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.
The Sun Frank F. Weber Publication date: December 10th 2024 Genres: Adult, Thriller
Taytum Hanson, a determined and alluring attorney, steps into the sunlight, as she relentlessly searches for a loophole in her lover’s conviction. Is freeing Tug Grant the answer or the beginning of a new set of problems? Taytum’s passionate lifestyle and willingness to take on the Minnesota Mafia places her life in jeopardy. Jon and Serena Frederick face hard choices in this intense fast-paced thriller with a fierce pulse-pounding ending. If you enjoyed Scandal of Vandals you’ll love how The Sun warms and then burns.
TUG GRANT
6:00 A.M., TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2021
MINNESOTA CORRECTIONAL FACILITY – LINO LAKES
7525 4TH AVENUE, LINO LAKES
The cells in each pod at Lino are dull brown concrete with blue metal doors. I shiver as I glance out the thin side window, waiting for the day to start. Everybody wears two layers because there’s a chill that runs through this cellblock on a cold night that you can’t shake. The common area has blue metal tables and chairs bolted to the floor. It would be impossible to make a seat less comfortable than the flat steel circles mounted too close to our tables.
I’m tempted to call the Innocence Project. Dick Doden mur- dered my wife, Deb Grant. Doden testified that my friend, Roan Caruso, hired him for the hit. And that’s where the evidence ends. How the hell did I get convicted of murder-for-hire? Prosecutor Bridget Bare claimed the circumstantial evidence was over- whelming. But was it? Is taking out an insurance policy on your partner evidence of murder? Ten million dollars might have been a little excessive, but it’s not enough to convict a man of murder.
I had loaned Roan one hundred thousand dollars before Deb’s murder. That loan and the insurance were all they had. It was all circumstantial. Roan never implicated me.
Author Bio:
Frank Weber is a forensic psychologist who has completed assessments for homicide, sexual assault, and domestic abuse cases. His work has ranged from assessing murderers chained to the cement floor in the basement of a prison and assessing psychopaths to providing therapy for wealthy professionals who’ve engaged in multiple affairs. He has testified as an expert witness in numerous sexual assault and homicide cases, written seven different treatment workbooks, and in 2015 published a training series for psychologists which has been accredited by the MN Board of Psychology. He has received the President’s Award from the Minnesota Correctional Association for his forensic work, and recently received an award for excellence in his clinical work. Frank Weber has used his unique understanding of how predator’s think, victim trauma, and actual court cases to create a thrilling mystery. His debut novel, Murder Book, will be available in May, 2017.
Ambition to Savor B.B.E. Gwyn (The Lone Thorn Series) Publication date: February 7th 2025 Genres: Adult, Adventure, Fantasy
When a quest for magical ingredients takes you from kitchen to adventure, you’d better save your appetite.
Dedicated and cautious restaurant owner Jonathan Tessier dreams of crafting legendary recipes—the fame and fortune that might follow is a pretty nice bonus. But it’s all he can do to keep his restaurant afloat. Stolen ingredients, a surprise visit from a food critic, and a damaged reputation put his business at risk.
Jonathan knows he needs to make a change. A big one. Before he loses it all.
He and his eager head chef, Elenora Kerras, soon set off to find the bizarre ingredients that might save his restaurant. This hunt takes them through towns and wilderness, where they encounter dangerous beasts and sly individuals. They face challenges more thrilling than even their busiest dinner shifts.
Each success brings Jonathan ever closer to his lofty goal—until he stumbles upon his most startling discovery yet.
Will his dreams be worth all their luster, or will the revelation shatter his culinary world?
A standalone fantasy adventure in the Lone Thorn series, Ambition to Savor is a fun and whimsical tale that explores a question you never thought you needed to ask—What if a restaurant owner had magical powers and a dream to find flavors from deep within a world of hidden quirks?
Corruption. Mutiny. Absolute villainy was occurring within the walls of his beloved establishment.
Jonathan Tessier had little reason to complain of late. Profit margins were rising, his customer base was expanding, and the recent annual health inspection had wrapped up swimmingly with no findings. After years of fatiguing work and plowing through stress, things were supposed to be looking up for his pride and joy, the Taverne Tessier.
However, walking down the street on this early autumn morning, he was feeling neither proud nor joyous. He could see his restaurant across from him as he stood waiting at the intersection, its pristine exterior of royal blue and beige surrounded by trees of warm hues. When he first renovated the place, he had aimed for a clean and regal appearance inside and out, so even if he could not boast of its size, the feeling of elegance, class, and beauty would still be conveyed.
