The Ordinary Bruja: Marisol’s Story Johanny Ortega (Las Cerradoras, #1) Publication date: November 1st 2025 Genres: Adult, Horror, Magical Realism, Psychological
The Ordinary Bruja is a haunting and heartfelt coming-of-age novel wrapped in Dominican magical realism and psychological horror.
Marisol Espinal doesn’t believe she’s special. Not when she’s back in her small Ohio hometown, working as a barista, haunted by grief and the girls who once made her life hell. But when mirrors flicker with strange words, cigar smoke curls where no one is smoking, and voices whisper from Hallowthorn Hill, she realizes something darker has always been watching.
The Espinal family magic was buried generations ago-forced into silence by Salvador, the ancestor who bound their power for himself. Now his ghost feeds on fear and doubt, and Marisol is his next target. To survive, she must reclaim her heritage, unearth the truth hidden in her mother’s journal, and face the hill that has been waiting for her all along.
Atmospheric and emotionally charged, The Ordinary Bruja blends generational trauma, identity reclamation, and queer love with a creeping sense of dread. Perfect for fans of The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina and Mexican Gothic, this novel asks: What does it cost to embrace every part of yourself-even the parts the world taught you to bury?
“Ten months since she had dropped out and came home, to the place she promised herself she’d never return to. She was bad at keeping promises. That was for sure.”
—
PRAISE for The Ordinary Bruja
“There is spirituality, magic, ghosts, there is plenty of love, there is loss; and above all there is familia, both genetic and of choice.”
“…An impactful horror story that blew me away.”
“This book . . . pushed me to confront my own assumptions about history.”
“You can absolutely feel the anguish Marisol feels at the loss of her mother.”
“I absolutely enjoyed “The Ordinary Bruja”. It was a perfect mix between horror (with a slight humor – thank you early Marisol and her “nope” moments + Kia) and a story that shows you that you need to find your own way, even if everything is pushing you down.”
Author Bio:
Johanny Ortega is a Dominican American author who writes across genres—blending psychological horror, literary fiction, magical realism, and thrillers that punch you right in the gut. Whether writing about haunted hills, generational trauma, or the quiet unraveling of everyday life, her stories center marginalized voices, morally complex women, and the messy truth about survival.
She is the founder of Have a Cup of Johanny, a creative platform where she blogs, podcasts, and advocates for inclusive storytelling. Her award-winning middle-grade and adult fiction has resonated with readers who crave depth, grit, and emotional honesty.
When she’s not writing, she’s raising kids in a blended military family, reading books that wreck her soul in the best way, and saying what others are afraid to.
The Bridge Shanna Hatfield Publication date: October 7th 2025 Genres: Adult, Holiday, Women’s Fiction
One Bridge. Five Strangers. A Christmas Eve That Changes Everything.
On a bridge suspended above the Willamette River, five lives collide for a journey through hope and hardship in a suspenseful, heartwarming tale of courage, connection, and the magic of second chances.
Sergeant Archer Raines has worked every holiday all year for one reason: to finally spend Christmas with his wife. But when a desperate man threatens to jump from Portland’s St. Johns Bridge, Archer’s expert negotiation skills are required to defuse the situation.
Rosalee, a high-powered accountant and mom-to-be, only meant to swing by home for a forgotten phone and client file. Then her car is caught in the chaos on the bridge, she unexpectedly goes into labor, and her carefully planned world begins to unravel amidst the unfolding drama.
Exhausted nurse Nova just wants to make it home for Christmas after too many night shifts. When the pileup halts traffic and Rosalee’s baby is on the way, Nova puts her own plans on hold to help a stranger in need.
Carter, the owner of a busy tow truck business, regrets taking the call to clear the multi-car collision off the bridge. He’d intended to spend the day tackling last-minute holiday errands. Instead, he’s praying the lunatic pointing a gun at him doesn’t pull the trigger.
Fresh out of college and anxious to kick-start his career, Ian’s running late when his car won’t start the morning of his big interview. His rideshare driver turns out to be a captivating girl with a penchant for aggressive driving that narrowly saves them from being part of the wreck on the bridge, sending Ian on an unexpected path of his own.
The Bridge is the perfect uplifting holiday read and a story of how one frozen moment can thaw even the loneliest of hearts.
He’d just stepped outside when he saw a vehicle roaring up the street. The rideshare logo was clearly visible in the passenger-side corner of the windshield. He hoped the maniac driving the small SUV wouldn’t kill him in a fiery crash before they even made it out of the neighborhood.
He lifted a hand as he stepped out to the curb, and the SUV came to a precise stop beside him. All he had to do was open the door and slide into the back seat.
“You’re the dude heading to Magra? Ian Alexander?” the driver asked, giving him a glimpse over her shoulder.
Ian nodded, then cleared his throat. “Yes. I’m Ian. Do you have the address?”
“Got it right here,” she said, then blew a big pink bubble and popped her gum.
He was in the process of buckling his seat belt when she hit the gas and zipped into the street, barely slowed at the corner, and picked up speed as she headed toward the highway.
Ian prayed he’d survive the trip and wouldn’t be so rattled by the experience he’d mess up his interview. He drew in a long breath and inhaled a fragrance reminiscent of spiced cider and warm fires. He didn’t see an air freshener hanging up and wondered if it was just the driver. If so, she smelled amazing.
