Eva is Waiting Romola Farr Publication date: February 14th 2025 Genres: Adult, Historical, Thriller
Following the death of her mother, Lily is sent to a remote girls’ boarding school, tearing her away from all the excitement of London in the Swingin’ Sixties. Bereft, she develops a relationship with Rainer, the husband of Sylvia, the headmistress.
One day, Bella, the school Collie, goes missing whilst playing on the shore below sheer cliffs. Despite a rising tide, Lily is determined to find the beautiful dog and discovers her trapped between rocks in a cave. Deepening water swirls around them as her fingertips dig into the sand and touch the smooth surface of what she believes to be an animal skull. From that moment on, she is haunted by a young girl pleading for help.
Lily speaks to her headmistress and learns that eleven years previously a pupil went missing. Eva was a refugee from Hungary, and it was assumed by the police that she had run away.
Forced to stay on at school during the Christmas holiday, Lily is caught between those who know what really happened and wish to silence her, and her determination to end Eva’s wait for justice.
‘Don’t you have a heater?’ Lily was lying naked on a worn chaise longue with a gossamer thin veil artistically draped over her.
‘Heat burns out creativity.’ Rainer was sitting on a stool with a large pad on his lap, drawing Lily with a stub of pencil.
‘Am I to freeze my nether regions just for a sketch? I thought I deserved oils.’
‘First, liebling, I make sure I have all the correct proportions in pencil before I commence with charcoal, unless you want to have große Brüste und fette Oberschenkel.’
‘I think I’ve been inoculated against that!’
‘You are very funny.’
‘My mother told me I have a queer sense of humour.’
Rainer got up from the stool and placed the pad and pencil on the seat. He looked at Lily and she felt a surge. Since that amazing night, she had acted upon many urges alone in her room, then had knelt by her bed to pray for forgiveness. In her former school, Miss Rooney had made it clear that self-gratification was against the teachings of Christ.
‘As for adultery and fornication,’ Miss Rooney had said, ‘they are an abomination and will send you straight to hell.’ She had slammed the palm of her hand down on her thigh as she paced about and eyed the young girls seated before her. Young girls who had yet to experience their first period and were still reading books by Enid Blyton.
Well, Lily thought, hell it shall be because she was hooked on the greatest drug of all and despite her belief in God, she would rather face His wrath than become a dried-up old prune like Miss Rooney.
Rainer knelt in front of her, and she felt his warm tobacco breath… so intoxicating. ‘You are beautiful,’ he said.
‘Make love to me,’ she whispered.
‘An artist sleeping with his model is a cliché, is it not?’
‘Call it the Spark effect.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Muriel Spark… she wrote The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. It’s a novella set in a girls’ school. If they ever make it into a film, I want to play Sandy.’
‘Sandy?’
‘She’s the smartest girl in the Brodie set and has an affair with the art master.’
‘Who is very handsome, no doubt.’
‘Of course. Unfortunately, Sandy ends their affair and becomes a Roman Catholic nun.’
He chuckled. ‘Is that your destiny?’
She shrugged. ‘Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be.’ She let the veil slip, exposing a youthful breast. ‘My fate is in your hands.’
He repositioned the veil and stepped back.
She forced a smile. ‘So, it’s a nunnery for me then?’
He looked at her. ‘I cannot imagine loving anyone more than I do you.’
‘What about Sylvia?’
‘She saved my life and has given me a future out of reach of the Russian bear.’
Lily wrapped the gauze tightly around her and stood. ‘I’d better go.’
‘Please stay. I owe Sylvia, but I want you.’ He pushed her gently down onto the chaise longue and knelt before her.
Author Bio:
Romola Farr first trod the boards on the West End stage aged sixteen and continued to work for the next eighteen years in theatre, TV and film – and as a photographic model. A trip to Hollywood led to the sale of her first screenplay and a successful change of direction as a screenwriter and playwright. Bridge To Eternity was her debut novel, and Breaking through the Shadows and Where the Water Flows are standalone sequels. All are set in the fictional town of Hawksmead.
Lost and Stolen Gods Debbie Cassidy (Labyrinth of Gods, #1) Publication date: April 4th 2025 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
Gods aren’t born, they’re made.
I should have died the same night that a monster murdered my grandmother, but I was saved, stolen from my world, and thrown into a realm ravaged by an endless war between ancient gods called Asura.
I’m told that I’m a demigod, that there are others like me, brought to this world to replenish their dwindling numbers. They want us to prove we’re worthy of ascension and fight alongside them.
But I don’t give a damn about their war. All I want is vengeance on the monster that killed my only family. A monster from their world. And if the only way to kill it is to become a god, then I’m all in.
But the path of ascension is paved with dangerous tests, culminating in a lethal trial called the labyrinth of gods.
Only an ancient fire elemental has the power to help me survive it.
His wicked mouth sets my pulse racing, and his dark threats turn my blood to ice. Charismatic and terrifying, he attracts and repels me in equal measure, and I have no doubt he’d snap my neck in a heartbeat if freed from the magical bonds that compel him to aid me.
He hopes to be my undoing, and if I’m not careful I may not make it to the labyrinth alive.
To claim the vengeance that I desire I’ll need to protect my body and shield my mind, but most of all I’ll need to guard my heart.
Enter an Otherworldly realm filled with gods, monsters, and mystical beings. Opposites attract and love and conflict collide, in this forced proximity romance.
Debbie Cassidy lives in England, Bedfordshire, with her three kids and very supportive husband. Coffee and chocolate biscuits are her writing fuels of choice, and she is still working on getting that perfect tower of solitude built in her back garden. Obsessed with building new worlds and reading about them, she spends her spare time daydreaming and conversing with the characters in her head – in a totally non psychotic way of course. She writes Urban Fantasy, Fantasy and Reverse Harem Fantasy. All her books contain plenty of action, romance and twisty plots.