And now it was filthy. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Author Bio:
B.B.E. Gwyn is an author who enjoys diving into realms of low fantasy adventure. She draws inspiration from tabletop role-playing games, yokai folklore, and all kinds of media featuring characters with fun, bizarre powers. Her novels focus on intricate plots and rich character development without any romance or spicy elements, using the full breadth of her pages to offer thrilling adventures in a mysterious world.
The Garden of Before Ryan Leslie (The Between, #2) Published by: Parliament House Press Publication date: September 23rd 2025 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Horror
“That’s what happens here, Paul. Every power has its price. It always gets worse.”
For Paul Prentice things have gotten much worse. His house was destroyed in the battle with the Koŝmaro. He’s on thin ice at his job, where instead of working he loses himself in the Between’s computer game, trying in vain to find explanations. His best friend Jay has transformed into a shadowy killer. Corinne and Supriya have vanished. And it appears his wife, Julie, has finally had enough and left him.
Alone and near ruin, Paul receives a familiar visitor with a dire message: they are all back in the Between. Hunted, captured, doomed. For Paul, still wearing the serĉilo’s artifact on his wrist, escape was never an option. The game must be played until the end.
In the harrowing conclusion to The Between, Leslie once again invites readers into a mind-twisting world where the most terrifying monsters are the ones let loose inside of us.
Ryan Leslie oversees research for a large health system, where making stuff up is generally frowned upon. His creative outlet has always been writing fiction. He lives in Austin, Texas, with his wife, children’s author Lindsay Leslie, and their two sons.
Change of Heart Dr. Cristina LePort (A Miner & Mulville Novel) Publication date: February 4th 2025 Genres: Adult, Thriller
In the bustling heart of New York City, a young medical student’s life is tragically cut short, though her heart continues to beat, holding the promise of life for another. Detective Kirk Miner is called to the scene and quickly uncovers a chilling conspiracy involving organ donations and high-stakes crime. As the investigation unfolds, Miner realizes the case is far more complex and dangerous than it initially seemed.
Enter FBI Agent Jack Mulville, who steps in to supervise Special Agent Charlotte Bloom as they join forces with Miner. Together, they unravel a web of corruption, revealing that Amy Winter’s death is connected to a ruthless organ trafficking ring. Amy Winter, a promising pre-med student, is found dead under mysterious circumstances. Her death triggers an investigation that pulls Miner, Mulville, and Bloom into a labyrinth of deceit and desperation. As they dig deeper, they discover that Amy’s heart is not just a donor’s gift but a coveted prize in a deadly game controlled by criminals willing to kill to keep their secrets hidden.
The quest for justice takes Miner, Mulville, and Bloom through the shadowy underbelly of organ trafficking, revealing the lengths to which people will go to secure life-saving transplants. Amidst the danger, they face moral dilemmas and personal risks, pushing them to their limits as they strive to protect innocent lives and dismantle a powerful criminal network.
“Change of Heart” is a gripping medical thriller that intertwines the intricacies of modern medicine with the relentless pursuit of justice. Cristina LePort, M.D., masterfully combines her medical expertise with edge-of-your-seat storytelling, delivering a novel that will keep you turning pages long into the night. Dr. LePort is an accomplished physician with a passion for weaving medical knowledge into thrilling narratives. Her extensive background in medicine lends authenticity and depth to her stories, making the Miner & Mulville series a unique blend of fact and fiction. (CristinaLePort.com)
He examined the blood-smeared paper. Only one typed sentence: I donate my organs for transplant. Kirk stared at the illegible signature. Something begged for attention, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was…
“Any weapons or bullets?”
“This was on the driver’s seat between the victim and the door.” John produced an evidence bag from his backpack. “A Ruger. A woman’s gun. Small, concealable, and accurate.”
Kirk reached for the bag and wrapped his hand around the plastic covering the grip’s checkered frame. In his mind, the weapon’s light weight and John’s words triggered an image of a beautiful young woman, Amy Winter, with no future.
“The bullet,” John went on, “ended up embedded next to the ceiling, on the car’s front passenger side. No other bullets found in the gun.”
“Why next to the ceiling?” Kirk lifted his eyes from the gun.
“It must have hit her cellphone.” John handed Kirk a plastic-wrapped iPhone with a dazzling pink case. “She must’ve been holding the phone to her ear when the bullet exited. We found the phone on the car floor between the two back seats. Screen’s shattered, phone’s dead.”