Head in the game.
Now was not the time to check out a girl. Besides, this one certainly wasn’t his type even if she appeared to be close to his age. From the quick glance she’d given him, he’d concluded she was into goth with her thick, black eyeliner and dark eye shadow, a nose ring, blood-red lipstick, and a dragon earring that encircled her entire ear. She had on fingerless gloves with leather cuffs and a black leather jacket sporting silver studs around the collar. He had no idea what color her hair might have been because it was all stuffed up under a slouchy black velvet hat.
He wondered what she’d look like if she washed her face and dressed in something less biker chic and more … feminine.
Ian almost face-palmed himself. Good grief! He was starting to sound like his parents. He didn’t care if the woman was dressed as one of Santa’s elves as long as she got him to his interview on time, preferably in one piece.
To distract himself from the fact that goth girl seemed to think she was training for the Indy 500 or perhaps to become a New York City cab driver, he rehearsed what he planned to say at the interview. When it felt as though the SUV went around a corner on two wheels, Ian latched onto the handle above the door and held on for dear life. What kind of crazy person was about to get him killed?
“Ever think about becoming a race car driver?” he asked as she barely slowed at a stop sign and took a right onto the highway.
She glanced back at him and smirked. “Only every other day. Unfortunately for you, today is an even day, and I’m practicing.”
Author Bio:
USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.
Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”
When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.
To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield
She had a foolproof plan. He thought his future was sealed. Neither of them imagined life would take them down a different path …
Allie
I never planned to live in Elk Lake again, but here I am. I was going to get married, have a great family and career, and then I’d get my happily-ever-after stamped on the passport of my life.
But Brett cheated and got his mistress pregnant with quadruplets. Karma was my consolation and believe me when I tell you, I couldn’t have been more satisfied by the outcome.
Just as I was busy with my fresh start, Noah Riley walked back into my life. I’ve always worshipped my best friend’s older brother, but he never noticed me.
Until that one day …
Noah
What coach gets demoted after taking their high school basketball team all the way to third in the state? Me, that’s who.
I could have gotten any other job in Chicago, but my anger and hurt pride caused me to accept a position at my alma mater. That’s right, I’m the new basketball coach of the Elk Lake Crappies. Don’t think the irony is lost on me.
My goal is to make a splash with my new team, and then have my old school beg to hire me back. Of course, I won’t accept until there’s an appropriate amount of groveling, along with a substantial pay raise.
When I moved to Elk Lake, I never expected to run into my sister’s best friend from childhood.
Who knew Allie Rogers would make me reconsider my dream?
Instead of agreeing that I should be the captain of my own ship, my mother laments, “I always thought your life would turn out like one of those delightful romcoms from the nineteen nineties. You know, single girl meets the love of her life in a quirky, yet totally believable way …”
I’m not sure which movie she’s thinking of as I’ve grown up watching them all with her. On repeat.
“Which Julia Roberts character did you envision me being? If it’s Vivian Ward in Pretty Woman, I’ll have to move to LA and become a sex worker first.” My mom pushes out of my arms and stares at me in horror.
Instead of letting the subject drop, I feel a burst of indignant steam start to build. “If you want me to be like Anna Scott in Knotting Hill, I’ll also have to move to LA, but this time I’ll have to figure out how to become a movie star. Then I’ll need to find an abusive boyfriend so I can cheat on him with a bookstore owner in London.” How does she find these to be believable scenarios?
Hurt tinges her voice as she responds, “What about Jules Potter in My Best Friend’s Wedding?”
“She didn’t even wind up with the guy!” I shout.
“How about the Runaway Bride?” This woman is relentless.
“I would have to get engaged three times so I could dump three men before my true love showed up to write an article about my chaotic life,” I remind her.
My mom’s face screws up in an agonizing expression like she’s painfully wracking her brain. “Maybe not a Julia Roberts movie then. What about Sandra Bullock? Her romcoms were more girl-next-door, which is exactly what you are.”
Raising my hand into the air, I start ticking off fingers. “While You Were Sleeping would involve nearly killing someone in a train accident so I could lie to the victim’s family and fall for his brother. In Miss Congeniality, I’d have to be an FBI agent masquerading as Miss New Jersey. Hope Floats would get me that husband and child you so badly want me to have but said husband would have to dump me on national television before running off with my best friend. Do you want me to go on?” I demand.
Confusion riddles my mom’s features resulting in my feeling an unexpected wave of compassion for her. “I don’t want any of that for you. I just want you to have a beautiful and happy ending to your story.”
“My story is a long way from being over, Mom.” I’m not going to tell her that my vision of the future is nothing like what she’s hoping for. As in, I’m pretty sure I’ll never let myself be vulnerable enough to give love a second chance. I know for certain I will never have my own children. Three lost pregnancies are enough for me to take the hint.
My mother inhales deeply before telling me, “I’m not good at leaving things in the hands of fate.”
“No, you’re not. You’re the worst control freak I know, but that doesn’t mean you’ve been appointed God and get to make all the decisions for my life.”
“I don’t want to make all the decisions. I just want you to start living again!”