They trained her to be a weapon. Now, she’s turning the blade on them.Eirianwen was Poseidon’s crowning achievement—until she walked away from everything. She’s evaded them for years, carving out a life in the shadows, leaving behind the bloodstained world they forced her into. Now, the past she’s been running from has finally caught up. A storm-wracked night. A breach in her sanctuary. Someone is watching. Someone is waiting. And this time, they don’t just want her dead—they want her to doubt herself. They want the world to believe she’s lost her mind.
They’ve been watching her. Manipulating her. Preparing for her downfall.
Now, the elite organization that built her is coming to collect. Not to kill—to control. They don’t need to break her. They just need to make sure no one believes her when she starts screaming.They want her to understand that her escape, her freedom, was all an illusion.
Erased. Discredited. Untouchable.
But Eirianwen has spent her whole life surviving. And when the walls start closing in, she doesn’t run. She hunts.
Poseidon wants her desperate. Unraveling. Helpless.
They’re about to learn just how dangerous she can be.
Eirianwen ripped out the earpiece and slammed it onto the desk. Panic swirled at the edges of her mind, but she forced it down. Now wasn’t the time. She grabbed a larger bag from under the desk, slung it over her shoulder, and stormed out. In the closet, she set the bag aside, pressing a hidden panel on the side of her bed. A drawer slid open, revealing her arsenal. Her hands shook as she armed herself, snapping a knife into its sheath and loading a handgun with quick, practiced movements. Now, to find them. Moving swiftly, she ran through the house, slipping out the back door and straight into the storm-charged air. Sullivan’s workshop. If she was going to do this right, she’d need a shovel. She yanked open the heavy wooden door, eyes darting over the mess inside.Where the fuck is it? Why is this place always such a goddamn disaster?
A glint of metal under the workbench caught her eye. She crouched, snatched up a spade, and bolted back outside. The rain had started in earnest, cold drops slicing through the thick humidity. She sprinted to where the trackers last pinged, her boots sinking slightly into the softening earth, almost tripping thanks to a low spot. Looking back at the spot, it was all wrong. She knew something was buried there.
Gripping the shovel tightly, she drove it into the ground. The soil gave easily…far too easily. The clay should have been a nightmare to dig through. Someone had already done the work for her. Within moments, her blade hit something solid, and dread curled in her stomach. She dropped to her knees, clawing at the loose earth with bare hands until the objects were free. Her breath hitched. Six trackers. All of them. Cold, useless, and buried like a mockery of her own paranoia. Eirianwen sat back on her heels, mud caking her fingers as she stared at the pile in her hands. Someone knew.
Her cheeks burned hot, but the rest of her body felt frozen. Tears welled, spilling silently down her face as the questions flooded in. Why? Why would Sullivan do this? Had he done this? He wouldn’t put the kids in danger—would he? Where were they? How long had he planned this? Her stomach twisted. Then, her phone buzzed—a single notification. Hands trembling, she wiped her palms on her pants and yanked it from her pocket. Wi-Fi restored—a new alert. Someone had just crossed the perimeter.
“It better be Sullivan and the kids.”
Eirianwen exhaled sharply, swiping at the sweat and tears streaking her face. Standing, she brushed the dirt from her clothes as best she could, shoving the useless trackers deep into her pocket. She locked her phone and steadied herself. If the kids were with Sullivan, she needed to stay calm. Normal. They couldn’t see the weapons strapped under her clothing. At least the incoming storm gave her an excuse to rush them inside. She’d get them safe first—then she’d deal with Sullivan. She turned toward the tree line, heart pounding in her throat. The property was massive, and she had built the house at its farthest edge. Finally, headlights cut through the gloom. A vehicle emerged. Not Sullivan’s truck. A cold, electric jolt shot down her spine. Every instinct screamed at her.
No one came out here. No one. She had made sure of it. For years, she had meticulously crafted the illusion of a perfectly ordinary life. She knew everyone in town—just enough to avoid suspicion, but never enough to invite curiosity. A delicate balance of friendly but distant. She never gave anyone a reason to visit. She didn’t even use their real address! She picked up all of their mail and deliveries in town. So who the hell thought they had the right to pull up to her house? The SUV slowed to a stop, tires crunching against the gravel. The doors swung open in near unison, and two men stepped out. Sheriff Ford. Deputy Pines. Ford adjusted his jacket, his gaze steady, unreadable. Pines lingered a step behind, eyes sharp, scanning. Ford closed the gap between them and gave Eirianwen a curt nod.
Author Bio:
Reign Reeves Pearson is a writer, storyteller, and chaos enthusiast based in Houston, where she lives with her husband, four kids, and three cats who may or may not be plotting world domination. She thrives on Kopiko, rainy days, and an endless love for Final Fantasy VII and Dungeons & Dragons.
She’s been writing for as long as she can remember. But in 2019, a health scare forced her to take a hard look at her life, and the answer was clear: writing wasn’t just something she did. It was what she was meant to do.
Her debut novel and series, Poseidon’s Daughters: Reckoning, is her first and only planned adventure into sci-fi. Going forward, expect Southern Gothic chills, cosmic nightmares, and nostalgic ‘90s horror—all infused with her signature mix of heart, humor, and a touch of the macabre.
When she’s not writing, she’s probably dreaming up elaborate D&D campaigns, getting emotionally wrecked by Final Fantasy VII (again), or staring dramatically out a window while it rains.
