BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: All the Shadows We Become by Dustin Blackwall

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When the shadows come alive, Ava and Caleb discover the only
safe place is in each other’s arms.

But the closer they get, the darker the
truth becomes.

All the Shadows We
Become

by Dustin Blackwall

Genre: YA Romantasy Thriller

Caleb Ward is trying to forget the night he almost died.
Ava Lin is trying to understand why he survived.

But Hollow Creek isn’t letting either of them move on.

What starts as a strange blackout spirals into a trail of
eerie clues, shifting shadows, and a connection between Ava and Caleb that
grows hotter and more undeniable with every new secret uncovered.

Something happened
that night.
Something dangerous.
And it’s waking up.

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The lights exploded into darkness so fast
it felt like the whole world had been switched off. One second, the fairgrounds
pulsed with noise; the next, a hush dropped over everything – thick, heavy,
wrong. Ava’s breath caught in her throat as the shadows around the tents
stretched, bending in directions that didn’t match the lanterns flickering
overhead.

“Caleb
”
She didn’t even finish his name. Her hand shot out on instinct, finding his
fingers in the dark. His grip closed around hers immediately – warm, tight,
desperate – anchoring her like a lifeline.

Static rolled through the air, not sound
but pressure, brushing across her skin like cold fingertips. The wind
picked up and carried the faint smell of scorched leaves and metal. Somewhere
behind them, a ride creaked slowly, even though nothing was moving it.

Caleb stepped close enough that she felt
the heat of his chest at her shoulder.
“I’m here,” he whispered, voice low and unsteady.
Something moved at the corner of her vision
– a ripple of shadow that stole her breath. But Caleb was already there,
guiding her back against him, solid and unwavering.
The world still trembled, but she didn’t. Not with his strength at her back. In
that moment, she felt it with aching clarity: as long as he held her, she could
face anything.

All around them, people shouted – fragmented
cries swallowed by the dark. A string of carnival lights fizzled overhead,
sputtering blue sparks that made the shadows jump like living ink.

Ava squeezed his hand harder.
“We have to move,” she said, though she wasn’t sure which direction was safe
anymore.

Caleb turned, pulling her with him, and in
that split-second flash of dying light, she saw his face – terrified,
determined, and somehow still looking at her like she was the one thing in this
chaos he trusted.

The ground trembled.

The shadows bent again.

And together, hand in hand, they ran toward
whatever waited in the dark.

 

Can you, for those who don’t know you already, tell something about yourself and how you became an author?

I come from very humble beginnings in a small town in British Columbia. I worked the usual jobs you find in places like that — the kind that teach you patience, grit, and a deep appreciation for people. Eventually I made my way to Vancouver, where I built a career in Architectural Drafting. It was steady work, and for a long time it felt like the right path.

But somewhere along the way, something stopped resonating. I realized I was getting older, and that the little voice that had always whispered “follow your passion” wasn’t going to quiet down on its own. So I made a choice — a hopeful, slightly terrifying, wonderfully exciting choice — to finally listen.

And that’s how I found my way back to storytelling.

Writing lets me share the worlds I’ve carried with me for years
 and invite readers into places where shadows glitch, secrets breathe beneath small towns, and ordinary people discover extraordinary courage. I’m grateful every day for anyone who chooses to walk into those stories with me.

What is something unique/quirky about you?

I’m a tad nerdy.

Where were you born/grew up at?

I grew up in a little town a few hours from Vancouver, B.C. — and when I say little, I mean little. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, and where the biggest claim to fame is being the crossroads of four major highways.

I didn’t stay long, though. Even as a kid, I felt this tug toward something bigger, something just beyond the tree line. It is beautiful, but the opportunities I was looking for weren’t there. So I carried those early memories with me — the quiet streets, the mountains close enough to touch, that sense of being on the edge of something unknown — and they found their way into my stories later.

Those small-town roots are still a part of me, and they shape the worlds I write. There’s something special about places where secrets linger just beneath the surface
 and shadows sometimes feel alive.

If you knew you’d die tomorrow, how would you spend your last day?

Laying the back of my truck on a clear night with a blanket watching the universe move across the sky.

Who is your hero and why?

One of my greatest inspirations has always been Carl Sagan. There was something extraordinary about the way he looked at the universe — not with cold detachment, but with wonder, curiosity, and a deep sense of humanity. His work opened doors in my mind, inviting me to think bigger, dream wider, and explore ideas I might never have considered otherwise.