Kirk examined the phone. The black screen bore a bloody diagonal fracture from top to bottom. That would have been the direction of the exiting bullet grazing a phone glued to the woman’s right ear. Who in hell would she be chatting with while killing herself?
“Who discovered the victim?” Kirk said.
“A man called the hospital ER and 9-1-1 at about the same time.” John extracted a smartphone from his sport jacket and scrolled through his notes. “The call to the ER was registered at 4:41a.m. I’m not sure how precise that is. The 9-1-1 call came in at 4:42.”
Kirk placed his index finger on the phone’s volume button. Nothing happened. Then his thumb pressed the reset button several times. After the third try, the screen lit up. A key piece of a puzzle fell into place, making Kirk feel almost giddy with excitement.
“I’m afraid we’re not dealing with an attempted suicide,” Kirk said, turning the face of the phone toward John, “but an attempted murder.”
“I agree.” John’s brows went up. “But how can you be so sure without any forensics?”
“Several things,” Kirk said. “The note was added later, after the shot. Smears of blood, instead of sprays. Poor attempt by the shooter to make us believe the note was on the seat before the bullet hit.”
“Yeah,” John said, “that’s been bothering me also. You’ve come a long way from your training over ribs and beer.”
Kirk smiled at the memory of their favorite pub. It seemed a long time ago when Kirk decided to leave the police force and John helped him get started as a private investigator. John was more than a mentor. He always cared about Kirk, but cared even more after Kirk’s near-fatal car accident years ago. John had become as protective as an older brother.
The image of the dark pub dissipated and Kirk refocused on the victim’s note.
“I’m no calligrapher,” he said, “but, from the slanting of the signature, I think the victim is right-handed. A right-handed person would shoot her right side.”
“If it’s actually her signature,” John said.
“The shooter could have forced her to sign at gun point,” Kirk said. “Either way, it would point to attempted murder.”
“What else?”
“We’ve got the exact time of the shooting,” Kirk said, waving the plastic-clad phone. “Here in this frozen, undead iPhone.”
John grabbed the evidence bag. He stared at the fractured, frozen screen.
His lips stretched into a grin.
“The bullet froze the time at 4:43,” Kirk said. “One minute after the 9-1-1 call. The man called before the shooting occurred. It’s unlikely someone would notice the shooter, figure out what he was going to do, call the police, and leave without talking to them.”
“The witness could have left because he was afraid the shooter would come after him,” John said.
“Or perhaps,” Kirk said, “the caller knew the shooting would occur because he himself was the shooter. And he wanted the victim to be found as soon as possible.”
John referred again to his notes. “The caller said that someone had been shot. Not someone is going to shoot, or is shooting, somebody. The woman had gun powder residue on her left hand, but the shooter could’ve placed the gun in her hand before throwing it in the car. We’ve got a few prints on the handle. I bet they’re all from her. But I still think you’re right.”
Kirk nodded. “The shooter made sure she would be rescued in time for her organs to be saved for donation and subsequent transplant.”
Kirk turned toward the hospital ER entrance. A vivid memory materialized. A plastic bracelet around his wrist, from six years ago, in a different hospital. The bracelet classifying him as an organ donor. After his prolonged coma, doctors had given up on Kirk. Luckily for him, he had woken up and retained his organs.
The woman who had crossed the ER threshold earlier that morning wouldn’t be so lucky. Someone wanted her organs badly enough to put a bullet in her brain.
Author Bio:
Dr. Cristina LePort was born in Bologna, Italy. She attended medical school at the University of Bologna and then completed her medical training at Long Island College Hospital in Brooklyn and at the University of California, Los Angeles. She is board certified in Internal Medicine and Cardiovascular Diseases and has been practicing medicine for more than thirty years. Cristina is also the Chief Medical Officer and co-founder of Genescient, a biotech company devoted to genetic research on aging and the amelioration of chronic diseases. Medicine and fiction are her twin passions, and she is absolutely thrilled to be able to share her medical thrillers with the world.
Cristina LePort currently resides in Orange County, California, with her husband Peter LePort, a general surgeon. They have three children and three grandchildren.
Eternal Ashes Janelle Marie (Ash & Rage, #1) Publication date: January 21st 2025 Genres: Adult, Thriller
One night. One moment. One mistake. Now life will never be the same.
In her hometown of Auburn Village, Sofie Collins has built a good life for herself and her teenage daughter, April.
Sofie’s business is growing, and they are both happily in love, with April about to graduate from high school in only a few weeks.