Forever We Dream Mark Workman Publication date: March 19th 2025 Genres: Coming of Age, Young Adult
Three voices, one dream, and a chance to uncover the truth.
It’s 1978, and the glittering disco craze is sweeping across America. Identical conjoined triplets Elliana, Bellamona, and Gabriella have one shared dream: finding their mother, who vanished without a trace years ago. Singing is their only solace, and now they have a chance to take that passion to the national stage.
When they’re invited to compete in Your Shooting Star, a famous music competition, the teenage sisters see it as their chance to reunite with the woman they can’t remember but long to know. But stepping into the spotlight means facing their greatest fears. As the underdogs fight to stay in the contest, they must brave ruthless rival Twyla-Violet, a former child model determined to claim the coveted title at any cost.
While the four-round competition heats up, secrets, lies, and conspiracies threaten to tear their world apart. Can the triplets stand strong and use the power of television to reconnect with their past? Or will their dream shatter under the pressure of fame?
Carla gawked at the triplets, shocked by their wrecked makeup. “What have you done?”
Katherine stepped over to them. “Carla, I’ll take care of the girls.” She took in their disturbed faces. “Did Twyla-Violet do something to you again?”
Mona sniffed back her tears. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Sixty seconds,” Carla announced behind them.
Katherine pulled the girls around her. “Don’t let that bully beat you. There’s no time to fix your makeup. You must turn this crisis into a tactical advantage. I want you to think of the one thing you want more than anything else and imagine how you’d feel if you couldn’t have it.”
Papilio stared up at her, six amber irises adrift in the pain-stained red sclera of their eyes.
“That’s how we feel now,” Mona muttered as another black tear dripped from her chin and soiled more of their white blouse.
“So put those painful emotions into every word you sing and note you play. Understand, Papilio?”
Appearing almost catatonic, the triplets nodded slowly.
Carla pointed at the stage. “Ten seconds!”
Gently, Katherine brushed a black tear from Mona’s soft jawline with the back of her fingers. “And don’t forget to sing the lyrics from a girl’s perspective. Make them personal.” She stepped back and gestured for Papilio to go.
“Thanks for everything,” Mona said as if it would be the last time they ever saw the coach they had come to admire.
An aching feeling in the pit of Mona’s stomach told her something awful was about to happen. She sensed the judges sharpening their axes, anticipating the metallic taste of blood, ready to exact their punishment on Papilio for being naive enough to think three homely zeros were good enough to become America’s Teen Shooting Star. Their wacko mother didn’t even want them—why would anyone else?
As the dimmed lights increased in intensity, Papilio joined hands, put their right feet forward, and marched onstage while being careful not to trip in their tall platform heels. Halfway there, Gabby lost her concentration. Her ankle twisted sideways, and she nearly fell before Mona, anchored by Ellie, pulled Gabby’s arm and helped her recover, preventing an embarrassing human avalanche.
Despite the triplets’ messy state, the crowd behind Twyla-Violet’s cheering section applauded loudly. The Empress fan club, still decked out in violet band T-shirts, filled the front row as if they were permanently cemented to the seats. Their jaws dropped when they saw Papilio’s sloppy makeup and ruined costume. The hecklers were so shocked by their disheveled appearance, they forgot to snicker.
Papilio’s die-hard fan from their school’s math club stood in the middle of the row behind the jeerers. She held a sign that read Go Papilio! Her metal braces glinted as she jumped up and down, black pigtails bouncing, cheering for the band. Two other calculators with her screamed even louder.
Papiliomania was becoming contagious.
Author Bio:
Mark Workman toured the world as a road manager and lighting designer with many famous rock bands for 33 years. After leaving the music business in 2015, he worked at a major drug and alcohol treatment center in Malibu, California, for four years, where he earned his certification as a drug and alcohol counselor. Mark now spends his time reading, writing, and traveling. He grew up in Petersburg, Virginia, has lived in Greater Los Angeles for most of his adult life, and currently resides in the Las Vegas area. His estrangement from his late father since the age of six, along with his love for the music of the Bee Gees and 70s nostalgia, greatly inspired his debut novel, Forever We Dream.
Sword of the Fallen G.J. Ogden (Hearts of Dragons, #1) Publication date: March 20th 2025 Genres: Adult, Fantasy
– From Kindle Storyteller Award Winner G J Ogden – A dragon’s heart has the power to forge kingdoms – or shatter them.
Sir Torin Cadwell, Knight-Captain of the Watch and the tyrant king’s illegitimate son, has spent his life torn between loyalty to his father and the pull of destiny. For generations, his bloodline has been cursed by a bitter feud with Kyhrax, the Flame of Zarag-Gul – the most feared dragon in Westskyr.
The city of Dun Morlaig survives only because of the Breath – a magical barrier fueled by the crystallized heart of Astreya, the Great Mother dragon. Once a benevolent guardian, Astreya was slain by Torin’s ancestor, leaving Kyhrax consumed by grief and burning for revenge.
When Astreya’s Lament – the sword that holds the Great Mother’s heart – is stolen, the Breath falters. Chaos erupts as Koblyn monsters and dragon-worshiping cultists lay siege to the city, and Kyhrax prepares to unleash his long-awaited vengeance.
Defying the king’s command, Torin allies with Ruxandra Elyr, a ranger of the Order of the Green Bow, to recover the stolen sword. But Kyhrax’s wrath will not stop at Dun Morlaig. If the Flame of Zarag-Gul is not stopped, his fury will consume all seven realms and usher in the age of dragons.
Sword of the Fallen is the gripping first book in the Hearts of Dragons epic fantasy trilogy by Kindle Storyteller Award Winner G J Ogden. Dive into this thrilling adventure today!