I still miss his voice, his gentle wisdom, and the way he made the cosmos feel both vast and intimate. His influence hasn’t faded for me; it’s woven into the way I see the world and into the stories I try to tell. He reminded all of us that imagination and science, wonder and truth, can live side by side — and that there’s beauty in asking the next question.

What do you do to unwind and relax?

I love getting outside whenever I can. Camping, being out in the fresh air, just letting the world slow down a little — it does something good for the soul. And when I really want to let loose, I’ll take my dirt bike out and ride until I’m completely worn out. There’s something freeing about it, like shaking off all the stress at once and coming back to myself.

Describe yourself in 5 words or less!

So far out of the box I can’t even see it anymore

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

Honestly
 I’m not sure I ever had a single moment where it clicked. Writing has been a gradual transition for me — a quiet shift rather than a dramatic one. I’m still getting used to the idea, and maybe that’s okay.

What I do know is that somewhere along the way, the stories I carried inside me started asking for space. They wanted to be written, shaped, shared. And every time I sit down to put those worlds onto the page, I feel a little more like the person I’m becoming — someone who tells stories because they matter to me, and hopefully to readers too.

So whether I call myself a “writer” or not, I’m grateful to be on this path, learning as I go, and inviting others into the worlds I create.

Do you have a favorite movie?

My favorite movie? I think I’d have to choose 2010. There’s something about it that still feels awe-inspiring to me — that sense of scale, of mystery, of looking out into the universe and realizing how small and extraordinary we really are.

It’s epic in the quietest, most meaningful way, and every time I watch it I’m reminded why stories about the unknown resonate so deeply. They make us curious. They make us dream. They invite us to imagine what else might be out there
 and what might already be waiting for us.

Which of your novels can you imagine made into a movie?

LOL.  Not there yet. I’m still surprised I got published!

Light Years to
Midnight

by Dustin Blackwall

Genre: SciFi Thriller

When data itself begins to speak, who decides what it’s
trying to say?

Light Years To Midnight — a globe-spanning thriller where science, faith, and
code collide in a race against a countdown written into the fabric of reality.

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The wind whipped dust across the plateau as Jonas crested
the ridge, breath burning in his throat. Below him, the satellite dishes of the
abandoned relay station stretched into the dark like a field of frozen giants.
Their metal frames groaned under the rising storm, each bent toward the same
invisible point on the horizon.

He wasn’t alone.

A faint beam of light—too controlled to be an
accident—flickered between the dishes. Jonas crouched, heart thudding, watching
as a woman stepped into view, her silhouette sharp against the skeletal
machinery. She moved with the alertness of someone who had been running for far
too long.

Elena.

He had seen her face in files, in encrypted packets, in the
warnings that had chased him across continents. But seeing her here, in the
flesh, felt unreal—like walking into a photograph he wasn’t meant to
understand.

Before he could speak, a second figure emerged from the
opposite end of the array. Maya paused only when she spotted Elena, recognition
flaring across her face. They had never met, not really, but the anomaly had
braided their paths tightly enough that the moment felt inevitable.

Jonas stood and lifted a hand, but movement in the distance
froze him mid-step.

Engines.

Low, tactical, deliberate.

A convoy approached from the north, its headlights dark, its
tires crunching through gravel like muffled gunfire. Special
operations—unmarked, unhurried, confident. Not hunters, but collectors.

Elena’s eyes locked on his.
“Are they here for you,” she whispered, “or for all of us?”

Maya stepped closer, her breath sharp in the cold air. “Does
it matter?”

Something pulsed beneath the earth—three beats, a pause,
three more—vibrating up through the metal frames of the dishes. The sky above
them shimmered, faint but unmistakable, as if answering the rhythm.

Jonas swallowed hard.

“No,” he said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s already
found us.”

Dustin is a lifelong fan of science and speculative fiction,
blending his fascination with astronomy, technology, and the unknown into
stories that explore the edge between logic and wonder. When he’s not writing,
he’s reading, stargazing, or chasing trails on his dirt bike — always searching
for what lies just beyond understanding.

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

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One bookish
debutante. 

Two dashing suitors.

 And a season full of scandal.