Life – although far from perfect – is good. But one moment is all it takes.
Just one moment and now Sofie’s world will never be the same again.
Instead of building a brighter future with each passing day, Sofie suddenly finds the happiness she found slipping further and further through her fingers.
And it seems as though all the blame and guilt lies with her…
Or does it?
This mesmerizing drama is the compelling first chapter of a story of heartbreak, betrayal and cold revenge. When her world breaks, will Sofie find the strength to rebuild the pieces? Or is she about to send it crashing down?
Sofie stared out the window of Chief Edison’s unmarked police car, a cold sense of dread spreading through her chest as she awaited her daughter’s fate. The local hospital wasn’t far, but the ride felt like it was hours. They had left immediately after throwing on some clothes. Sofie wasn’t sure what she had grabbed, or if she should bring anything for April. What had happened? What could’ve possibly happened? Why hadn’t she come home?
The night was still and silent. Everything was so quiet and peaceful, in such stark contrast to the turmoil raging through Sofie’s whole body.
Please, let my baby girl be okay. The thought repeated itself in her head, right along with the last image she had of April walking hand-in-hand out of the pub with Drew. April’s last words to Sofie had been “I love you.” But Sofie couldn’t remember if she’d said those all-important words back to her.
Sofie’s breath clutched in her chest, her gasp disturbing the silence inside the car. Chief Edison glanced back at her through the rearview mirror, concern in his eyes despite his blank expression. Beside her, Parker took Sofie’s hand, interlocking their fingers.
Chief Edison hadn’t given them many details beyond the fact April and Drew had been in an accident. He’d shared no insight into their condition. He didn’t need to though. Sofie could read between the lines. If the kids were okay, they would have been driven home.
April would have called.
If the kids were okay, Chief Edison would have said so instead of staying tight-lipped. His silence was a red flag. A bad omen.
Please, let my baby girl be okay…
Sofie’s vision blurred and she blinked back tears, refusing to let any fall yet. She was convinced crying prematurely would only bring bad luck. Sofie was fearing the worst, but she needed to hold on to some kind of hope. At least now, before she knew for certain how bad it was.
Maybe the kids were banged up and in shock. Maybe there were some broken bones. Maybe some concussions. Scrapes and scratches. Bruises. A bunch of stuff would heal quickly…
And maybe one day, a few weeks or months from now, they would remember this incident as a scary close-call they’d overcome. A minor setback.
Someday in the future, April and Drew would be married and in their forties, telling their kids about the bad crash they had weeks before graduating high school. Their yearbook would have pictures of all the signatures they’d gotten on their matching casts.
There was no need to panic.
No need to panic. Sofie let these words replace the chant in her head, wanting so badly to believe them. Yet, no matter how hard she tried to cling to some optimism, the prolonged drive provided ample time for dread to take hold again.
Author Bio:
Janelle Marie is a distinguished voice in the realm of thriller-suspense fiction. Residing amidst the towering evergreens and cascading mountains of the Pacific Northwest, she infuses her stories with the essence of her surroundings, creating a unique and immersive experience for her readers.
With a talent for weaving tales, Janelle embarked on her writing journey, driven by a love for a great book. She discovered her passion for crafting stories that send shivers down the spine, skillfully spinning narratives that are tapestries of suspense, where unexpected twists and turns keep readers guessing until the final, gripping conclusion.
Janelle Marie invites readers to join her on a journey into the heart of suspense, where the landscapes are as unpredictable as the twists in her tales. Through her evocative prose, she aims to transport readers into a world where danger lurks in the shadows and the only way out is to keep turning the pages.
Tale of the Seasons’ Weaver D. Wallace Peach Publication date: January 9th 2024 Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
“Already the animals starve. Soon the bonemen will follow, the Moss Folk and woodlings, the watermaids and humans. Then the charmed will fade. And all who will roam a dead world are dead things. Until they too vanish for lack of remembering. Still, Weaver, it is not too late.”
In the frost-kissed cottage where the changing seasons are spun, Erith wears the Weaver’s mantle, a title that tests her mortal, halfling magic. As the equinox looms, her first tapestry nears completion—a breathtaking ode to spring. She journeys to the charmed isle of Innishold to release the beauty of nature’s awakening across the land.
But human hunters have defiled the enchanted forest and slaughtered winter’s white wolves. Enraged by the trespass, the Winter King seizes Erith’s tapestry and locks her within his ice-bound palace. Here, where comfort and warmth are mere glamours, she may weave only winter until every mortal village succumbs to starvation, ice, and the gray wraiths haunting the snow.