“Long has it been since I tasted the reek of mortal flesh in these caves…”
The voice was sensuous, like a troubadour, and eloquent like a scholar, yet Kyhrax’s words shook Selene’s chest with the immensity of a thunderstorm. Opposite, from inside the dark recess of the mountain, a shape
emerged. Talons like swords gripped and splintered the rock, sending shards of grey-black stone tumbling into the magma below. Selene drew back, her burning eyes pressed wide, but she was frozen in fear and awe. Next, a diamond-shaped head emerged, followed by a long, elegant neck. In moments, the dragon’s full form—one hundred and eighty feet from snout to tail—had been hauled from the opening by powerful limbs the breadth of great oaks.
Selene remained on her knees, head bowed, body shaking with terror and reverence, dread and admiration.
She had thought herself ready to face Kyhrax, an audience ordained in magical visions, yet all the force of her will could not compel her to meet the dragon’s incandescent gaze.
“Why disturb my solitude, mortal?” Kyhrax asked as the dragon clawed its way across the cavern walls to within striking distance of the pilgrim who had invaded his lair. “There are easier ways to die.”
The dragon’s wings expanded, blotting out the light from below and casting the cavern into near-darkness. The smell of sulfur was suddenly gone, and instead the air around Kyhrax crackled with a sharp, biting tang. It was like the sky before a storm, heavy with the promise of lightning. Selene felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and her entire body prickled as if she had been imbued with a sliver of the dragon’s magical essence.
Then Kyhrax beat his wings, knocking Selene to the ground.
“Speak, woman, lest I burn you to ash!”
The cavern shook violently as Kyhrax roared his demand. His breath, suffocating and thick with outrage, whirled around the vast chamber, forcing Selene to grip the hot stone ledge as if she were suspended from it, clinging to it for life. It was all she could do to avoid being swept up in the vortex and cast into the pit of fire. Then, the dragon’s stifling breath abated, and steadily Selene lifted her chin. The physical exertion needed to move her exhausted body paled compared to the struggle of gazing upon the Flame of Zarag-Gul.
“Great Kyhrax, I pledge myself to your cause,” Selene said, her voice little more than a whimper. She rocked back to sit on her heels, then from inside her robes, she lifted the pendant hung from the steel chain around her neck. “Through this crystal heart, I have dreamed of a world where dragons, not mortal kings and queens, rule the seven realms.”
Kyhrax narrowed his orange eyes and drew his long neck closer, peering at the crystal in the young woman’s hand. He extended a single talon, as long as Selene’s body. Then, with a deftness and delicacy belying his colossal size, the dragon hooked the chain and pulled the pendant toward him.
“These dreams… I have seen them,” the dragon replied, its rumbling voice suddenly softer. “Yes… I remember you now, Selene Morgrave, discharged scholar of the Pillar of Commerce.”
Kyhrax turned his head and peered at Selene through his other eye. Selene did not move a muscle. She dared not.
“You pledge yourself without reservation, stealer of relics and dreams,” Kyhrax added. “But this is not the crystalline heart that I seek.”
Author Bio:
G J Ogden is a proud recipient of the Kindle Storyteller Award and has written over 50 books that have garnered over 15,000 5-star ratings on Amazon and Goodreads.
He is a physics graduate and a former technology journalist with a lifelong love of anything nerdy. From Firefly to Game of Thrones and everything in between, SFF is his bag. Conan! What is best in life?
On the rare occasions he’s not writing, G J Ogden is usually getting whooped in games of Warhammer 40K by his son. Unless he’s playing Adepta Sororitas, then he wins.
Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots: A Small Town Romance Anthology Annie Carlisle, C.A. Miconi, Delta James, Irene Lawless (Pelican Point, #1) Publication date: March 14th 2025 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Welcome to Celtic Knot Winery, where the lush vineyards are ripe with secrets, and love is as rich and complex as the finest vintage.
In Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots, four intertwined romance stories unfold against the enchanting backdrop of rolling hills and grapevines. Each tale weaves its own unique tapestry of passion, betrayal, and heartwarming redemption, proving that amidst the beauty of the vineyard, anything is possible.
Pour a glass and lose yourself in Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots, where every story uncorks a new journey of the heart. Amidst secrets and seduction, these tales remind us that love is the most intoxicating wine of all.
Included in the anthology:
Love’s Hidden Knot by Annie Carlisle
Love Undercover by Irene Lawless
Love Me, Love Me Knot by CA Miconi
Love’s Twisted Knot by Delta James
👉 Enemies to Lovers
👉 Billionaire
👉 Alphahole
👉 Grumpy/Sunshine
👉 Second Chance
👉 One Night Stand
👉 Love Against All Odds
“He’s here.” Brennen says in a panic, his face draining of color. “I’ll go greet him.”
“That’s my cue to leave.” Sophie waves to us as she leaves through the fermentation room door.
“Wait…” I frown up at Brennen. “Shouldn’t Sophie be here for this? She is the winemaker after all.”
Brennen scoffs. “No. Sophia refuses to be part of this because she didn’t make the wine. I think her exact words were that she wouldn’t serve this swill to pigs.”
I roll my eyes – that sounds exactly like Sophie. The girl is great and all, but she is the epitome of an elitist wine snob. But that is why we hired her.
As the actual winery owner, Brennen has taken the reins of our family business and spent years trying to fix what our father did to our family name, not to mention creating a rift between my two brothers with me playing referee.
As the attorney for both, I’m able to keep one business separate from the other — Brennen’s winery and Ryan’s conglomerate. If Brennen ever found out that I was working for Ryan too, he’d disown me just like he has Ryan. Fortunately, he doesn’t know. Thank god for client confidentiality laws.