 

Kindred Schemes

Schemes Book 1

by R. K. Harrington

Genre: Historical Regency Romance

 

 
 

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

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

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

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

 

What readers
are saying:

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

 

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

 

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

 

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London,
1809

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 
 
 

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

 

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BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: High Couch of Silistra by Janet Morris

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High Couch of Silistra, first of the notorious
Silistra Quartet, brings us to a realm where thought alters probability, where
creativity is inextricably linked to the urge to own and dominate, and where
the universe itself is amenable to a focused mind.

Rooted deeply in humanity’s mythic past yet unaware
of the planet Earth, High Couch of Silistra begins one woman’s mythic quest for
self-knowledge – with surprising results.

High Couch of
Silistra

The Silistra Quartet Book 1

by Janet Morris

Genre: Dystopian Epic SciFi Fantasy Romance

Biology shapes reality…

One woman’s mythic search for self-realization in a distant tomorrow…

Her sensuality was at the core of her world, her quest beyond the civilized
stars.

Aristocrat. Outcast. Picara. Slave. Ruler.

“Engrossing characters in a marvelous adventure.” – Charles N. Brown,
Locus Magazine

“The amazing and erotic adventures of the most beautiful courtesan in
tomorrow’s universe” 

– Frederik Pohl

“The best single example of prostitution used in fantasy is Janet Morris’
Silistra series… Estri’s character is most like that of Ishtar who describes
herself as “‘a prostitute compassionate am I'” because she
“symbolizes the creative submission to the demands of instinct, to the
chaos of nature …the free woman, as opposed to the domesticated woman”.
Linking Estri with these lunar and water symbols is not difficult because of
the moon’s eternal virginity (the strength of integrity) links with her changeability
(the prostitute’s switching of lovers). […]

Morris strengthens the moon imagery by having Estri as a
well-keepress because wells, fountains, and the moon as the orb which controls
water have long been associated with fertility, […] In a sense, she is like
the moon because she is apparently eternal, never waxing or waning except in
her pursuit of the quest; she is the prototypical wanderer like the moon and
Ishtar. She is the eternal night symbol of the moon in opposition to the
Day-Keepers […]

 At her majority (her
three hundredth birthday), she is given a silver-cubed hologram letter from her
mother, containing a videotape of her conception by the savage bronzed
barbarian god from another world. […] If Estri’s mother then acts as a bawd,
willing her lineage as Well-Keepress to her daughter, then Estri’s
great-grandmother Astria as foundress of the Well becomes a further mother-bawd
figure when she offers her prophetic advice in her letter: “Guard Astria
for you may lose it, and more. Beware of one who is not as he seems. Stray not
in the port city of Baniev …look well about you, for your father’s daughter’s
brother seeks you”. Having no brother that she knows of does not stay
Estri from undertaking the heroic quest of finding her father.”

 – Anne K. Kaler, The
Picara: From Hera to Fantasy Heroine

 

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I
am Estri Hadrath diet Estrazi, former Well-Keepress of Astria on the planet
Silistra. I have begun three times to tell this story, and three times I have
been interrupted. This, then, the fourth attempt, will surely prove successful.

Perhaps
you have heard of Silistra, the planet that was catalyst to the sexual
revolution in the year twenty-two thousand, seven hundred and four Bipedal
Federate Standard Time, or of the Silistran serums that lengthen life and
restore vitality in virtually any bipedal life form, or perhaps you have at
some time contracted the services of a Silistran telepath, or a precognitive,
or a deep reader. It is possible that you have in your own home the
scintillating, indestructible web-cloth woven by our domestic arachnids, or
have seen holograms of our golachits, those intelligent builder-beetles who
exude from their mouths a translucent, superhard substance called gol and
create from this gol, under the guidance of the chit-guards, the formidable and
resplendent structures in which we live and work.

And
perhaps you have seen no web-cloth, no gol, never been ill, and are not
interested in sex. If so, you may never have heard of Silistra.

I
carry Silistra in my mind’s eye, here under this alien sun. In my mind alone
can I look out the east window of my beloved exercise hall in Well Astria and
see the sun’s rising burst upon the jewel-like towers and keeps of the Inner
Well and a thousand rainbows arc and dance in the greening sky.


