Tell Them Goodbye E. R. Sanchez (Third Death Series, #1) Publication date: December 17th 2025 Genres: Thriller, Young Adult
16-year-old Sino and his 17-year-old cousin, Martín, run away from their family’s ranch—El Petaco—after witnessing their cousin Adal murder their cousin Javier over Adal’s marijuana business.
Not wanting to be forced into Javier’s job, Sino and Martín plan to run, knowing that Adal will come after them and anyone they tell. Although running away will leave people confused, Sino and Martín agree that leaving will protect both them and their loved ones from Adal’s wrath.
The pair realize the journey ahead of them is going to be rough, so before leaving they hatch a plan that includes stealing two goats, making it to Arteaga, getting on as many buses as it takes, and paying a coyote to smuggle them across the U.S.-Mexico border.
Sino and Martín don’t know much about life in 1970s America due to their sheltered life on El Petaco, but they’ve heard of a potential better life waiting for them in America and assume it’s the only option for freedom. The harrowing path ahead of them has them constantly looking over their shoulders for Adal’s assassins, fighting off robbers who attempt to take what little possessions they have, and weaving their way through Mexico’s class prejudices, violence, and exploitation.
“Tell Them Goodbye” is an unflinching, gritty immigrant story based on true events. It’s more than just a tale about two cousins trying to get to the United States; it’s an offering to all immigrants who only make it as spirits and an offering for humanity’s unstoppable determination to risk everything to accomplish any goal or dream.
E. R. Sanchez is the author of Fried Potato Press’s first full-length novel, Tell Them Goodbye. He also has poems and stories published online and in print.
Fracture Basar Gorur (Shadow Sovereign Series, #1) Publication date: April 17th 2026 Genres: Adult, Techno Thriller
A murdered diplomat. A dying man’s cryptic message. A conspiracy that could shatter NATO.
When U.S. geopolitical strategist Roger ‘Simms’ Osbourne receives word that his colleague and friend Aslı Green has been killed, he inherits more than grief. He inherits her secret: evidence of a sophisticated Russian operation that sank a Ukrainian tanker and made it look like an accident.
Sent to London to sell a critical NATO surveillance system, Simms quickly discovers his official mission is compromised. A powerful British political faction, backed by shadowy money and royal connections, is determined to see him fail. The deeper he digs into Aslı’s murder, the more he realizes the two threats are connected.
Forced to abandon the rulebook, Simms assembles an unlikely alliance: his embattled team, a mysterious operative named Katya who knows too much, and assets on both sides of the law. Together, they uncover a sprawling network funneling Russian profits through international shell companies to fuel a political war against the West.
But Russian Admiral Sidorov isn’t waiting for the dust to settle. His devastating military demonstration exposes NATO’s vulnerabilities and humiliates the alliance on the world stage. And lurking beneath it all is an even darker secret: Chinese technology at the heart of Russia’s most advanced weapons.
Now Simms must wage war on three fronts: political, financial, and military. Because if he fails, his friend died for nothing. And the next strike won’t be disguised as an accident.
For fans of Tom Clancy, Mark Greaney, and Brad Thor.
Ankara. Surveillance van outside Mikhail’s apartment. Evening.
Jack adjusted the lens for the hundredth time. Jones was sorting sunflower seeds by some private system known only to God and possibly his therapist.
“Stilettos,” Jones said.
“We’re not doing this.”
“We’re absolutely doing this. We’ve been here four hours. I’ve counted the bricks on that building. There are 2,847. I’ve earned a conversation.”
“You counted wrong. There are 2,846.”
“You counted them too?”
“Shut up.” Jack refused to look at him. “What about stilettos?”
“Women wear them voluntarily. On purpose. They pay extra for the privilege of balancing on pencil erasers.”
“Groundbreaking analysis. Call the sociology department.”
“I’m serious. Men’s fashion evolution went: uncomfortable, less uncomfortable, sweatpants. Enlightenment achieved. Women’s fashion went: uncomfortable, more uncomfortable, here’s a torture device from the Spanish Inquisition, but we made it beige.”
Jack checked the window. Nothing.
“Maybe they like being tall.”
“Platform sneakers exist. Wedges exist. Sensible block heels exist. Those chunky things that look like orthopedic equipment for fashionable astronauts.” Jones cracked a seed with surgical precision. “The stiletto isn’t about height. It’s about violence.”
“Violence.”
“Think about it. Historically, women couldn’t carry weapons. Swords, daggers, frowned upon. Very unlady-like. But shoes?” Jones gestured broadly, scattering shells. “Nobody regulates footwear. So some genius says, what if we put a three-inch steel spike on a pump and call it couture?”
“That’s actually not terrible.”
“I’m occasionally not terrible. Mark the calendar.”
The radio crackled. Static. The universe’s way of saying nothing was happening, and nothing would happen.
“You know they were daggers first,” Jones said. “Fifteenth century. Little needle-point shivs for punching through armor gaps.”
Jack checked the monitor. Still dark. “We are not talking about fashion history.”
“It’s tactical history. ‘Stiletto’ comes from stilus. The little metal spike Romans used for writing.” Jones pointed a shell at Jack. “It literally means ‘angry pen.’ The shoe is just a knife you can walk in.”
“You made that up.”
“Look it up. CIA even tried to weaponize them in the fifties. Program called Stiletto Rose. Pop-out blades in the heel.”
“Bullshit.”
“Swear to God. Total failure. Mechanics didn’t work. But someone tried.” Jones grinned. “Boredom is the mother of weapons development.”
Jack massaged his temples.