“He’s been crazy all morning,” Isabella says under her breath.
We can hear as Brennen and the critic enter the front doors, “Here we go.” I say out loud.
I stand beside Brennen, offering a professional smile as the critic approaches. But the moment Mr. Dawson looks up, his eyes meet mine, and the color drains from my face.
No. It can’t be.
No.
No.
No.
His mouth opens in shock, too, his gaze flicking over me as if trying to process what he’s seeing. My heart stutters in my chest, my pulse thundering in my ears.
It’s him.
The man from last night. The one I left sleeping in that hotel room this morning. The man whose name I never got because we agreed there was no reason for names. But I know every inch of his body. And he knows mine.
Mr. Dawson—the world-renowned wine critic Miles Dawson—is my one-night stand.
Chasing Shadows Cat Jameson (The Wild Rose Press) Publication date: March 3rd 2025 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense
Annie O’Toole is St. Louis Public Defender, passionate about fighting for the underdog and determined to prove herself as the badass trial lawyer she knows she can be. Getting assigned to defend the kid charged with shooting billionaire businessman, Michael Grayson, is a big step up for her career. At least until the hot guy she seduced at the Justice for All Ball shows up at her office in response to her deposition subpoena. Turns out the sexy stranger who introduced himself only as ‘Mick’, the guy she’s been fantasizing about since slipping away while he slept — is none other than the billionaire himself, Michael Grayson.
She’s horrified. He’s furious. He thinks she set him up. She thinks he’s an arrogant ass in a Savile Row suit. Sparks, intrigue, and bullets fly in a mix of swoon and suspense as the two battle each other, the bad guys, and an off-limits attraction neither can ignore. When the evidence leads back into Michael’s inner corporate circle, the two are plunged into a world of international intrigue, corporate espionage, and murder — with a side dish of unresolved family drama as Annie is forced to turn to the only expert in corporate intrigue she knows, her own uber-wealthy, estranged grandmother. Now all she has to do is solve the case, escape her grandmother’s plans to take over her life (again), and save her client, her career, and the man whose lifestyle she despises . . . and whose touch she can’t forget.
Michael wouldn’t have been surprised to see actual sparks flashing from her fingertips, given the effect of her touch on his skin. He pulled her against him, his hands sliding down over her hips to cup her ass, drinking in the feel and smell of her. But without her heels, she barely reached the middle of his chest. He grabbed her hand and led her to the bed.
“Climb up,” he ordered. “I want you at eye level.”
She laughed. “I’m not that short.”
He wrapped a fist in her tousled curls and pulled her to him. Bending his mouth to her ear, he sunk his teeth into her earlobe. She jumped.
“Get on the damn bed,” he whispered into her ear.
She scrambled onto the bed.
“Much better,” he murmured.
He ran his hands up her thighs until his fingers brushed the tiny swath of lace beneath the shimmering fabric of her dress. She inhaled sharply as he slid his fingers between the lace and the silk of her skin. He loved the way her breath hitched at his touch. He slid the lace slowly down her legs.
“I think you just stole my turn,” she breathed, her palms on his shoulders as she stepped out of the thong.
“Royal prerogative. The prince makes the rules— and can change them.” He let the lace fall to the floor and ran his fingers lightly back up her legs, enjoying the subtle shifting of her body in response to his touch.
“Don’t princesses get to make rules too?” she murmured, her eyes closed. “Or am I Cin—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips, cutting her off mid-syllable. “Sin is exactly what you are…temptation incarnate.”
Her lips curved. “My, you do credit me with extraordinary powers.”
He brushed his lips beneath her earlobe. “How would you feel about turning those extraordinary powers over to me for the night?”
She opened her eyes. It appeared to take a bit of an effort. “Hmm?”
“Are you amenable to being my royal subject for the night?”
She stilled. A beat of silence stretched between them.
“Depends on what you mean. Are we talking ‘safe word’ kind of subject?” she finally asked.
He smiled. “No safe word required.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that because you are the serial killer I suspected and I’m going to die no matter what?”
He clicked his tongue. “Damn. Shouldn’t have used my credit card to pay for this room. What was I thinking?” His hands moved to her waist, and he kissed the hollow of her neck. “Looks like I’ll have to let you survive the night after all.” He traced a slow finger down to where her cleavage disappeared in the fabric of her dress. She shivered. His pulse kicked up a beat.
“So?” he asked again.
She shot him a half-apologetic look. “I’m not a very compliant person.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Ah, but that’s what makes it interesting. Stepping out of your comfort zone heightens the experience.” His fingertip slowly circled first one nipple, then the other, through her dress.
Her eyes fluttered closed. “You make it really hard to think straight.”
He stepped back, lifting his hands up in the air. “Far be it from me to confuse the decision-making process. Take all the time you need.”
She shot him an exasperated look, then bit her lower lip, considering him. Finally, a half-smile flitted across those lips. “What the hell—so long as no safe words are required—long live the prince.”
His cock saluted her decision. Affecting a calm neither he nor his anatomy felt, he moved away from her and sat in the chair by the window. Crossing one ankle over his knee, he took his sweet time perusing her, his gaze raking her body. She fidgeted.
“Stand still,” he ordered.
She froze.
He let the tension build for a long minute, then said. “Take off your dress. Slowly.”
Author Bio:
Cat Jameson is a writer of contemporary romance novels packed with equal parts suspense, snark, and spice. A native Missourian, she moved to St. Louis to attend law school, sure only that she didn’t want to practice criminal law or be a trial lawyer. So of course, she became a career criminal defense lawyer who spent decades teaching trial techniques to other criminal lawyers around the country. (“We make plans. The gods laugh.”)