Best selling author Janet Morris began writing in
1976 and published more than 30 novels, many co-authored with her husband Chris
Morris or others. She contributed short fiction to the shared universe fantasy
series Thieves World, in which she created the Sacred Band of Stepsons, a
mythical unit of ancient fighters modeled on the Sacred Band of Thebes. She
created, orchestrated, and edited the Bangsian fantasy series Heroes in Hell,
writing stories for the series as well as co-writing the related novel, The
Little Helliad, with Chris Morris. She wrote the bestselling Silistra Quartet
in the 1970s, including High Couch of Silistra, The Golden Sword, Wind from the
Abyss, and The Carnelian Throne. This quartet had more than four million copies
in Bantam print alone, and was translated into German, French, Italian, Russian
and other languages. In the 1980s, Baen Books released a second edition of this
landmark series. The third edition is the Author’s Cut edition, newly revised
by the author for Perseid Press. Most of her fiction work has been in the
fantasy and science fiction genres, although she has also written historical
and other novels. Morris has written, contributed to, or edited several
book-length works of non-fiction, as well as papers and articles on nonlethal
weapons, developmental military technology and other defense and national
security topics.

Janet said: ‘People often ask what book to read
first. I recommend “I, the Sun” if you like ancient history;
“The Sacred Band,” a novel, if you like heroic fantasy; “Lawyers
in Hell” if you like historical fantasy set in hell;
“Outpassage” if you like hard science fiction; “High Couch of
Silistra” if you like far-future dystopian or philosophical novels. I am
most enthusiastic about the definitive Perseid Press Author’s Cut editions,
which I revised and expanded.’

  

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and a giveaway!

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BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Tea for Two by Bianca White

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An Austen-inspired Short Story Duet

Enjoy two tea
parties, two romances and two characters from one of the world’s most beloved
authors.

 

Tea for Two:

An Austen-Inspired
Short Story Duet

by Bianca White

Genre: Historical Romance

 

 
 

Jane Austen and tea.
What more could one ask for?

Enjoy two tea parties, two romances and
two characters from one of the world’s most beloved authors.

In this historical romance short story duet gossip-loving Mrs Jennings meddles
in affairs of the heart, and scandalous Henry Crawford turns heads once again!

Be swept away by the amusements of the Regency tea party in
these Austen-inspired short stories. Delight in the sweet romance, dancing,
gossip and, of course, tea.

“But indeed I would rather have nothing but tea.”
― Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

 

Tea
for Two comprises two short stories:

 

Jilted

Lord Asher Mandeville is heartbroken when his childhood
love, Miss Tabitha Rowe, jilts him only weeks before their wedding.

Asher refuses to accept Tabitha’s rejection and chases after
his betrothed to demand an explanation.

Tabitha is determined to escape him, but Asher’s shattered
heart will accept nothing other than her return.

 

Wooing
Miss Woodforde

Jasper Trevethan loves Miss Sophie Woodforde, but he is a
penniless rake. Sophie would never marry him, even if he were rich.

As an impoverished companion, Sophie serves the whims of
others while pining for her employer’s scandalous nephew.

When an unexpected inheritance transforms Sophie’s life, she
becomes the target of fortune hunters.

Before another scoundrel steals his love, Jasper must prove
his devotion and woo Miss Woodforde. But Sophie would rather become an old maid
than marry a man who only wants her for her money, especially Mr Trevethan.

 

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Excerpt from Wooing Miss Woodforde

 

He headed to the drawing room.

While Sophie continued to hold his heart,
he could not bring himself to marry another. Yes, he had wasted his days living
off his brother while indulging in a life of idleness and pleasure-seeking. Now
he had no option but to pray his aunt left him her fortune. Perhaps then he
could offer for Sophie. She will never
marry a rake, you fool. As usual, he tamped down the bitter truth, but the
tiny flicker of hope that one day she may be his was the only thing that
prevented him from sinking further.

His aunt dropped onto the sofa before the
crackling hearth. “It does not help your cause that you continue to associate
with that scoundrel, Mr Crawford.”

Sophie carried out her duties in efficient
silence, pretending not to hear the details of his scandalous associations. How
he longed to take her away from this life of servitude. Someone so good, kind
and selfless deserved better.

After pouring the tea, she handed her
employer a cup.

Without a word of thanks to her companion,
his aunt continued, “There is still talk about his scandalous affair with Mrs
Rushworth. You should end the connection, for it will only sully your name
further. Your reputation as a rake does not help matters, but being associated
with an adulterer will not earn you a respectable bride. What must my dear
sister think of her favourite now?”

He accepted his cup from Sophie with his
head down and muttered his thanks. Shame gnawed at his insides. If his mother
had not died of typhus before he reached his tenth year, she would have been
sorely disappointed in him.