With humanity’s fate on a perilous edge, Erith must break free of the king’s grasp and unravel a legacy of secrets. In a charmed court where illusions hold sway, allies matter, foremost among them, the Autumn Prince. Immortal and beguiling, he offers a tantalizing future she has only imagined, one she will never possess—unless she claims her extraordinary power to weave life from the brink of death.
In the lyrical fantasy tradition of Margaret Rogerson and Holly Black, D. Wallace Peach spins a spellbinding tale of magic, resilience, and the transformative potency of tales—a tapestry woven with peril and hope set against the frigid backdrop of an eternal winter.
A wicker basket of colorful spools rested at my feet. I picked through the bewitched thread my mother had hand-spun long before my birth. No matter how many seasons passed, the spools unwound and unwound, and I no longer fretted about reaching their ends. There was no end to magic, no end to the seasons, no end to my place on the cusp of two worlds.
A delicate pink caught my eye, a color crafted from the cherry blossoms bordering my garden. I held it against the tapestry, testing its suitability for flowering plum trees and coral bells I’d stitch into the meadows and along the forest’s edge.
“Should you desire my opinion, Erith,” a small voice piped up, “it requires a touch of carnation and a shimmer of sunshine. On the dogwood blossoms as well.”
“I wondered about those.” My gaze rose to my knee-high hospet. He sat cross-legged on the hearthstone in front of our shrinking fire, cracking walnuts with his sharp teeth. The creature blinked at me with eyes as clear as spring water, his waistcoat buttoned, cheeks rosy, and cinnamon hair parted in the middle like a magistrate. Nobbin kept my wood and moss cottage tidy, expecting little beyond customary respect and an occasional outfit when his garments aged past mending.
He also took it upon himself to offer artistic advice since my mother had chosen to join my father in the underworld.
“I might leave them as they are,” I said. “Dogwoods are white.”
Nobbin’s eyebrows tilted up in an expression of devilish skepticism. “Spring’s princess will agree with me. Give it a brush of magic. I know you dabble when I’m otherwise occupied.”
“You spy on me?”
“I’m observant. And I’m charmed.” He flicked his handcloth at the window. “Snow doesn’t glitter like that without your touch, my girl. You added that sparkle to your mother’s tapestry, and it impressed the Winter King.”
“Do you think so?” A blush heated my cheeks. “From what I’ve gathered, he’s not one to dole out compliments.”
“None of them are.” Nobbin held up a nut as if inspecting a precious gem. “Such is the nature of immortals. Add a layer of royalty on top, and we are lucky they don’t dismember anyone or anything tarnishing their crowns.”
“Dismember?” I cringed at the grisly thought and drew my black shawl around my shoulders. “My mother told me the courtiers are kind and cruel in equal measure. Without good reason for either.”
Not one to speak with his mouth full, Nobbin raised a finger and swallowed a morsel of walnut. “Indeed, they’re notoriously whimsical. But you are their weaver, and every artist must begin somewhere. You will earn your place, Erith, though it is no simple task to prove your power and demand respect. Spring is the first tapestry you may claim as your own creation, and it is a glorious start. I have untold faith in you.”
I smiled gratefully and stifled a shudder at the challenge ahead. Despite Nobbin’s trust in me, my confidence wavered like a weathervane on a gusty day. I’d done my best, and it would have to serve. The seasons’ rulers wouldn’t dismember me on a whim. I hoped.
Author Bio:
Best-selling author D. Wallace Peach grew up surrounded by her father’s well-loved paperback books. Fantasy was a staple, but it was Tolkien’s The Hobbit that planted the seeds which would grow into a passion for writing.
Peach started writing later in life when years of working in business surrendered to a full-time indulgence in the imaginative world of books. She was instantly hooked.
In addition to fantasy books, Peach’s publishing career includes participation in various anthologies featuring short stories, flash fiction, and poetry. She’s an avid supporter of the arts in her local community, organizing and publishing annual anthologies of Oregon prose, poetry, and photography.
Peach lives in a log cabin amongst the tall evergreens and emerald moss of Oregon’s rainforest with her husband, two owls, a horde of bats, and the occasional family of coyotes.
Inked in Blood and Memory Allison Ivy Publication date: December 3rd 2024 Genres: Horror, LGBTQ+, New Adult
Recluse Sophie Vanguard’s winter cabin retreat turns ominous when blue flowers mysteriously appear. They’re everywhere. On her front porch, in kitchen cabinets, and even on her pillow. It isn’t long before chilling whispers echo in the halls, and her journal repeats seven unsettling entries.