Cat spent most of her legal career in St. Louis and the city features prominently in her books, as does her experience in criminal law. Today, she resides in Columbia, Missouri — ‘the middle of the middle of flyover country’ — where she is deep into her second act as co-owner of a metaphysical bookstore.
When not writing, shopkeeping, or playing with grandkids, Jameson is most likely to be road-tripping with her best friend and business partner in a ten-year-old van named Woo — stopping at every bookstore and thrift shop along the way, loading up on things they do not need and have no room for.
Immortal Dark Shermon Kodi Publication date: March 10th 2025 Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
The shadows awaken as darkness falls. And these shadows have fangs.
Seventeen-year-old Bexis has survived the frozen streets of Coppejj by trusting no one but herself. With her shadow magic, she’s scraped by as a freelance thief, working for local gang lords and politicians.
But when a routine heist goes horribly wrong, Bexis is branded with ancient magic, making her the target of a bloodthirsty spirit.
Desperate for answers, she turns to an eccentric demon hunter. Together, they uncover a deadly plot by a sinister cabal, threatening to plunge the world into eternal night. As Bexis confronts her haunted past, she faces a grim choice: Embrace the shadows within, or lose everything she holds dear.
To destroy the darkness, she must first become it.
Enter the room unseen. Wait for Ajjan to distract the mark—a foreign dignitary from the south. Then acquire her handbag and deliver it to the other side of town.
No blood. No trace.
My employer was very specific about that last bit. It’s common protocol in my line of work, along with an understanding that pay will be docked by half if I’m spotted. If there’s blood, I might not get paid at all. My mark must never know I was here. Personally, I thought I’d outgrown grabbing purses in the night. But it’s an easy job, and I can use the money.
The red night moon casts the world in crimson light as I pull myself onto the third-story balcony of a slummy brothel in the west end. The window is webbed with ice, obscuring my view inside—I can only make out pale blotches of yellow light. There doesn’t seem to be any movement, but I can’t be sure the room is empty. I just have to hope the Blackbones did their job and set everything up.
I give the windowpane a shove, but it doesn’t budge. Damn. The thing hasn’t been opened in months, and it’s frozen shut. For a common thief, a frozen window stymies a job. But I’m no common thief.
I take out my trapper tone pipe, a metal cylinder with a single reed, tuned to one specific note. The reflective surface catches light from the lanterns below, illuminating my name inscribed along the side in big bold letters:BEXIS. It was a gift from my deadbeat father right before he abandoned me. It’s the last thing I have from him, and if it weren’t so damn useful, I’d have tossed it years ago.
I bring the pipe to my lips and blow. The note is inaudible, like a dog whistle, too high for the human ear to hear. But the vibration weaves through the air and seeps into my skin, where it sparks like flint on steel, and a sonorous ember catches deep in my chest. Resonance hums through my body. The ambient darkness around me shimmers with feathered lines of silver that only I can see.
A burst of power shudders through me, and I hold it within my realm of focus, like cupping a candle against a sea wind.
This is resonance trapping—the first step in performing harmonic magic. Mine is the harmony of shadow. Sparking the ember is the easy part. Trapping it is more difficult, butholdingit once it’s been trapped? Well, that’s like riding an angry wolverine. If I’m not careful, I might lose control, and people could get hurt. It’s been months since that’s happened, but there’s always a chance the resonance will lash out, sending me into an episode of uncontrollable power.
Resonance quivers through my veins. I reach my hand to the glass, willing the vibration into my fingertips, and the shadows obey. Tendrils of silver swirl across my wrist and through my palm. I touch the windowpane, and the shadows run through it, seeping like oil into the hinges.
The window squeals as ice crumbles around the edges.
I shift my awareness to the space above my head. Resonance purrs in my chest as I weave gossamer strands of silver around me like a cloak. This is my greatest trick. So long as I can hold the resonance and have enough ambient shadow to work with, I can conceal myself from prying eyes. But I can’t maintain it for long; already, I can feel my energy beginning to drain as heaviness settles behind my eyes.
Best be quick now.
I heave the window open and squeeze inside.
Author Bio:
Shermon Kodi is a legally blind author who finds inspiration in the quiet knolls of Chittenden County, Vermont, where the long snowy winters drive one to pair wool socks with moccasin slippers and curl up by the furnace with a pot of chamomile tea and a book about monsters in dark places doing dark things. Through his writing, Shermon seeks to explore the resilience of the human spirit, the tenacity of good people faced with hard times, and the relationships that light us up, make our hearts smile, and carry us through every storm.
When he’s not writing, Shermon spends his time thinking about writing.
He knows this is a problem— although, he contends, it’s a good kind of problem to have. Occasionally, he’ll break from his routines and really let go— sleep in till 7 AM, drink tea instead of coffee, read in the mornings, or plug in the ’07 Strat and reminisce about the days when he dreamed of being a rockstar instead of an author.
He’ll be the first to tell you: “No regrets!”
Life is funny like that.
Shermon is the author of Heart of the Valley and Songs of the Rhor, both available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. Stay connected on TikTok and Instagram for updates on his latest books, behind-the-scenes insights, and creative content.