Why could he not be a better man? He should
have sought a profession after university. If he had done something useful,
perhaps, he may have earned Sophie’s good opinion and won her heart. Instead,
he had wasted his life. He was a hopeless rake beyond salvage, in love with a
woman far above him in noble character. Even if he were rich, she would always
be too good for him.

Sophie sat on the sofa next to his aunt and
twiddled with a delicate curl at her nape.

He had to ask again. “Are you certain you
are well, Miss Woodforde?”

“Stop trying to misdirect the attention
from yourself, Trevethan.” Aunt Hammond sipped at her tea.

Wispy tendrils of steam rose from the beige
liquid in his cup, and he tamped down the urge to ask for something stronger.
Liquor would have to wait. Even though nothing eased the painful longing within
him lately.

He could not resist being drawn to the
source of his yearning while she stared at the flickering flames in the hearth.
What had happened to the woman who enjoyed lecturing him about the latest
philanthropic project she wished to support or teased him following the gossip
surrounding his misadventures? Not that he had many these days unless one
counted spending the evenings drinking brandy with Crawford while they both
pined for the women they loved but could not possess.

“Trevethan!” he jerked his head towards his
aunt. Her narrowed gaze bore into him. Had he given himself away?

She glowered, then said, “Miss Woodforde
has received some surprising news today that has unsettled her.”

Sophie’s head shot up; her wide gaze
directed towards her employer.

“I hope it is nothing serious?” My God, she
was ill. “Is there anything I can
do?”

Aunt Hammond scoffed. “It is not unwelcome
news—well, not for Miss Woodforde.”

“Mrs Hammond.” Sophie pleaded, but as
usual, his aunt could not be silenced.

“Miss Woodforde is now an heiress with
twenty thousand.”

His breath stuttered.

On the opposite sofa, Sophie’s head lolled
forward, and she ran a palm across her forehead.

Sophie was a wealthy woman—a single,
wealthy woman. That meant she no longer needed to work for his aunt. He would
not see her when he visited.

Aunt Hammond asked, “Will you not offer
your congratulations?”

He glanced at his aunt before returning his
attention to Sophie, whose shoulders slumped.

A burning sensation spread down his gullet,
and he swallowed. “Congratulations, Miss Woodforde.”

His aunt sniffed. “She is almost maudlin;
anyone would think a beloved family member had died.”

Sophie continued to stare into the teacup
in her lap. She would leave, and he would never see her again.

Aunt Hammond prattled on. “Heaven knows
why, but she wishes to keep it a secret. She should marry, yet she insists she
will remain in my employment.”

Of course, her sense of duty would not
allow her to abandon his aunt. Selfish thoughts about her leaving had
distracted him from the more pressing issue. Another man would steal her from
him. His heart skipped a beat. He could not allow it.

 

 
 
 
 

Bianca
White writes passionate and spicy historical romance.

Bianca
loves history and has a degree in history and history of art. The word
“research” is often used as an excuse to drag members of her family
around every stately home and castle wherever they go. Nothing, not even
the grumbling of said family, will keep her away from a historical fashion
exhibition.

When she’s
not writing, Bianca feeds her addiction to romance novels. She also loves
baking and watching movies. Thanks to her love of baking (and eating), she
feels the need to balance it with a little activity and enjoys tai chi,
aerobics and swimming.

Bianca
lives in West Yorkshire, England, with her husband and two children.

To receive
all the latest news from Bianca White, and a bit of history in your inbox, sign
up for her mailing list at Bianca White Writes.

 

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BOOK TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Undisciplined Catalyst by Gail Koger

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I was sixteen when I found out not only am I an alien
hybrid, 

but monsters called the Tai-Kok were getting ready to invade our world. 

Guess who gets to stop them? Me.

Undisciplined
Catalyst

Coletti Warlord Series Book 19

by Gail Koger

Genre: SciFi Paranormal Romance

I was sixteen when I found out not only am I an alien
hybrid, but monsters called the Tai-Kok were getting ready to invade our world.
Guess who gets to stop them? Me. How?

My uncle, the mad scientist, created a machine called the portal that
instantaneously sends a test subject from one location to another by converting
them into energy. His idea is to port me onto a Tai-Kok ship. All I have to do
is leave a bomb, hit the retrieval button on my spiffy traveler’s belt and
poof! I’m back on Earth before the Tai-Kok ship goes kaboom. Sounds simple,
right?