“Your ex-wife had stilettos, didn’t she?”
“Louboutins. Red soles. Cost more than my first car.” Jones found a seed worthy of consumption. “She never wore them. Kept them in the box. I asked why. She said they weren’t for wearing, they were for knowing she could wear them.”
“That explains the divorce.”
“Many things explain the divorce. Most of them are my fault. Some of them footwear-adjacent.”
The window remained dark. Jack was developing a personal vendetta against it.
The radio crackled.
“All teams, target vehicle approaching.”
Jack grabbed the camera. Jones swept the sunflower seeds aside.
“Finally,” Jones said. “I had a whole bit about platform shoes being siege equipment.”
“Save it.”
“Battering rams for the fashion-forward.”
“I will leave you here.”
Author Bio:
Başar Görür;
Writes geopolitical techno-thrillers grounded in institutions, leverage, and the real mechanics behind modern power. He has a BA degree in International Relations.
During his military service, he served on the personal staff of the Commander of the War Academies, working directly for a four-star air force general as an aide and translator. That experience informs how he writes briefings, decision cycles, and pressure under uncertainty.
He later held senior executive roles at PwC and at 3M Corporation headquarters, operating in multinational environments where cross-border incentives and capital flows shape outcomes. He now leads a private asset-management business.
Outside of work, he is a licensed captain and avid scuba diver who spends several months each year at sea and has traveled extensively. These experiences shape the Shadow Sovereign series.
Nocturne Tricia D. Wagner Publication date: April 14th 2026 Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
In NOCTURNE, sixteen-year-old Livi learns the truth of who she is—a Siren, her people known only to legends. She must learn to master her powers of influence, strength, and destruction to stop a warmongering Admiral from drafting her best friends, capturing and killing her people, and decimating her homeland of Nocturne.
Livi stood before the tavern’s bleak threshold, its heavy door cobbled of wrecked ships.
She peered through its ragged window, quieting the wiser part of her, an inner voice calling for her to turn back. And truly, she was stunned that she’d mustered the daring to try this.
There were dozens of men here—sailors all brooding over their flagons, many looking to be harboring grudges.
The tavern’s splintery walls were studded with trophies—toothy payaras, dry in their death throes, tacked beneath golden portraits of infamous Korps Mariner ships and their dread captains.
The men frequenting this sand-dusted, fish-pongy tavern—The Orphic, were the sun-beaten sailors and damaged soldiers of Merritaine, mercenaries and relieved fighters who’d reached the shore of old age still breathing.
No one dared step a toe in The Orphic unless he bore epic tales—bloody acts of acclaim on the baleful blue seas.
Many here had killed. Some for honorable causes in noble wars, yes. But they’d killed.
For all their savagery, though, they were brave.
Livi had heard enough stories to understand them as uniformly dauntless and skilled. If anyone could help her skip Merritaine’s coast and reach Nocturne, he’d be drinking here.
Through the brume of pipe smoke, she measured each face for hints of affability. Or at least for traces of good humor—signs that someone might consider her offer. If she could just single out one sailor more approachable than not, perhaps she could move to him unnoticed.
But that wouldn’t happen. Women scarcely set foot here, and sixteen-year-old girls certainly didn’t.
A few of the sailors came across as jovial—but even they harbored an undercurrent of trouble in their looks, their ease striking like a gusty southerly bathing the seaside, forecasting a typhoon’s assault.
The afternoon seemed all at once to grow late, a shaft of misted sunlight sluicing through the windows and casting the place in watery relief.
In fixing on that panorama of ocean, Livi could almost see Nocturne’s peaks in the deep west, its moonstone shores marbled with the shadowy ash given by its volcanic chain.
Those heights, she had to reach. For it was said that Nocturne’s high places were hived with sea caves—chambers shining with waters rumored to have healing properties.
Some believed those springs could stave off even death.
Livi eased from her jacket a small jar of pearls, each perfect, as plump as a blueberry—these a mere sampling of the trove she’d collected. They ought to be more than enough to buy passage to Nocturne from someone here bearing the skill, and the gall, and the ship, and the time to set sail for the Isles, along with some assurance that he could ferry her through storms, over waters where lurked sharks and killer whales and squids that tore up boats, and finally beyond the dread Maelstroms.
Livi had imagined this moment many times—making her bold approach in The Orphic, striking a deal. She’d imagined that arriving at this brink would feel like the onset of her escape.
But in finally standing here, readying to approach men alleged to be the most barbarous in Merritaine, the idea seemed beyond reckless.
Célian, her best friend—maybe more—would be sick at the thought of her here. And truly, in darkening this threshold, she felt she was skimming the rim of the Maelstroms, those great whirlpools unceasing in their churning, twisting what strayed near straight down in a tempest, claiming ships and seafarers alike as a part of themselves.
The bright Merrow Ocean glinting in, though, delivered some steadfastness. For at the sight of its rolling, Livi could gather a sense of what it might feel like, teaming with someone here, cruising on his scabrous ship to the treacherous west.
A man seated at the tavern’s back corner stood out a touch.
He looked a decade younger than the rest, and he had all his limbs, which was saying something. He seemed not resentful, or affable, or angry—just somber. His solemnity made it clear that he wanted to be left to himself.
But it also lent an impression of patience. Maybe he’d listen.
She edged open the tavern’s door and crept in. She eased behind a column in the entryway and held still.
She’d have to get to the somber man quick. If she drew too much attention, the barkeep—a tall man, his eyes sharp to check all the action, his manner busy and swift with his bottles—would cast her out before she could lay down one word of her offer.