Brimstone & Blades Maria Alexander Publication date: June 3rd 2025 Genres: Fantasy, Historical, Young Adult
It’s 1689. Sixteen-year-old Julie de Maupin is on the run with her boyfriend, a young swordmaster named Sérannes. They perform sword fights and songs in taverns to survive. But when a diabolical creature kills Sérannes, it also injures Julie in the attack. Plunged into the dangerous world of French magic, Julie needs to return to Paris to find the great magician that can heal her devastating wound so she can avenge Sérannes’s death. On the way, she finds the creature is controlled by a necromantic coven called the Shadow Holders. Defeated during the Affair of the Poisons, they’ve returned but this time with traitors in the royal court to crush Louis XIV and terrorize France. With her found family of magical and moggie misfits, Julie must use her sword, wits, and gender-bending wiles to send the threat back to Hell. But will they be enough? Magic is illegal, and so is dueling. But that won’t stop La Maupin.
Maria Alexander is an Amazon #1 Bestseller of Young Adult Horror. Her short stories and nonfiction essays have appeared in numerous publications and acclaimed anthologies alongside living legends such as David Morrell and Heather Graham.
Her debut novel, MR. WICKER, won the 2014 Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a First Novel. Her first YA novel, SNOWED, won the 2016 Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a Young Adult Novel, and was nominated for the 2017 Anthony Award for Best Children’s/YA Novel.
She lives in Los Angeles with two ungrateful cats, a Jewish Christmas caroler, and a purse called Trog.
Red Ultimatum Edwin D. Fuller, Gary Grossman (The Red Hotel, #4) Publication date: February 25th 2025 Genres: Adult, Thriller
A former U.S. President’s plane is brought down in the Atlantic. Revolutionary forces attack Cairo. The U.S. Secretary of State is kidnapped in Panama. A North Korean ballistic missile submarine tracks toward America’s West Coast. A sleeper cell spy awakens in the halls of Congress. A woman assassin takes aim on the Washington Mall. Behind it all is Russian President Nicolai Gorshkov who has mastered the ability to walk between the raindrops and not get wet. Until… China determines that Gorshkov’s policies are endangering its global initiatives… until Beijing issues Gorshkov a defiant ultimatum… until Dan Reilly, hotel executive/CIA freelancer, and friend of the Secretary of State, reads the moves on the international political chessboard and picks up the pieces. The non-stop action plays out on Air, Land, and Sea. Yet, with so many geo-political threads being tugged simultaneously, will the Russian leader succeed getting another step closer to rebuilding the old Soviet Empire in his image? (https://redhotelseries.com/)
“Yes, and you died! I saw it happen. The explosion from below. The fireball that swept up. Your last look. I’ve relived that moment every day since. Oh my God, Marnie, I was there. I saw it all.”
“And I’m here with you, Dan.” “You’re not. You can’t be.”
“I am and we can be together again.”
She reached out to him. Dan Reilly stepped back and stared. She was wearing the same dress, green blouse, and leather jacket she had worn that day in Stockholm; the day Marnie Babbitt returned to his hotel room seemingly regretful; wishing things were different; wanting to make them so.
“You loved me, Dan,” the brunette said softly. “You can love me again. Tonight. Here in Athens.”
Dan Reilly stopped retreating. Yes, he thought. Here. Athens.
He looked at the surroundings. Nighttime traffic was flowing along Adrianou Street. Horns honked. Couples walked arm-in-arm. Tourists window-shopped. Everything was normal until the woman he had desperately loved, the woman who had betrayed him stepped out of the shadows in front of him and into the light of a street lamp.
Dan Reilly had just concluded a successful business meeting at Kuzina, one of Athens’ most celebrated restaurants that boasted a magnificent view of The Temple of Hephaestus, the Agora, and the Acropolis. He had come to discuss the final terms for his company’s acquisition of a luxury hotel property currently owned by a Greek billionaire. It would take lawyers months to solidify the terms, but atop the restaurant’s Tarazza, with the golden glow of the Acropolis backlighting them, Reilly and the seller toasted to their relationship with a final glass of Ouzo.
It had been a good night for the International President of Kensington Royal Hotel Corporation. As he had walked along the cobblestones on Adrianou, Marnie Babbitt was not on his mind, but suddenly she was there alive and vibrant as ever. Her beauty took his breath away. Her voice was as soft and lilting as the last whispers in his ear.
Or the last lies, he thought.
“No lies, Dan,” she said as if reading his mind. “This time it will be different.”
At first, Reilly had felt immobile. Then he was drawn to her.
She reached out to him and stroked his cheek. Her touch was as present as ever. The light gave her an almost ethereal glow. She looked longingly into his eyes and proved she was alive with a lingering, deep kiss. Then she said, “Is that the kiss of a dead woman?”
Her tongue, her scent, and her breath were just as he remembered.
Just as he missed. So was the quickening of his heartbeat.
He withdrew and looked into her brown eyes. They were so bright and inviting.
“You missed me. I know you did.” She smiled and took a step back into the shadows. “Come with, Dan.”
The sounds of the city faded away. Gone were the car horns and sirens, people talking, dogs barking, car doors slamming, and footsteps on the sidewalk. Everything around him blurred. There was just Marnie and him. He felt his desire for her grow. Then he thought of Yibing Cheng, the woman now in his life.
“But—”
“It’s all right my darling. I know that there’s someone else. But I’m back. You want me.”
More thoughts from his head. How did she know? “You want us to be together again.”
“Marnie, I saw…
“You saw what we wanted you to see.”
She leaned forward and kissed him again. She felt him. He responded. “Now I’m here. To be with you.”
He withdrew.
“Don’t you want that, Dan? Don’t you want me?” “Marnie…”
“Yes.”
“Marnie,” he said again. “Yes, my love.”
“But you’re—”
She suddenly laughed. Her brown eyes went black.
Maybe it was the Ouzo, but all he initially felt was a prick in his stomach. Then he looked down. There was the hand that he had loved caressing. But now it held the black handle of a Russian Kizlyar Spetsnaz Special Forces knife.