Wrong. Uncle Ben doesn’t have a clue where I’ll actually appear on the ship. It
could be the engine room, the crew quarters, or even the bridge. It’s like
playing Russian roulette. The Tai-Kok don’t like surprises or uninvited guests.

To make things even more fun, I have an alien battle commander stuck in my head
and I’m related to a powerful Coletti warlord. Yippee. The chances of me living
to see eighteen aren’t good.

 

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“Give ‘em hell.” A wild look in his eyes, Uncle Ben tapped
on the portal’s control console.
The circles of light surrounded me, but this time it felt like a zillion fire
ants were crawling over my body. Holy hell! Something had gone wrong! I
appeared in midair and dropped like a rock. Smack! I slammed into someone, and
my Glock went flying.
My eyes bugged. I was on the bridge of a futuristic warship, and the viewscreen
showed one hell of a space battle that was going on. To make things even more
fun, I was lying across the lap of a huge, muscle-bound male wearing black
battle armor. Since he was sitting in the captain’s chair, I was assuming he
was the boss.
A very angry-looking boss. I blinked. Holy cow was he good looking, if you were
into the whole merciless predator thing. Huh? The red chains woven into his
black warrior’s braids matched the communication device on his left wrist. Who
knew aliens accessorized and why did I care? I took a deep breath trying to
control the panic streaking through me.
A low growl rumbled in his chest
One look into his disturbingly hostile amber eyes and I knew I was in big
trouble. I reached for my retrieval button.
His arms clamped around me painfully and he spat a bunch of gobbledygook.
“Sorry, I don’t speak that language,” I replied mentally. Somehow, I knew he
was psychic.
A harsh voice sounded in my head, “How did you get through our shields.”
“Dunno. My uncle is the scientific genius, not me. I’m just the delivery girl.”
“What do you deliver?”
Did I look stupid? The minute I told him bombs; he’d kill me. I pasted a
friendly smile on my face. “Stuff. I’m Lexi and you are?”
“Battle Commander Kaelen. I serve Zarek the Coletti Overlord.”
I had no clue who Zarek was, nor did I want to meet him. “You must be so
proud.”
“Do you have a death wish, female?”
I grimaced. “Some people would think so.”

Howdy. My name is Gail Koger and once upon a time I was a
9-1-1 dispatcher. Too many years of wild requests, screwy questions, bizarre
behavior and outrageous demands have left me with a permanent twitch and an
uncontrollable craving for chocolate. I took up writing science fiction romance
to keep from killing people. So far, it has worked.

 

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and a $20 giveaway!

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TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Fur, Fangs & Mistletoe by Jessica Coulter Smith

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When a struggling single mom and her adorable toddler get
snowed in with a grumpy wolf shifter, Christmas magic starts working overtime.

 

Fur, Fangs, &
Mistletoe

Christmas Cove Book 1

by Jessica Coulter Smith

Genre: Paranormal Holiday Romance

 

 

Escape to Christmas Cove, a cozy small town where magic,
shifters, and holiday romance collide.

After a painful breakup, Riley is ready for a fresh start in
Christmas Cove. All she wants is a peaceful life for herself and her
two-year-old daughter, Sabrina. Love isn’t on her holiday wish list. When she’s
stuck in a blizzard, help arrives in the form of Alex Conors — a protective,
brooding werewolf.

Snowed in with a grumpy shifter and a crackling fire, Riley
begins to see the gentle heart behind Alex’s fierce exterior
 and Alex finds
himself falling for the brave single mom who awakens something he thought he
lost long ago.

Hot cocoa and toddler giggles turn strangers into something
more. But when Riley’s past resurfaces and threatens the safety she’s found,
Alex will have to prove that loyalty, love — and pack — are forever.

A warm, emotional holiday romance filled with shifter
charm, second chances, and the magic of Christmas. Ideal for fans of protective
alphas, found family, and heartfelt happily-ever-afters.

 

🏠 Small-town charm &
found family
đŸș
Grumpy wolf + sunshine single mom
đŸ‘©â€đŸ‘§
Adorable toddler moments
🎁
Snowed-in & forced proximity
💕
Fated mates and holiday magic

 

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The sedan’s engine rattled — a sound Riley had learned to
distinguish from its other mechanical complaints over the past three states.
This particular rattle meant she’d make it another fifty miles, maybe more if
she kept her speed steady. Her knuckles had gone white on the steering wheel
somewhere around the state line, and she couldn’t remember now how to relax
them. The GPS showed their arrival in Christmas Cove, and Riley’s shoulders
tensed further, an automatic response to any declaration of reaching a
destination.