“I’m enough on my own, Mom. I don’t have to be a wife to have value.” I can tell I’ve hurt her feelings again, but what else can I do? It’s like we’re two different species with zero understanding of how the other works.
With hands on hips, she demands, “What’s your five-year plan?”
“To still be breathing,” I tell her honestly.
“Do you ever want to get back into publishing?”
I offer a brief shrug. “Can’t say.”
“Do you plan on working at Rosemary’s for the rest of your life?”
“Would there be anything wrong with that? Would you not be able to love me anymore if I don’t get the Hollywood ending you’ve always imagined for me?”
My mom’s face turns bright red, which is a sure indicator she’s about to lose her cool. But instead of screaming at me, she merely turns around and strides out of the dining room like she’s on her way to execute a military coup. Napoleon had nothing on this woman.
I take her reaction to my question to mean that her love is dependent on my capitulation to her vision. Well, too freaking bad, Margaret. I’m not going to try to make you happy when I don’t even know what will make me happy.
My phone pings before I can stand up and clear the remnants of my uneaten breakfast. Picking it up, I click on the message notification and read a text from Lorelai.
Lorelai: Noah is driving me crazy! I’ve been asking him to put my navy-blue cashmere sweater in the mail for a week, and he hasn’t done it. Would you mind going over to my parents’ house and sending it? The key is under the mat.
My nervous system responds by causing me to break out into a cold sweat. I do not want to see Noah Riley. To be honest, I hate that he’s moved back to Elk Lake. There is no place in my life for my childhood crush. He’s part of my past and I will not go out of my way to run into him again.
Having said that, Lorelai is my best friend, and she never asks for anything. Shoot! I’m going to have to do it. I’ll just have to make sure to go when Noah isn’t there.
Author Bio:
Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries — not always in that order.
Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.
She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.
Gold Medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2017.
Silver medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.
Death By Mistake Abigail Keam (A Josiah Reynolds Mystery, #22) Publication date: October 13th 2025 Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery
In a world of oak-cured bourbon, antebellum mansions, and Thoroughbred farms, secrets buried in the deep earth are never hidden long.
Josiah has resigned herself to being alone. Her boyfriend, Hunter left her for an old flame, and Josiah vows not to interfere in his life. She cares for the man and wants him to be happy. So, it comes as a shock when Detective Drake informs her that Hunter has been arrested for the murder of his wife, Kathy Wickliffe. Josiah simply can’t believe Hunter would harm another human being. She must uncover the truth—and fast. There’s the law, and there is Josiah’s justice!
The Josiah Reynolds Mystery Series
Death By A HoneyBee
Death By Drowning
Death By Bridle
Death By Bourbon
Death By Lotto
Death by Chocolate
Death by Haunting
Death By Derby
Death By Design
Death By Malice
Death By Drama
Death By Stalking
Death By Deceit
Death By Magic
Death By Shock
Death By Chance
Death By Poison
Death By Greed
Death By Theft
Death By Betrayal
Death By Trauma
Death By Mistake
Death By Mail
AWARDS
2010 Gold Medal Award from Readers’ Favorite for Death By A HoneyBee
2011 Gold Medal Award from Readers’ Favorite for Death By Drowning
2011 USA BOOK NEWS-Best Books List of 2011 as a Finalist for Death By Drowning
2011 USA BOOK NEWS-Best Books List of 2011 as a Finalist for Death By A HoneyBee
2017 Finalist from Readers’ Favorite for Death By Design
2019 Honorable Mention from Readers’ Favorite for Death By Stalking
2019 Top 10 Mystery Novels from Kings River Life Magazine for Murder Under A Blue Moon
2020 Imadjinn Award for Best Mystery – Death By Stalking
2022 Finalist in Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Finalist for Best Historical Category – Murder Under A Full Moon
2022 Finalist the Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Historical Category – Murder Under A New Moon
2022 Death By Chance: A Josiah Reynolds Mystery Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Finalist for Best Cozy Mystery
—
EXCERPT:
Hunter Wickliffe woke up. Something had sounded in the night and awakened him. Getting out of bed, he went over to the large double-hung sash window, catching sight of a car racing away around the curve of the driveway to Wickliffe Manor. He could hear the car screech to a stop and then turn onto Old Frankfort Pike. He looked at his watch. It was two twenty-three in the morning.
Donning trousers and flip-flops, Hunter trudged down the hallway and opened the door to his wife’s son, Palley’s bedroom. The bed was messy, but no Palley. He then slogged to Kathy’s room, gently knocked, and opened the bedroom door.
The bed was made, showing no one had slept in it. Odd. His wife usually went to bed around midnight.
After checking the upstairs bathrooms and finding them unoccupied, Hunter went down the grand staircase and searched throughout the entire first floor of his 19th-century home. He couldn’t find either Kathy or Palley.
Hunter checked the decorative ceramic bowl by the open back door and saw Kathy’s keys were there. Stepping into the velvet night, he shouted Kathy’s name.
No one returned his call.
Thinking it strange Kathy was not in the house, Hunter went outside to look for her. Discovering Kathy’s Lexus parked in the driveway, he placed his hand on the hood. Hunter found it cold to the touch, so she had to be on the grounds somewhere. He headed to the stables as he heard the boarded horses acting up. That was always a bad sign.