He brought his eyes up to hers. She smiled cruelly, waited a moment, and then twisted the 6.5-inch blade and sliced upwards.
Reilly tried to speak. He couldn’t. He felt his legs crumble, but Marnie Babbitt’s grip on the knife kept him on his feet. She twisted again.
“Why?” Reilly silently gurgled.
“Because this is the way it should have ended.”
Marnie’s words confused him. He grabbed her hand with his. Blood soaked them both.
Should have ended?
Reilly tried to pull out the knife, but she was stronger. Life began to leave him.
With a sickly sweet laugh, she repeated, “This is the way it should have ended. You, not me.”
Should…have…ended. The words were familiar. He’d heard them before. Many times before.
“No!” Reilly shouted in full-throated defiance. “This is not how it should end! And…you…are… dead!”
“What?”
“You’re dead,” he shouted. “You’re dead!” “No, Dan. No! It’s all right.”
He was shaking violently. “Dan!”
Dan Reilly bolted upright. He automatically grabbed his stomach. It was wet, but from sweat, not blood. And the woman whose concerned voice was cutting through his dream belonged to Yibing Cheng.
“Dan, Dan, it’s okay. You’re here with me. Yibing.”
Reilly slowly collected his thoughts. Yibing turned on a night light and faced the man she’d been seeing for just a few months. They were in Athens, but he was not on the street bleeding. But he had had nights like this—in Paris, Washington, and where Reilly and Yibing had first met, Beijing.
“Your dream again?” she asked. He gathered his thoughts.
“Yes, except this time it was here. Outside our restaurant last night.
The street—”
“I’m so sorry,” Yibing said pulling him close to her naked body.
What did she do?”
“At least she didn’t throw me into a woodchipper this time,” Reilly replied lightly. “No plastic bag over my head. No fall from a cliff.” He rubbed his gut. “But she was pretty good with a knife, even for a dream.”
Reilly knew what was going on. Shrinks might call it PTSD. He saw it more as a combination of guilt over the fact that he failed to recognize Marnie Babbitt was a Russian plant and guilt that he couldn’t save her the moment he realized she wanted out. It was all manifesting itself in very vivid revenge dreams. But it was not paranoia.
There was more that wasn’t in his dream world. Dan Reilly had seen drones out his window after he and Yibing had returned from Beijing. He’d spotted people following them. And they were not his people. Not Yibing’s either.
For now, he viewed the tails and eavesdropping as intimidation. Russian or possibly Chinese. But it could get worse. It likely would get worse and not because he was an international hotel executive. It was his moonlighting. Dan Reilly had deep ties with officers at the CIA and even deeper ties with the United States Secretary of State.
Author Bio:
ED FULLER is CEO of Laguna Strategic Advisors, a global consortium providing business consulting services worldwide. He has served on business and charitable boards during his 40-year career with Marriott International where he was chief marketing officer followed by 22 years as president and managing director of Marriott International. Under his management, the international division grew from 16 to 550 hotels in 73 countries with 80,000 associates and sales of $8 billion. Upon retirement, Fuller has served on five university boards and taught as adjunct professor for MBA and undergraduate students. He blogged for Forbes and other tourism and lodging industry media. His book, You Can’t Lead with Your Feet on the Desk, has been printed in English, Japanese and Chinese. Fuller served as captain in the U.S. Army, stationed in Germany and Vietnam and received the Bronze Star and the Army Commendation medals. He and Gary Grossman are co-authors of the Red Hotel series, including the 2018 thriller Red Hotel and the 2021 release, Red Deception, soon to be followed by Red Chaos.
Gary Grossman is author of the bestselling political thrillers EXECUTIVE ACTIONS,EXECUTIVE TREASON, EXECUTIVE COMMAND, and EXECUTIVE FORCE; a geological thriller that spans 4 billions years, OLD EARTH; and with co-author Ed Fuller, RED HOTEL, RED CHAOS, and RED DECEPTION. Grossman has also written two acclaimed non-fiction books covering pop culture and television history: SUPERMAN: SERIAL TO CEREAL and SATURDAY MORNING TV.
He is an Emmy Award-winning network television producer, a print and television journalist, a novelist and a film and TV historian. His career has included stints producing for NBC News, CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox, PBS and 40 cable networks.
Grossman has produced more than 10,000 series episodes and specials through his TV production company Weller/Grossman Productions, and earned numerous awards including the prestigious Governor’s Emmy Award for a USA Network production and an Emmy for Best Informational series with the production of “Wolfgang Puck” for Food Network. Their documentary “Beyond the Da Vinci Code” (History Channel) earned two national Emmy nominations. In all, Grossman has received 14 Emmy nominations.
Grossman earned a Bachelors Degree in Communications from Emerson College in Boston and a Master’s Degree in Urban Affairs from Boston University.
He began his broadcasting career as a rock disc jockey at WHUC, in Hudson, New York. He worked at Boston television station, WBZ; joined The Boston Globe as a special contributor, and then became the television critic and media columnist at The Boston Herald American. His freelance articles have appeared in The New York Times and numerous magazines. He taught journalism and media at Emerson College, Boston University, USC and now Loyola Marymount University’s Graduate School of Film and Television.
Grossman helped formulate, program and launch television cable networks including HGTV, National Geographic Channel, and The Africa Channel.
Grossman has served on the Emerson College Board of Trustees where he chaired the Academic Affairs Committee. He is also a member of the Boston University Metropolitan College Advisory Board. For four years he was chair of the Government Affairs Committee for the Caucus for Television Producers, Directors & Writers, a Hollywood-based media activist group. He is member of The International Thriller Writers Association.