Or worse—he’d let the men handle the disruption.
Livi stepped from the shade, into the amber light of the tavern.
Author Bio:
As a young reader, writers were like gods and goddesses to now author Tricia D. Wagner. She never could have imagined weaving tales like her favorite storytellers, until a fateful April dinner conversation with her husband about a lecture he attended got her mind whirling. By the end of that summer, she’d written 400,000 words: a speculative fiction trilogy. Wagner felt as if she’d emerged from a cocoon as some new sort of creature. She was hooked.
It was important to Tricia to sharpen her skills, and she immersed herself in workshops, guides, and writing communities, learning from editors how to hone her craft. She did this for years, and the result is her newly released novella The Strider and the Regulus, two independently published novelettes, four soon-to-be published novellas, and five as yet unpublished novels. She found writing to be a method for becoming the person she felt she was born to be. Wagner finds that writing inspires her to be a better person, truer to herself.
The ideas and substance of Tricia’s writing comes from a very deep place that is strongly stimulated by setting. Often, when she has completed a story, she feels as if she’s been to her story world, whether it’s on the map or not. She likes to believe all the places she writes about exist somewhere, somehow.
In writing her stories, Wagner was surprised and delighted to discover how real the characters become to an author; that for many writers, their characters end up as their most treasured friends. She loves to delve into them to mine their natures, secrets, and desires—to tell their stories with the legitimacy they deserve. In studying her characters, she finds she has the opportunity to shape herself, inching closer to the person she wants to become.
Wagner believes revision is magical in its power to make a good book great, and early drafts are only the beginning of a story’s journey. Any idea can wind up a good story, but with reflection and time and improvement, it can become art. Once Wagner completes a revision project, it feels miraculous how many fresh approaches have manifested and how much truer the story feels.
Wagner hopes her readers feel enchanted when they read her stories; that after completing one, it seems they’re drifting out from under a spell. This is exactly how she feels when she finishes writing a story. She hopes to that her writing might expand their minds, spirits, and worlds a bit, and she hope they fall in love with her characters and are moved by her artistry of language.
When she isn’t writing poignant works of literary fiction, Wagner is a Director of Adult Education – ESL Programs at a community college, a job and staff that she loves. In her spare time she enjoys refining her writing craft to discover new angles and landscapes that might enrich her writing palette. One such example is a recent course she took in learning to read ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, something that’s sure to end up in a story at some point. Wagner lives in Rockford, Illinois, with her husband and three darling cats.
Trial by Town Sharon Fernicola Publication date: March 31st 2026 Genres: Adult, Mystery
A gripping small town murder mystery
In the quiet coastal town of Keansbury, reputation is everything.
When eighteen-year-old Peter Keans—the heir to the town’s most powerful family—is found murdered, shock quickly turns to certainty. A young woman is arrested, and for all residents the case appears simple.
Justice, they believe, will be swift.
Attorney Katie Russo isn’t so sure.
Invited to review what seems like an open-and-shut prosecution, Katie begins to notice small inconsistencies buried beneath the surface of the investigation. As she looks deeper, she discovers a community bound by loyalty, economic dependence, and an unspoken understanding that some truths are better left alone.
With the trial approaching and tensions mounting, long-held assumptions begin to fracture. In a place where reputation defines identity and silence protects power, the search for truth threatens far more than a single verdict.
TRIAL BY TOWN is a character-driven small town murder mystery about justice, moral ambiguity, and the quiet pressure of a town determined to protect its own.
Perfect for readers who enjoy small town suspense, courtroom drama, and mysteries where the truth hides behind reputation and power.
For fans of Defending Jacob and Anatomy of a Scandal comes a gripping small town murder mystery where reputation, power, and truth collide.
“Mr. VanAnt, as you may know, the Professor asked me to speak with Miss O’Neill. I did so only to be of help.” She made certain her tone continued calm and reassuring, not wanting to give the misimpression that she was speaking as a defense attorney. “Miss O’Neill is unwavering in her claim of innocence.”
He was quick to respond, the red deepening in color. “I’m not surprised by anything she says. She’s always been a strange girl. Her uncle was strange. I guess it was just in the genes. However, that’s not an excuse. Mrs. Russo, as far as myself and this community are concerned, she killed him. Whether by accident or intentional, she killed him. The sooner she’s removed from here, the better. We have enough to deal with without her presence being a constant painful reminder.”
He tried to take another sip of coffee, but his shaking hand made him unsteady. A small amount poured onto the table. Katie grabbed a few napkins to blot up the puddle. She worried that she may have pushed him too far, but as concerned as she felt for him, she was compelled to continue the discussion.
“I can only imagine the pressure you’ve been under. The Professor mentioned that Mr. Keans Sr. has had virtually no involvement with the business since his son’s death.”
He paused a moment, then looked directly at Katie. “One does what one needs to do to survive. I have a responsibility to our customers, our workers, our community, and our families. A lot of people have been affected by this tragedy, and I’ll do everything and anything it takes to see that this business continues.”
Katie felt a chill up her spine. His words almost sounded like a threat. Perhaps he wasn’t quite the gentle giant she had thought. It was clear that the conversation had gone as far as it was going to go. “I’m certain you have everyone’s support and appreciation.”
Katie glanced at her watch and noted the lateness of the hour. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.” She rose and extended her hand. “This was an unexpected pleasure meeting you, and I very much enjoyed the tour.”
“Likewise.” He held the chair for her, the way a gentleman did in an old black-and-white film, and then escorted her to the elevator. “I hope you don’t mind if I say goodbye here. I have a few hours of paperwork ahead of me and I’d better get started.”