As he walked down the dark gravel path to the horse barn, a Great Horned Owl hooted in the distance, Black Angus cattle snorted in their pasture, and the crunch-crunch of his flip-flops on the gravel were the only sounds to be heard. The otherwise eerie quiet unnerved Hunter. He made a mental note to get some dogs. Dogs were good indicators of people and things not being in place. They were always aware of the unusual. A dog walking beside him in the dark would give him confidence.
Was he frightened?
Hunter was certainly wary.
Something was definitely off.
He picked up a thick fallen branch from a walnut tree and carried it with him. Closer to the barn, he distinctly heard the horses kicking their stalls and neighing occasionally. Not a good sign. Perhaps a coyote had been sniffing around the stable.
Dropping the branch, Hunter stepped through the side door. Searching for the light switch, he found it and turned on the overhead barn lights. The horses immediately quieted down. He first noticed the pedestal fans, which were supposed to circulate the air on warm nights, were turned off. He looked at his watch again. It was two forty-five. As the night cooled, the fans were programmed to switch off at three.
He stepped to the nearest fan and touched the housing. The metal felt wet. Now what would cause water on the fans? Hunter looked up. The roof wasn’t leaking. Besides, it hadn’t rained.
“What’s going on, ladies?” Hunter asked as he opened the stall doors and checked several horses close to the west entrance until he noticed bales of hay lying in disarray on the floor of the barn’s central aisle. Someone or something had also overturned the sweet feed buckets near the storage closet. A sense of dread filled him.
“Kathy? Kathy, are you here?” Hunter called out.
The only responses were horses nickering. Hunter strained to hear his wife’s response or maybe a faint cry for help. Perhaps she went to check on the horses and fell. He wanted to hear something—anything resembling a human voice.
Certain that something was amiss, Hunter went into the first five stalls and opened the back stall doors to a large paddock, letting the pregnant Thoroughbred mares out. He brought them in only at night to keep coyotes and wandering dogs away from them. Free, the horses ambled over to a water trough for a quick sip of cool water.
The last four stalls contained pleasure horses boarded at the Wickliffe Farm. Hunter slid open the stall door and grabbed the skittish Arabian horse by the halter. “Whoa, girl. Whoa. That’s a good girl.” He opened the back exterior door of the stall and pulled the horse toward the outside. She happily joined the other horses now grazing hay left out for them.
Hunter went to the next stall to check on a Quarter horse when he noticed shiny
splotches of a dark substance on the center aisle’s rubber mat. He squatted down and swiped the dark substance with his finger. The substance was gooey, and as he raised his hand to inspect it, the overhead light illuminated the unmistakable red color. Hunter smelled the red substance and rubbed it between his fingers. As a forensic psychiatrist, he had seen enough dead bodies to know this was coagulated blood!
He jumped up and frantically searched the last stalls. “Kathy! Kathy!” There were two remaining horses, which he quickly pulled into the paddock. It wasn’t until Hunter came to the remaining stall that he discovered Kathy lying on her back with unblinking eyes staring at the ceiling. He quickly checked for a pulse, and when he didn’t discover one, Hunter slid down the wall of the stall in disbelief. Shocked, he sat beside his dead wife and put his head between his hands, moaned, “Oh, Kathy. What did you do? What did you do?”
Author Bio:
Abigail Keam is an award-winning and best-selling author who writes the Josiah Reynolds Mystery Series about a Southern female beekeeper turned amateur sleuth living in the glamorous world of oak-cured bourbon, antebellum mansions, and Thoroughbred farms.
Besides loving history, Kentucky bourbon and chocolate, Abigail loves honeybees and for many years made her living by selling honey at a farmers’ market like her protagonist, Josiah Reynolds. She is an award-winning beekeeper who has won many honey awards at the Kentucky State Fair including the Barbara Horn Award, which is given to beekeepers who rate a perfect 100 in a honey competition.
Miss Abigail has taken her knowledge of beekeeping to create a fictional beekeeping protagonist, Josiah Reynolds, who solves murder mysteries in the Bluegrass. While Miss Abigail’s novels are for enjoyment, she discusses the importance of a local sustainable food economy and land management for honeybees and other creatures.
She currently lives on the Kentucky River in a metal house with her husband and various critters.
The Magical Christmas Cottage Aimee O’Brian (Charmed Love, #3) Publication date: October 23rd 2025 Genres: Adult, Holiday, Romance
In the small town of Hazard, sometimes love is the greatest Christmas miracle.
Alina McAllister is starting fresh in the charming town of Hazard, Rhode Island, with a simple plan: take a docent job at the Historical Society and embrace the magic of the season. But when her landlady Hazel suffers a stroke, everything changes. Hazel’s grumpy yet undeniably handsome grandson, Carter Bestwick, swoops into town determined to sell the cottage and move on with his corporate life. He needs Alina to leave—immediately.
With nowhere to go and a snowstorm trapping them together, Alina and Carter are forced into close quarters. What starts as a tense, begrudging arrangement soon sparks undeniable chemistry. As they clear out the attic, they discover Hazel’s magical wedding bands—heirlooms passed down through generations since the Revolutionary War—and find that sometimes, the magic of love is closer than they think.