Dusk had settled over the town. Main Street stretched before
her, lined with Victorian storefronts that belonged in a Thomas Kincade
painting. White lights twisted around lampposts, and wreaths hung at precise
intervals, each decorated with the same combination of pine cones and red
ribbon. Fresh snow dusted the sidewalks in a way that seemed too perfect, too
deliberate. Riley checked her rearview mirror again — the same compulsive
glance she’d made every thirty seconds for the past six hours. Empty road. No
one following. No one cared where she went.

She drove slowly past the Sugar Moon Café, noting its warm
glow and the silhouettes of people inside. Past a bookstore with a display of
holiday romances in the window. Past a hardware store already closed for the
evening, its owner probably home with family, sitting down to dinner, living a
normal life. The thought made something twist in Riley’s chest, but she pushed it
down. Normal was a luxury she couldn’t afford to want.

The residential streets branched off from downtown. Riley
followed the GPS directions, checking the crumpled paper in her cup holder
against the street signs and the directions from the GPS. One too many times,
it had taken her the wrong way. Oak Street. Maple Avenue. Someone had named
these roads with an almost nauseating wholesomeness, as if determined to prove
the town’s charm. She turned onto Pine Ridge Road, where the houses grew
sparser and the forest pressed closer to the road.

A small sound from the backseat made Riley’s gaze dart to
the mirror. Sabrina stirred in her car seat, her head rolling to the side as
she woke from the nap that had mercifully consumed the last hour of driving.
Riley watched her daughter’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness and
the strange lights outside.

“Mama?” Sabrina’s voice carried that quality of toddler
confusion. Not quite upset, but teetering on the edge of it.

“We’re here, sweetie.” Riley forced warmth into her voice,
though her jaw ached from clenching. “Look at all the pretty lights.”

Sabrina pressed her mittened hands against the window,
leaving tiny smudges on the glass. “Lights!” She bounced in her seat as much as
the straps would allow. “Pretty, Mama! Pretty!”

“Very pretty.” Riley’s smile felt tight on her face. She
wanted to share her daughter’s uncomplicated joy, but she kept scanning the
streets, cataloging escape routes, noting which houses had lights on and which
sat dark. Old habits. Necessary habits.

The GPS announced their final turn, and Riley’s breath
caught. The cottage stood at the end of a short gravel drive, a small structure
someone’s grandfather had most likely built and barely maintained enough to
keep standing. A single porch light illuminated the front door, and beyond it,
the forest loomed.

Riley pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. The
sudden silence felt heavy, broken only by Sabrina’s humming as she kicked her
feet against her car seat. Riley sat motionless, her hands still gripping the
wheel, and studied their new home.

The cottage was smaller than the photos had suggested.
Single-story, with a chimney that leaned slightly to the left. The windows were
dark, revealing nothing of the interior. Snow had drifted against the front
steps, undisturbed except for what looked like animal tracks, probably a deer
or raccoon. The porch railing needed paint, and one shutter hung at an angle.

But for now the house was theirs. For six months, at least, with
the first month paid in advance with money Riley had saved from extra shifts
and skipped meals. Six months to figure out what came next. After that, she’d
have to either renew the lease, or move on to another town.

“Out, Mama!” Sabrina had moved past patient and into
demanding. “Out now!”

“Just a minute, baby.”

Riley scanned the neighboring properties. The nearest house
sat quite a distance down the road, its windows dark. On the other side,
nothing but forest. The isolation should have comforted her. Fewer people meant
fewer questions, fewer chances of being found. But instead, it made her
hyperaware of how alone they were. No witnesses if something went wrong. No one
to hear them scream.

She shook her head, dislodging the thought. Nothing was
going to go wrong. This was a fresh start in a quiet town where nobody knew her
name or her history. Where Sabrina could grow up without her mother constantly
looking over her shoulder.

 

 

Jessica Coulter Smith is an acclaimed romance writer with a
passion for storytelling. Her works showcase the power of love and its ability
to transcend boundaries, capturing the hearts of audiences worldwide. With a
unique writing style and perspective, Jessica continues to inspire and
entertain readers from all walks of life.

Find her online


 

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* Goodreads

 

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and a $20 giveaway!

 
Enter the Fur, Fangs, & Mistletoe Giveaway Here
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