“Not at all. Again, thank you.”
He stood there looking at her until the doors closed. The chill she got earlier seemed to return. She tried to explain away her discomfort. After all, he had a right to feel such anger, and it wasn’t directed toward her. More chills as she walked briskly to the car, only this time, they were caused by the late afternoon breeze off the water. She slid into the seat and turned on the engine and the heater and waited until she was sufficiently warmed. As she drove out the gate, she thought about his words. Other than Jennifer, everyone she’d spoken to since arriving were aligned in their sentiment, although none expressed it so succinctly as Mr. VanAnt. “The sooner she’s removed from here, the better.” Katie rounded the bend, happy to be heading toward the comfort of the Professor’s home.
As he lost sight of her car, VanAnt drew the blinds and returned to his paperwork.
Author Bio:
Sharon Fernicola is a writer drawn to layered mysteries, emotional realism, and characters who challenge assumptions. Her fascination with crime and justice began early, watching Perry Mason with her father and falling in love with the genre’s blend of intellect and drama. Her debut novel, Trial by Town, explores the fragile line between perception and truth in a small town desperate to preserve its legacy.
In her 70s, Sharon completed three triathlons, obtained dual Italian–American citizenship, and wrote her first book—living proof that bold dreams don’t come with an expiration date. She brings a poetic sensibility to her storytelling, blending suspense with empathy and nuance. When she’s not writing, she’s mapping out her next adventure or putting in time at the gym, always chasing the next challenge with curiosity and grit.
Abducted J.S. Ash (The Beast’s Burden Chronicles, #1) Publication date: February 22nd 2026 Genres: New Adult, Science Fiction, Young Adult
Trapped aboard a living spacecraft hidden above her hometown, a teenage outcast must wage a one-girl war against ruthless alien mercenaries to save her best friend before the ship jumps into deep space.
A SHIP FULL OF ALIENS TOOK HER BEST FRIEND. THEY SHOULD’VE LEFT HER ON EARTH.
Abigail Ashby was raised to be a weapon by a dad convinced the world was on the brink of collapse. Then, inexplicably, he forced her into early retirement—aka high school.
These days, Abigail’s only battle is defending Harris, her outcast best friend who swears his parents were abducted by aliens. She’s secretly sure he’s delusional—right up until his bedroom explodes in amethyst light.
They wake up aboard the Beast’s Burden, an interstellar warship lurking above their town. Its leader, a sadistic warlord, seizes Harris as his prize, while Abigail slips away in the chaos—overlooked, underestimated.
Until she kills an alien to survive.
Now, hunted through the ship’s living corridors, Abigail must decide: retreat into the shadows, or unleash the lethal training she buried to wage a one-girl war and save everything she’s ever known… Because Harris isn’t just a hostage. He’s the trigger for humanity’s extinction.
“Wait—I’m sorry. Abigail, I didn’t mean that. Please don’t go.”
Abigail froze in her tracks, but it had nothing to do with Harris’s plea. An unearthly shriek had erupted, ricocheting endlessly around the room, and all the warmth had instantly drained from her body.
“What is that?” she asked, ice surging through her veins.
Harris looked like he had seen a ghost. “I have no idea, but it’s coming from—”
With a deafening crack, four dark spheres shot out from underneath the bed and slammed into the corners of the room. Abigail watched, petrified, as the spheres oozed apart, spreading to cover the walls in a thick layer of disgusting sludge.
“You’re seeing this, right?” she said, voice trembling.
Harris nodded slowly, and Miss Biscuits started howling.
The ghastly sound reached a new ear-piercing level as the sludge began crackling with unstable amethyst purple energy.
“We need to get out of here!” Abigail shouted. She dashed for the window, but the light glittering across its surface flared violently in response, and she recoiled, backing away slowly.
The shriek was becoming unbearable. Abigail could hardly hear herself think, let alone process what was happening.
“This way!” shouted Harris as he lunged for the bedroom door, but the pulsing glow surrounding the handle suddenly sparked, jumping eagerly to his outstretched hand.
Amethyst purple light rippled through Harris’s entire body, shining beneath his skin. Abigail watched in horror as an unnatural smile slowly twisted across his face.
“Harris?” she said cautiously.
Harris’s head swiveled toward Abigail and his morbid grin twisted into fear. The amethyst purple light erupted out of his skin, contorting him backwards into a jagged arch. His body was suddenly blasted onto the ceiling, held there for a moment by an invisible force before dropping sharply to the ground, the impact kicking up a cloud of dust from the hardwood.
“Harris!” Abigail screamed, rushing to his motionless body. This was a nightmare. Everywhere she looked the amethyst purple light was encroaching—over the ceiling, across the walls, and covering the floor, inching right for them. Abigail scrambled to grab Harris under his arms and used every ounce of her strength to drag him onto the bed, only just avoiding the energy as it engulfed the remainder of the room’s surfaces.
“Harris, wake up!” she shouted as she checked for a pulse.
“Abby!?” came a muffled cry.
She strained to see Taylor pounding outside the window, an uncharacteristically horrified expression on his face through the amethyst-colored glare. He took a step back and then charged, but the barrier flared the moment his shoulder made contact, and he was repelled away in a shower of shattered glass.
Abigail’s eyes darted around the room, her fear mounting as the shrieking hit yet another plateau. Blood pounded in her ears. “Harris, wake up. Please wake up!” she pleaded, her voice barely audible over the howling of Miss Biscuits and everything else.