In this heartwarming, opposites-attract holiday romance, Alina and Carter may just find that the greatest gift of all is an unexpected love.
With a playful glance at Carter, Alina slipped the small gold ring on her finger. It fit perfectly. She admired the filigreed design of clasped hands and held up her own. “What do you think?”
Carter frowned at her. Of course he did. His voice was rough when he spoke. “What are you doing?”
Alina shrugged. “Having some fun. You could try it. You do know what fun is?”
His frown lines deepened into furrows. If he wasn’t careful, he’d look old before his time.
Determined to help him avoid that fate, Alina teased, “Don’t you ever have fun? Here.” She held out the larger ring to him. It too, had a design of clasped hands.
He raised a disapproving brow. “You want me to put on some old wedding band.” It wasn’t a question and the censure in his voice was obvious.
“Sure, why not? What are you afraid of?”
He tilted his head. “I’m not a commitment-phobe if that’s what you’re implying.”
“So, put it on.” She issued the challenge to see if he’d accept.
“We are not making a commitment.”
“No, we are playing. Fun, remember?”
When he just stared at the ring, she added, “I dare you.”
Carter’s eyes narrowed. “You dare me?”
“That’s right, I dare you.” She was back to playground taunts, but this time Alina didn’t care because it really was fun. And he needed to lighten up.
Carter tilted his chin up for a moment before he narrowed his eyes at her and slipped the ring on the third finger of his left hand.
It went on easily like hers had. “See, perfect fit. I wonder where they came from.”
“They’re old, I’m certain.” Carter gazed down at the ring on his finger. “I’ve seen pictures of this type of ring somewhere. Traditional workmanship but surprisingly comfortable. Okay, time to get back to work. Fun’s over.”
“Fun should never be over.”
Carter tugged on the ring to take it off. He blinked, tugged harder. “That’s odd. It went on so smooth, and now it’s stuck.”
Author Bio:
Having lived in both California and Texas, award-winning author Aimee O’Brian now resides in the beautiful wine country where she writes dark, sexy, funny romance. With her three children grown and experiencing their own adventures, she and her husband are free to explore the world. When she’s not reading, writing, or planting even more flowers in her garden, she can be found stomping through ancient ruins and getting lost in museums.
The Silence of Deceit Jillian Eagan (The Deceit Trilogy, #1) Publication date: October 4th 2025 Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
The nation of Seity.
Four ruling families.
One merciless tyrant.
When Eldon Durane executes a noble family and extinguishes all magic, he ignites a war that spans generations.
Two decades later, Lady Rosalie Yorke and her best friend, Silence, are uprooted from their comfortable lives to escape the spreading war. But Rosalie’s world shatters when ruthless raiders kidnap her—only for her fate to collide with Crowe, the notorious pirate captain of the Deceit.
Crowe wants nothing to do with Seity’s political turmoil, but the thirst for revenge leads him to Rosalie. Hoping to change his luck, he decides to extort Rosalie’s father for a ransom.
Rosalie refuses to be anyone’s pawn, and Crowe has no patience for nobility. As the two bicker and dodge danger, Seity’s long-buried secrets begin to emerge from the shadows.
With Eldon’s deadly plan looming, Rosalie and Crowe must set aside their differences. Should they fail, Rosalie may lose everything.
Perfect for fans of Adrienne Young’s Fable and Amie Kaufman’s The Isles of the Gods, The Silence of Deceit is a seafaring tale of betrayal, friendship, and survival. A must-read for fans of pirate fantasy, enemies-to-lovers tension, and sweeping adventures filled with magic and rebellion.
“You left your book lying around.” She picked it up and held it out to him. “Don’t want to lose one of your precious first editions.”
“I didn’t—I left that for you to read.” He didn’t move from the doorway to take it from her.
“You said—”
“I know what I said. But that’s not a first edition, and I was being generous. Don’t get used to it,” he said, and backed out of the cabin.
Rosalie lowered the book but didn’t release her grip.
“Every time I think I have him figured out,” she muttered.
Silence didn’t seem to hear her as she stifled a yawn. “I was up all night, so I’m going to take a nap.”
“Thank you for keeping me safe.” All the doubt in the world couldn’t put a wedge between her and Silence. “I wish I could do something for you in return.”
“I don’t need anything in return because I know you’d do the same for me.” She squeezed Rosalie’s shoulder before heading over to the pile of furs.
Rosalie’s legs were shaky as she stood and left the cabin. After a night of suffering a fever, the ocean air felt incredible on her skin. She found Crowe watching Danny spar with another crew member. She stood next to the captain and pressed the book to her chest.
They watched the duel side by side without saying a word. It was fun to watch two experienced fighters without the threat of harm. It almost looked like a dance—an art of quick steps and clever maneuvers. Out of nowhere, she felt a burning passion to wield a blade. The thought had never crossed her mind before. Before, she had only wanted to take
on the role of a lady who didn’t need any weapons aside from wit and charm.
But seeing the sabers glint in the sunlight sparked a deep desire. Maybe she’d spent too much time among pirates.
“Can I help you?” Crowe broke her fixation.
“What’s the book about?”
“I suppose the point of reading books is to find out what
they’re about,” he replied without looking at her.
“What changed your mind?”