Enter the bloodied and beautifully eccentric Ly Thi Ren. Though Ren seems familiar, Sophie refuses to believe the girl’s insistence that they are trapped inside a book.
In a land of fiction, truth and lies blur together, clear decisions are marred by doubt, and shared family trauma lurks just below the surface.
Can Ren and Sophie make it out alive? Or will they end up nothing more than words inked in blood and memory?
With elements of gothic horror, splatterpunk, romance, and fantasy, Inked in Blood and Memory is a self-aware LGBTQ+ horror that wraps its clutches around the reader and doesn’t let go.
You never forget your first ritual sacrifice. So why had I? That seems like something you’d remember. It’s not something most American families gather for.
Hey, Má. Could you pass the rau răm? Oh, and what time is the sacrifice tonight?
And yet, I had forgotten. I had forgotten the little things, too. My mother’s laugh, her abrupt chortles that often devolved into giggles. My childhood nickname.
We eat pho the night our own parents sacrifice one of my best friends. It’s weird what sticks with you after years of trying to forget. We eat in silence, though I haven’t yet realized the reason for the solemn mood. My nine-year-old brain doesn’t quite grasp the idea of “sacrifice.” I can’t wait to wear my new ceremonial cloak. I begged my parents to let me wear it through dinner, but they refused.
“It’s too special,” they say. “You don’t want to ruin it, do you, con gái?”
No, I don’t want that. Still, my eyes wander to the piece of clothing that hangs on the coat tree next to the front door. The intricate symbols fascinate me. The only other place I’ve seen them is on the book. Not just any book. The book.
I get to see it on special occasions during the four months out of the year our family guards it. The other eight months are split between two additional families. My best friends’, Sophie Vanguard and Jeremy Berg-Nilsen.
We’ll join them later for the ceremony or the “thanksgiving,” but not that Thanksgiving. We are not pilgrims, but our three families are special. Chosen. And today, Jeremy is the most special.
“Ông xã, are you sure this is the only way?” Má squeezes Ba’s arm.
Ba remains quiet for so long I almost ask him if he’s heard Má. I’m not sure what she means by her question or why it’s gotten even quieter than before.
Ba answers before I speak. “It’s too late to back out. Maybe we could have years ago, but not now. This is how we keep our family safe.” He kisses my mother’s hand and stands to clear the plates.
I knit my brows together. Why are they so serious? It’s like they’re sad. But it’s the day of the thanksgiving. They should be happy.
Later that night, I beam proudly in my cloak with the strange symbols, relishing the feel of the velvet hem between my fingertips. Incense burns in a corner, permeating the air with a smoky aroma that I’ve always hated, but it reminds me of the days we celebrate the four equinoxes.
The adults hug and talk amongst themselves excitedly. All but Mrs. Berg-Nilsen, Jeremy’s mom. She stands against the wall, keeping to herself. Her long blonde hair covers most of her face, but I can tell her cheeks are wet.
I ponder this as I sit cross-legged on the antique rug with Jeremy in his family’s living room. We sip Capri-Suns and talk about what we think will happen in a few minutes.
“Happy birthday, Jeremy,” Sophie says after arriving with her parents and barreling through the adults’ legs. She holds a cloak that matches mine out behind her as she runs like she’s a superhero or a bat and plops down on the rug between us.
“Thanks, Sophie,” Jeremy mumbles, staring at his Capri-Sun.
Of the three of us, Sophie is the most frenetic. I think that’s the word Ba used. The adults are always hiding the sugar from her. She channels her chaotic energy for good most of the time. At school this past week, a couple kids from our grade cornered Jeremy. Sophie took me by the hand and came to Jeremy’s aid, not letting up until the kids backed off.
“Why is your mom crying?” I ask Jeremy.
His eyes move from his drink to his shoes, and he tugs at the laces. “Dad says she’s happy, but she won’t look at me.”
“Grownups are weird,” I say, watching Jeremy’s parents lead the rest into the kitchen.
“I think I did something real bad,” Jeremy says.
The door swings closed, and I’m on my feet, ignoring Sophie’s questions and drawn to the conversation happening behind the closed door.
Author Bio:
Allison Ivy writes under a pen name and grew up reading a book a day. She graduated from Penn State with a B.A. in English and a Creative Writing certificate. She currently lives in Connecticut and listens to far too many show tunes and DVD commentaries. The Dragon and the Double-Edged Sword is her first novel.