The sludgy spheres had re-formed in the corners of the ceiling and they were pulsing erratically. They seemed to be the source of whatever was happening—what was happening?!—perhaps they could be shut down somehow… But how? Abigail grabbed Harris’s hand, hopelessly begging him to wake up, and her fingers made contact with a ripple of raised skin—the scar.
Abigail’s gaze snapped to the samurai sword hanging on the wall. Scrambling to her feet, she ripped it from its mount and unsheathed it. The gleaming blade appeared as sharp as it had all those years ago.
“Abby! Abby! What are you doing?!” Taylor’s voice cut through the chaos. He was back on his feet just outside the shattered window. He was holding up a small metallic object that Abigail couldn’t quite make out through the amethyst refraction. She didn’t have time for this. The high-pitched shriek was growing more and more deafening, the amethyst-colored light burning ever more severely. Instinctively, she knew it was now or never. She had to disrupt whatever was happening.
She frantically scanned the spheres, her entire body shaking. Though she had no clue this would work, the one in the corner by the door seemed like her best shot. “You can do this,” she said to herself, but she didn’t remotely believe it. Gathering all her strength, she sprinted towards the edge of the bed, leaping into the air with the hilt held firmly in her grasp. With a loud clang, the sword sliced through the sphere, miraculously penetrating the energy barrier and lodging in the wall.
As gravity pulled Abigail toward the floor, time seemed to slow, and she watched the damaged sphere start to skitter in and out of reality, spewing sparks in all directions like it was about to explode. The blinding amethyst light and eardrum-bursting shriek reached their crescendos just before Abigail hit the ground.
She felt a surge of pure agony, and then, there was nothing.
Author Bio:
J.S. Ash has spent over a decade working in media at one of the largest tech companies in the world, though his true love remains storytelling. His creative DNA was forged in the 90s—a blend of blockbuster action cinema, console gaming, and the high-stakes melodrama of the era’s teen soaps. He lives with his wife and daughter, who serve as the primary inspiration for the resilient, protective heroines at the heart of his stories.
Arcanum: In the Temple Shadows Kelly O’Hearn (Arcanum, #1) Publication date: May 20th 2024 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
Arcanum: In the Temple Shadowsis Book One in a series of novels channeled through the tarot cards by noted intuitive Kelly O’Hearn—the first of its kind!
In this sexy past life romance, sometimes happily ever after takes more than one lifetime. Meet Sarah Fuller. It’s her 40th birthday and things are starting to get weird. Is it deja vu? A midlife crisis? Nervous breakdown? Who is this dark, handsome stranger she feels like she’s met before? Not on Fifth Avenue or through her luxury fragrance company but, like, many lifetimes ago?
Her husband, her best friend, her shrink: everyone seems to think they know what’s best for her these days. Sarah’s always been a skeptic, but when she meets this intriguing psychic who tells her she might have been a Pharaoh’s lover and powerful mystic in ancient Egypt, thousands of years ago, it feels so right that she’s determined to find out more.
“I was given early access to the manuscript of Arcanum, and I was immediately immersed in this unique and sassy book! It’s like Carrie Bradshaw meets Cleopatra. The tension and drama between the characters was enthralling, both in their current lives and their past lives. I can’t wait for the second book in the series!” K. Lewis
Arcanum: Whispers In The Forest Kelly O’Hearn (Arcanum, #2) Publication date: May 13th 2025 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
From noted intuitive channeler Kelly O’Hearn comes the spellbinding second installment in the critically acclaimed Arcanum series—a mesmerizing blend of romance, reincarnation, and sensual awakening that spans across centuries.
When Manhattan parfumier Sarah Fuller abandons her picture-perfect life to pursue an obsession with an ancient rose in the South of France, she never expects to unearth secrets buried for centuries. What begins as a professional quest quickly transforms into a soul-stirring journey, cosmically interwoven with that of a medieval maiden with mysterious powers.
As her marriage crumbles and her closest friendship fractures, Sarah’s carefully constructed reality begins to unravel. Between the gleaming penthouses of New York and the sun-drenched fields of Provence, she discovers that the fragrance she seeks may be the key to unlocking a past life—and a love that has endured across time itself.
But some secrets are meant to stay buried, and as Sarah delves deeper into her past, she must decide: Will she heed the whispers that call to her from the forest, or will she lose herself to them completely?
All of a sudden she felt an invisible ripple along her spine, a jolt of something. Her eyes flew open, and she saw a man standing about five feet in front of her.
“Holy shit,” she blurted. “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”
“Other than the two hundred people hobnobbing in the Temple of Dendur?”
“Yeah, other than those jerks.”
His smile was a knockout. If she weren’t happily married…scratch that. Tall, dark, probably of Middle Eastern descent? Gorgeous tux. Crooked smile. She’d have to be dead not to find him…attractive.
That was one word for it. Hot-as-fuck might be another.
“Harry Aiken.” He held out his hand.
Was her mouth agape? Sarah settled herself. “Of course you are…”
She took his hand in hers, and the two of them stood there for way too long. Maybe it was only a second or two, but she felt—well, she felt everything. The power of his grip, the warmth of his skin, the clean smell of him, the slight bristle of the hairs on the back of his hand, his eyes—but beyond all of those sensory, well, pleasures, really, she felt like he was definitely part of whatever gut-roiling recalibration or transformation was going on inside her today. He was somehow in on it.
She released his hand and backed away a step, as if he had burned her.
Or could.
And then she started breathing again.
“Weird day.” She shook her head and started walking slowly around the atrium.