“Nothing changed my mind. It’s an act of grace; savor it, because that’s the only book you’re getting.”
Although he was back to acting prickly, the gesture of giving her a book said more than his words did. “Why did you pick this one? Is it your least favorite?”
“On the contrary,” he said, still avoiding eye contact. “It’s my favorite, so I’d prefer nothing happen to it.”
She made a noise of interest but didn’t say anything else. The captain had lent her a book—not just any book, but his favorite one. It was hard to unravel, but in a way, she felt like she had won at least one round of bickering.
In her victory, she threw Crowe a smirk. But it faded when she saw the late morning sun beaming down on him. His eye color warmed, and the wave of his dark hair caught every ray and rustled a bit in the wind.
At the worst possible moment, he looked her way. When their eyes met, he looked… nervous? “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Huh?” she blurted with too much gusto. “Why are you looking at me?” When his eyebrow quirked up, she shuffled backward. “Thanks for the book.” She ducked her head and made a quick escape to hide her blush.
Author Bio:
Jillian Eagan is an indie author from Massachusetts. She received her BA in Creative Writing from Emmanuel College. Currently, she lives in Cape Cod, where she reads and writes on the beach.
Coming Up for Air Jessica Natalie Reino Published by: Fire and Ice YA Publication date: October 20th 2025 Genres: Fantasy, Paranormal, Young Adult
As if the rumors and whispers from the people of her seaside town, Oceanbrook, weren’t bad enough, 17-year-old Sarah D’Antonio is troubled by the whispers from the forest. It’s not her fault that she hears voices, that she sees auras, and that she has been sleepwalking along the shore. The townspeople, and Sarah’s parents among them, claim that it is all in response to stress, including her chronic migraines and panic attacks. They believe that she can’t come to grips with the fact that her cousin, Lena, is dead. But Sarah knows that the things she is experiencing are real and not something she is bringing on herself. She also knows that Lena is not dead, only missing. She believes that there is something more supernatural going on and that the town is hiding secrets.
Sarah’s feelings are validated when she suddenly becomes thrust into a world in which she has always sensed but never seen. A world of fairy witches, shape-shifters, and legendary creatures. The world of the astral plane. And now, it will be up to her to form alliances to save the magic, fix the astral plane, and most importantly, to bring her cousin home.
I had lost so much over the span of the last few years. Second-guessing everything but still trying to find a reason behind why bad things happen. It’s not like I didn’t know that life wasn’t fair, but living with chronic illness and how everyone reacted differently to Lena’s disappearance really drove home the fact that I would never be able to fully trust my relationships, my health, or even my beliefs. I think that’s what scared me the most. Everything that I had believed was shaken, and I had to build a new normal. I had to build myself back up. Only, I didn’t have a solid foundation on which to do it.
Author Bio:
Jessica Natalie Reino is a multi-genre author with a soft spot for sweet romance and the supernatural. Inspired by her Italian heritage and growing up in New England, she is constantly developing new story ideas that not only raise awareness for those with invisible illnesses, but also promote kindness and the importance of physical and mental health. When she is not working on her own writing, Jess can be found helping other writers achieve their goals, spending time with family and friends, or out on the Zumba® dance floor.
The Black Rose Frances Paul Publication date: October 14th 2025 Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller
“Intense, a little bruising, and it doesn’t let you walk away untouched.”
— ★★★★★ Reader Review
Some weapons are born. Others are made.
She is the perfect operative.
A discarded orphan, remade by the very hands that broke her.
Trained to seduce. Conditioned to kill. Reborn as Elara Everhart.
They gave her new names. New faces. New identities, whichever the mission required.
Now, they call her Raina.
And they’ve sent her into the lion’s den.
Her target: Axel Voss. Billionaire. Powerbroker. Threat.
He’s everything she was trained to dismantle.
But he sees too much. Speaks too little.
And when he touches her, he wakes something she was never meant to feel.
She is the weapon they created.
But he’s the variable they never planned for.
What begins as a mission spirals into obsession.
And survival will cost more than her cover.
Because the most dangerous thing isn’t failing the mission,
It’s forgetting who the real enemy is.
If you love psychological thrillers with espionage, romantic suspense, and heart‑stopping twists, The Black Rose will keep you breathless until the very last page.
“To master the art of the strike, first let the target marinate in your charm and wit, until they are ripe for the taking.” – Elara Everhart
I stepped out of the cab and into the gallery, the air instantly changing around me. Heads turned. Eyes followed. The black Dolce & Gabbana dress I wore fit like it had been sewn onto my skin, elegant without trying, powerful without needing to speak. My hair, sleek and black, fell in glossy waves down my back, every strand precisely where it belonged. I walked with purpose, each step measured, as I took in the room.
It didn’t take long to find him.
Axel Voss stood in a more secluded wing of the gallery where the crowd had thinned. I spotted him across the space. His back was to me, dressed in a tailored dark gray suit that fit too perfectly to be anything but custom. His frame was lean and strong, his posture relaxed, hands tucked in his pockets as he studied a painting. He wasn’t just looking. He was dissecting it.
My attention moved to the guards. Two of them. Strategically placed in opposite corners of the room, trying not to look like security. They blended in well enough with the other patrons, but their eyes told the truth. Constantly scanning.
I inhaled and adjusted the strap of my dress. I ran my hands over my curves, making sure everything looked in place. My cue had come.
Each step felt burdened, as if what I was about to do had sunk deep into my limbs.
The rhythm of my heels against the marble echoed faintly. I moved closer, slipping into his orbit. I was near enough now for him to catch the light scent of my perfume, floral, soft, meant to linger without announcing itself.
I stopped beside him, eyes landing on the painting he was analyzing. It was abstract, wild with motion. Crimson slashed across the canvas, tangled with violent blues and fractured gold. The brushwork oscillated between jagged bursts and smooth sweeps, an unsettling mix of control and chaos.
I spoke, keeping my voice soft and level. Close enough to feel intimate, just loud enough to be heard.
“The intensity of the strokes is remarkable,” I said. “The way the colors collide feels almost violent, yet there’s a strange harmony in the chaos.”
He didn’t respond. Not verbally. But I felt it. His attention was on me now as much as the art. I let the silence stretch a second longer, then continued, my tone calm, analytical. “It’s as if the artist was fighting an inner battle. Conflict and catharsis, all bleeding onto the canvas. The jagged strokes speak of anger or defiance, but the way the hues blend reveals a deep vulnerability… like they couldn’t commit to full destruction.”
I leaned in just slightly, examining the layers of the painting, voice dropping.
“It’s the tension that makes it work. The pull between restraint and abandon. It feels… raw.”
The silence settled again, delicate but dense.
Then I allowed a smirk to touch my lips.
“Or maybe they just threw paint at the canvas after a bad day and decided to call it art.”
That broke it. He turned toward me, finally.
His eyes met mine.
Heat flashed between us. The force of his gaze hit harder than I expected.
My breath caught, not out of fear but from the pressure of it. He was already trying to read me.
I knew that look. He was hunting for the truth inside my performance.
I didn’t flinch.
Even when my pulse started to climb beneath my skin, I held my ground.
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The gallery around us faded. It was just him. Just me.
Then I stepped back, breaking the moment on my terms.
I turned without hesitation and walked away, slipping into the flow of bodies beyond the archway. My retreat was smooth.
Behind me, I felt his gaze linger, and so did the eyes of his guards.
I didn’t need to look back to know he was still watching the space I had just walked away from.
Back in the main gallery, I finally exhaled. The encounter had gone as planned. I had said what
I needed to. Played the part.
But the crackle between us wasn’t part of the plan.
And I felt it. Still pulsing through me.
This was only the beginning. One step into a game layered with risk, manipulation, and consequences I wasn’t sure I fully understood.
But I had just stepped onto the board.
And Axel Voss had noticed.
Author Bio:
Frances Paul is an author of emotionally charged, high-stakes fiction that captivates readers with its mix of psychological suspense, romance, and intricate plotting. Her work explores the fine line between love and survival, delving into themes of resilience, sacrifice, and the secrets we keep.
She is the author of Sea of Scars, a moving story of loss and redemption, and The Black Rose, a gripping psychological thriller that draws readers into a world where trust is dangerous and every choice carries lasting consequences.
With a distinctive voice and a cinematic style, Frances creates unforgettable characters and layered narratives that linger long after the final page. Her passion for storytelling comes from a lifelong fascination with the human heart and its capacity to endure even in the darkest of circumstances.
Descendants of the Big House C. Vonzale Lewis
(A Horde of Dead Poets)
Publication date: October 14th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Fantasy, Mystery
Beatrice Monroe is still getting used to the knowledge that she was born a champion for Good and Evil. She spends her days combing through her great grandmother’s journals trying to find answers to what this newfound ability means for her as a member of law enforcement.
When a woman walks into her precinct claiming her aunt was murdered, Beatrice discovers a link between their families that may just have the answers she needs. But those answers are not easy to find. Because this mystery’s roots are buried in the past with five young girls and what they gave birth to…in The Big House.
Descendants of the Big House is a standalone installment in A Horde of Dead Poets collection featuring seven authors and their stories inspired by famous literary poems. If you often find yourself steering toward a dark, mysterious, isolated location; if family curses haunt you and unreliable narrators keep you in suspense, you won’t want to miss a single volume in this gripping collection.
Perfect for fans of T. Kingfisher, Simone St. James, Stephen King, and Shirley Jackson.
“I think somebody did something,” Mr. Taylor announced suddenly, voice raised. “My wife, my children. Not right. Not right at all.” He started crying. “I can’t convince anybody to listen to me.”
I got up and kneeled by his chair. “I’m listening, Mr. Elijah.” It didn’t dawn on me that I might have overstepped. The pain in his plea just pulled at me. I understood the feeling of being lost so well, growing up in a home filled with abuse and no one listening to my own cries for help.
He looked down at me. “I appreciate that. You find ’em. You find the one that took my Mary. She was the only woman I ever loved. And our children. Godsend. No matter what that man told her at the crossroads.”
“What man?” I asked, my blood running cold. Of course, I knew what man he was referring to, but I didn’t dare say it out loud.
He flapped his hand in the air again.
I looked at Gautier and dipped my head toward my bag. I didn’t want to upset him further, but I needed to confirm what I already suspected. Mary had met Papa Sin at the crossroads.