“Do you want to be alone?” he asked.
“Not necessarily. I just didn’t want to be in a room with hundreds of people.”
Harry put his hands in his pockets and walked alongside her. “Same. I left right before the guest of honor arrived. Just all a bit too much for me, you know.”
Sarah realized his clean, buttoned-up smell was just a top note. Sandalwood, tobacco, myrrh: this man was into expensive fragrance of some sort or another, and their heat had brought it to life. A deep, masculine scent. Her mortal weakness.
“You’ve never met her?”
“No. I’m not really even sure why I’m here. I met this hilarious guy named Max—”
She couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, I know him.”
“Right? I met him last week. Turns out he’s best friends with the CEO of this company I do business with whom I’ve been trying to meet for years. She’s got a firewall of assistants around her. Max is a great guy and all, but he was like, ‘You should totally come meet Sarah and learn more about her new foundation, yadda yadda…’ and I was like, ‘Great, I’d really appreciate the introduction.’ and then he’s like, ‘I got you on the list to her surprise party Saturday night’ and I’m like, ‘Well, that’s a little weird to show up at someone’s fortieth birthday party uninvited, if I’ve never even met them, don’t you think?’ But he’s kind of persuasive and funny, and it all seemed like a good idea last week. But now I’m just like a fish out of water…and now I’m babbling—”
When he turned to face her, their eyes caught again, and held, like they had when they’d shaken hands. “I’m not usually nervous, but you’ve caught me off guard,” he said.
Sarah just gave herself permission to stare at him. Why not? It was her birthday, wasn’t it? And maybe he was her gift. Her lip must have lifted slightly on one side when she thought that, because his glance darted to her mouth and his pupils dilated.
Then, as if realizing that what he was doing could be construed as creepy, his eyes flew back up to hers.
Her smile widened.
You can look at my mouth anytime you like, she almost said—but caught herself before she did something…regrettable.
“So, is this going to be like some Cinderella story?” he asked, his voice deeper, stronger, if that was even possible. “Are you going to introduce yourself, or am I going to have to enlist the cavalry and ride my steed throughout the kingdom tomorrow to find out your true identity?”
Harry Aiken on horseback, commanding an army. Wheeling his horse around with perfect control. Mastery. Smoke and leather and the clang of ancient weapons and still, always, his eyes on her, always on her. Tracking her, minding her, loving her.
“I could see that,” she whispered, then turned to walk back toward the party. “I guess it is a bit of a Cinderella story,” she continued, forcing her voice to take on a more carefree tone. “Because I’ll definitely turn into a pumpkin if I don’t get back to hobnobbing.”
Author Bio:
When Kelly O’Hearn first stepped off the train in the city of Florence, Italy, as a 20-year-old, she had the overwhelming instinct that she had been there before. In a place famous for its maze of medieval streets, O’Hearn navigated the city as if she had lived there for a lifetime. Born in New York City, O’Hearn first put her intuitive skills to work as a professional wine taster, instructor, and sommelier in the elite institutions of New York, Portugal, and Aspen. After raising her two children and enduring a personal health crisis, in 2012, she was drawn to begin reading the tarot cards, an ancient practice which does not presume to “predict the future” but offers a collection of stories, perspectives, and self-reflections that can guide one to become one’s most authentic self. O’Hearn is in high demand for her readings, with clients on every continent but Antartica. While most people were baking sourdough or riding their Pelotons during the Covid pandemic, O’Hearn used the tarot cards to channel her own past lives. Weeks of readings, all captured on video, yielded six storylines of herself as several powerful women over the millennia and around the globe: the same one soul, over time, persevering against all odds in the quest for happiness and the love of a soul mate. This time-bending saga inspired O’Hearn to conceive of a series of novels titled Arcanum. Book One: In the Temple Shadows is available now. Book Two: Whispers in the Forest will be released Spring of 2025.
Burn Her They Said Cherish Wright (The Anomalies of Ampara Deicra, #1) Publication date: June 26th 2026 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
What would you endure for those you love?
Imperial Grand Witch Tasch was born with emotional influencing magic stronger and stranger than any other witch—an Anomaly the Emperor requires to manage his temper and that of those he interacts with under threat of harm to those she cares the most. He assigns five sorcerers–all Anomalies–each the strongest in their magical form. After years of enduring the hardship of serving the Emperor, they form an alliance intending to free every citizen.
One sorcerer changes everything.
Until a sorcerer named Varic is found to have magic surpassing Tasch’s Lead Guard, to which the Emperor sends him to serve in the Imperial Army, diverting from his claim to have assigned only the strongest sorcerers in the Continent to Tasch’s detail no longer being accurate.
Varic is made to strengthen his magic until even he cannot contain it, resulting in the worst magical catastrophe in history. Wielding power the Emperor covets, he sends Tasch to rehabilitate him with the false belief her magic alone can make him want to live. Tasch soon discovers Varic is another survivor of the same corrupt system and they forge a strong bond, free from the Emperor’s prying eyes for once in her life. In the months Varic requires for healing, they fall in love—a love so forbidden, the consequences are too dire to mention.
Oppression forms unbreakable bonds.
Increased attacks on the Imperial Palace require drastic measures, prompting the Emperor to assign Varic over Tasch’s detail. The problem being now that bordering lands are escalating their efforts to reclaim necessary resources the Emperor hoards, Varic’s presence makes it impossible for he and Tasch to hide their feelings for one another, as well as the signs her magic is fading drastically. And with no heir apparent due to the Emperor’s belief he will discover the answer to immortality, they need to be more careful than ever.