Gautier pulled out the book Odette gave us, still in an evidence bag, and came over and gave it to me. I pulled it out and Mr. Taylor gasped.
“Get that evil book out of my house!” He tried to get to his feet and ended up falling back in the chair. I straightened and, after thrusting the book at Gautier, helped Mr. Elijah right himself.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Cherie asked, rushing over. “What evil?” She looked at the book. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but it’s upsetting my daddy.”
“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. But your sister Natalie sent this book to Odette along with a letter claiming she was going to…” I looked down at Mr. Taylor. His eyes were wild.
“She swore she’d gotten rid of that book. She swore.” He let out a sob. “That man told her she’d birth evil. That twins were broken.” He caved in on himself, chest heaving as he cried.
“I better take him to his room,” Cherie said, her face filled with concern.
Gautier got up and helped her take him in the back. I stood there berating myself for upsetting him. I shouldn’t have asked about the book. But I had to get answers, right?
Author Bio:
Carla Vonzale Lewis likes her martini’s shaken…never stirred. Though she was born in Georgia, please don’t mistake her for a Georgia peach. She’s more like a prickly pear. Speaking of being born, someone asked her recently if she remembered her birth, and all she had to say was, “Yes, I do remember that handsy doctor pulling me out into the cold. Right Bastard!!!”
Despite being born in the South, she grew up in the North. California to be exact. And every once in a great while, she gets to experience all four seasons. But mostly, it’s just heat.
Her debut novel, LINEAGE, was released July 16, 2019 and she fully intends to ride that joy for the rest of her life.
When she’s not concocting her next contemporary fantasy story, she enjoys reading, binge watching shows on Netflix, and trying to convince her husband that getting a dog is a wonderful idea.
Xonarye: Japan S.H.S. Publication date: September 1st 2025 Genres: Adult, Mystery, Young Adult
In the snowy heartlands of Izumo, Japan, Leaf Brodie seeks answers. What begins as a path of discipline and inner reflection under the watchful eye of Master Kenji becomes a deeper journey-one where ancient secrets lie hidden in the folds of tradition and trust can shatter with a single lie.
As Leaf explores sacred shrines and timeless landscapes, a betrayal from within rocks his world. Yuji, once a friend and fellow student, is exposed as a spy for the powerful Reblick syndicate. The destruction he leaves behind is devastating-but the artifact he steals, a sacred belt buckle, is missing one thing: the next clue.
That clue isn’t written on paper or etched in stone-it’s been burned into human skin. On Master Kenji’s back is a mysterious script, unknown even to him, and unlike anything Leaf or Selina have seen before. What they uncover is not just a lost language-it’s a gateway to the forgotten land of Xonarye.
Blending action, cultural discovery, betrayal, and ancient myth, Xonarye: Japan is a powerful continuation of the global adventure.
When the dojo finally came into view, Leaf’s sense of calm and safety was suddenly shattered.
The main gate hung open, crooked on its hinges. Shards of splintered wood lay scattered across the stone pathway. A few windows had been shattered, with broken glass spread all around him . The paper screens of the main hall were torn and flapping loosely in the breeze. It looked like a storm had blown through but there had been no storm. Leaf’s heart pounded in his chest. He quickened his pace, stepping
over the debris, eyes scanning every corner. The courtyard was a mess, the practice weapons strewn about, some cracked in half. The tatami mats were shredded, spilling straw across the floor like scattered autumn leaves.
“Selina?” he called out, his voice sharp against the silence. “Yuji? Kenji?”
Nothing but the breeze whistling through some rocks around the dojo.
The rooms were upturned. Mats tossed aside, scrolls unravelled, some torn. Kenji’s study , usually immaculate , was in chaos. Books were thrown from their shelves, papers were scattered, and ink was spilled like blood across the floor. Kenji’s prized calligraphy scrolls hung lopsided, some sliced through as if by a blade. The room smelled of old ink and cold air, carrying a whisper of ash as if something had been burned. Leaf’s mind raced. Who would do this? Why?
He moved quickly through each room, heart hammering. No one. No sign of life. He reached the small back garden where the snow had settled undisturbed.
Suddenly, footsteps crunched behind him. Leaf spun, fists clenched. Selina stepped out from the shadows, her eyes sharp, surveying the damage.
“What happened?” she asked, voice low and controlled.
Leaf shook his head, the words tangled in his throat.
Author Bio:
Scott Shepherd is an emerging Australian author with a passion for adventure, storytelling, and the lure of lost lands. Hailing from Naracoorte, South Australia, Scott self-published his first novel in 2020, introducing readers to the daring world of Xonarye. Since then, he has written three books in the Xonarye series, bringing his vivid imagination to life through tales set in exotic locations steeped in mystery and culture.
In 2025, Scott re-released a refined edition of his debut novel, Xonarye: Australia, followed by the second instalment, Xonarye: Cuba, with the third book, Xonarye: Japan, set for release later the same year.
A part-time novelist, full-time family man, and self-described “regular guy,” Scott continues to write from his hometown, where he balances storytelling with hiking, fatherhood, and shared adventures with his partner. Whether at his desk or exploring the outdoors, Scott is always chasing the next great journey—on the page or beyond.