In an Empire where Dragons are revered like Gods, one power-hungry tyrant rules it all, while Tasch and her Guards .
Dragonfall meets A Discovery of Witches in this dark fantasy forbiddenromance between Imperial Grand Witch Tasch whose magic is fading, and Varic, the sorcerer she saved years earlier who will stop at nothing to return the favor. Family, power, and Empire collide in the first of this series as everything Tasch has ever known begins to change. Will they find a way to save her without major consequence to the citizens, or will her magic fade entirely?
Author Bio:
Writer of Dark Romantic Gothic Fantasy with character driven stories with MC’s in their 30’s
Flight L Theodoora Publication date: November 14th 2013 Genres: Adult, Romance, Science Fiction
Piper Madden used to be an Ace Harpy Hunter, but after the death of her brother, she’ll do anything to leave that life behind. She flees to the fringe underground zone called the Rift to live out her exile on her own terms.
But the authoritarian Elder Corporation isn’t about to let one of their best assets slip through the cracks. Piper is drawn back into the fray on a contract basis to combat a rising Harpy insurgence. As she struggles through her grief, she’s caught between her old life in Central and her new, confusing existence in the Rift.
With the president of Elder Corp asking Piper to spy on his sister, navigating the surprisingly passive strategies of the Rift, and a strange friendship with the mysterious Asher, Piper’s days are filled with more questions than answers.
Then, a chance encounter leaves Piper privy to a dangerous resistance plot, and as she and Asher team up in an effort to unravel the truth, the secrets they uncover beneath the ancient walls of the dead city will spark their world into a grand-scale war.
Wisps of smoke fill my mouth as I struggle to inhale, grasping the edges of my lungs until I let out a violent cough. I grope around the charred floor, unable to see, until my fingers brush his warm skin. Asher.
I force my eyes open, the thick smoke clouding them with hot tears. Asher lies beside me, sprawled across the crackling wooden floor. His eyes are dark, as though they’re filled with liquid black ink. He pulses, his jaw clenching as ebony wings slowly, painfully, rupture from his back, tearing through his skin. I reach my hand to grip his arm, avoiding the scattered debris.
“Ash?”
The flames lick up the walls around us to quell their hunger. Asher flinches when he sees me, slowly backing away as though I’m a stranger. Shit. The drugs have started working, which means I’m going to forget him, too. I wipe thick sweat from my face, crawling toward him and clutching his shirt tightly. If he moves, I’ll move with him. It’s dangerous, but I can’t let him go.
Not yet.
“Asher! It’s me!” I shout. “It’s Piper. Please. You know me.” I ignore the threat of his razor-sharp talons and wrap my arms around his wiry body. His scent, a mix of crisp cedar and musk, lets me cling to previous moments of us: his hands on my body, his lips caressing mine, staring at the stars and talking about the universe, our bodies flying high above ground. Moments I can’t forget.
“Please,” I whisper fiercely, “please remember me.” His body trembles, but he fights through it, stopping himself from tossing me aside. Just for a moment, his eyes fade back to their natural light blue, and he grabs my shirt forcefully. He buries his face into my neck like he’s breathing me in for the last time, and we cling to each other as the beams of the building crackle and come apart, sending showers of sparks raining around us.
“Piper,” he whispers. He pushes me back to arm’s length, grunting as he struggles to stay with me. Something stronger, something darker is trying to pull him under, and there’s only so long until he falls into its depths. It won’t be long now.
“Yes?” I reply, gripping his arms so tight I might leave bruises. I can’t lose him here. I won’t accept that this is the end. I look into his eyes, searching for a sign that he’s still my Asher.
That he’s not just some monster.
“I’ll find you again when this is all over,” he says, tracing his fingers over my temples.
“But how? You won’t recognize me, and I won’t recognize you. We’ll be strangers,” I murmur.
His eyes flash with an angry determination. “I would know you, Piper Madden, anywhere, any time of my life. They can try to force you away from me, but I’m not done fighting back. For the first time in my life, I’m actually fighting for something. I will find you,” he says.
We’re rocked backward as the wall explodes from pressure. He holds me tightly to keep me balanced, using his wings for leverage. Gunshots ring out in the distance, and I know it’s only a matter of time before they infiltrate and retrieve us. People I should have been able to trust. It hurts now knowing I never could.
Finally, I can feel the siren’s song of the drug pulling me into its shallow haze. Warmth floods my body as my memories are dragged just out of reach. I try to cling to them, but they drift away like petals in the wind. Asher grunts and rolls away from me, grasping his head with his hands, and his wings begin to tremble.
I look around, my head on a swivel as I struggle to stay present. How did we get here?
The moments leading up to this one drop like they’re falling down a staircase one by one.
“Asher!” I shout again, trying to bring him back to me for a little while longer. He pants heavily, willing himself to stand and remain conscious. I want to keep fighting, but I can feel my strength fading. The futility of it all wraps itself around my bones, leeching all hope. This is it.
“Promise me you’ll find me,” I whisper into Asher’s chest. Even though he’s in agony, he strokes my hair, rubs his thumb along my cheek, presses his lips against my neck.
“I promise,” he whispers, over and over, like a mantra. “I promise, I promise, I promise.”
Author Bio:
Theo is an author, screenwriter, and game designer from Northern Ontario.
She writes achingly romantic stories about complicated characters, often pulling from dark or strange places.
She has a passion for the ritual of writing, and for helping others achieve their writing goals through process and StoryCraft.
When she was only 15, Kaylene Winter wrote her first rocker romance novel starring a fictionalized version of herself, her friends and their gorgeous rocker boyfriends. After living her own rockstar life as a band manager, music promoter and mover and shaker in Seattle during the early 1990’s, Kaylene became a digital media legal strategist helping bring movies, television and music online. Throughout her busy career, Kaylene lost herself in romance novels across all genres inspiring her to realize her life-long dream to be a published author. She lives in Seattle with her amazing husband and dog. She loves to travel, throw lavish dinner parties and support charitable causes supporting arts and animals.
To Hell and Back Bill Blume Publication date: January 20th 2026 Genres: Adult, Fantasy
For one pair of swordfighters, their marriage is worth going to Hell and back.
Ty and Dani are a modern-day, swordfighting husband-and-wife duo who help with exorcisms until a demon kills Dani’s mother and all of their fellow exorcists. Now, they’re on a quest for revenge through the realms of Hell, and killing the demon is just the start of the journey. To keep the demon from reviving, Dani and Ty must escape Hell within seven days and cast the demon’s head and heart into an Eternal Flame. To get back to the mortal realm in time, they rely on their small terrier Wicket to lead them past the demon’s army and thousands of other horrors.
To Hell and Back takes readers on an epic journey perfect for those who believe love can overcome any challenge and that a devoted dog makes the perfect guide no matter where you need to go.
They didn’t drive far, parking on a cobblestone street next to the café, sitting on a street corner. The entire front wall of the café was made up of tall doors that were all turned open to take advantage of the pleasant spring weather. Ty sucked down his coffee. It tasted stronger than what he preferred, but as tired as he was, he considered that a good thing.
“I imagine you have a lot of questions.” Maria sat at one of the tables closest to the sidewalk with people dressed in business suits and hospital scrubs walking by. She crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, draping her arm over the back of it.
“I’m told you work for the church?” He decided against gambling on whether it was the Catholic or Episcopal Church.
“Heard that, did you?” She cracked an amused grin, as if she’d been privy to his conversation with Barry. “That’s only partially true. We’re funded by the Church of England, but we don’t answer to them.”
Taking a chug of his coffee, Ty then asked, “And who is we?”
“A fair question, and I’ll get to that soon enough.” She paused for her own sip of coffee. When she continued, she stared out at the street as cars rumbled across the cobblestones. “I’d like to talk about you a bit first. I notice you’ve started the transition.”
“The what?”
“Oh, you’re trying to find a way to make a living off that sword arm of yours that doesn’t require a nine-to-five job typing on a keyboard or some other nonsense. You’re going the usual route: giving lessons to wannabes drunk on fantasies of medieval knights or Star Wars. You know. The usual stuff.” She looked at him with a smirk that assured him she already knew the answer to her next question. “You enjoying all that?”
He cleared his throat and sniffed. His sinuses were still killing him.
“I’m paying my bills.” He shrugged, trying to mimic her nonchalance by turning his focus out onto the street and the passersby. Didn’t keep him from seeing her amused reaction to his answer, that she knew he was full of shit.
Yeah, he’d taken to giving part-time lessons at a local fencing club that included saber fighting. Most of the job seemed more about punishing clients into the realization that they weren’t going to turn into Inigo Montoya overnight and that fighting with a sword required both finesse and brutality. Being good with a sword required a killer instinct. Forcing others with limited skills to realize they didn’t have that certain something was taking a toll on him.
“Look, Mr. Faison.” She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. “For some people that’s enough, and that’s fine.” The way she said “fine” left little doubt it was anything but that. “But someone like you…” She shook her head.
He tried to bluff, acting amused and disinterested, but his acting skills failed him again. “You think so?”
The way her expression hardened, that single eye narrowing on him, forced his full focus on her. “I think you’re the kind of person who’s only ever whole when he’s got a sword in his hand and a real fight in front of him.”
She leaned back in her chair again, with all the satisfaction of a wildcat dining on a fresh kill. The silence offered him a chance to respond, but she’d left him speechless. No one had ever peeled him down to his bones like this—not even his parents—not this fast or with such ease.
After giving him his chance to answer and seeing he wasn’t able to, Maria sipped her coffee and then continued. “You’re twenty-six. You used to finish in the top three at most competitions you entered but you haven’t in more than a year. It’s not that your skills or body are fading, and it’s not because you’re distracted by the side work that pays the bills. No, it’s because even the competitions are starting to bore you. Those fights aren’t real anymore, because all that’s at stake there is pride.”
“And what? You’re offering me a ‘real fight’? What is this? Some kind of underground sword fight club, where the loser dies, and the first rule is to not talk about it?”
She shook her head, grinning at his attempt at wit. “This is no game or club. Underground? Somewhat. But what you’ll be doing will make a real difference in people’s lives. I’m offering you a chance to reclaim that fire that ignited the moment you first touched a sword.
“I’m giving you a chance to find your heart.”
Author Bio:
Bill Blume discovered his love for the written word while in high school and has been writing ever since. His latest novel, West of Apocalypse, is now available from Time Killer Publishing. His short stories have been published in many fantasy anthologies and various ezines.
Like the father figure in his “Gidion Keep, Vampire Hunter” novels, Bill works as a 911 dispatcher for Henrico County Police and has done so for more than two decades. He served as the 2013 chair for James River Writers, which produces one of the nation’s best annual conferences for educating and connecting writers.
He graduated from the University of South Carolina with a degree in Broadcast Journalism in 1995. In the years after, he worked as a TV news producer, first in Columbus, Georgia, and then in Richmond, Virginia, which has become home for Bill & his family.
