Book Tour Stop: Andrew Grey's Heart of a Hero

 

Title: Heart of a Hero

Series: Gentle Giants Book 2

Author: Andrew Grey

Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance/Military

Release Date: Mar 3, 2026

Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print

Forrest Scoville has long accepted that his size intimidates people, but he refuses to let it keep him from his dream of teaching kindergarten. His students adore him, although some of their parents are questioning whether he's fit to teach such young students.

Conrad Langdon is one of those parents. His daughter, Lizzy, who recently lost her mother, is shy around everyone except Forrest. That gives Conrad hope, but he has a history with big, muscular men, so he's reserving judgment.

Still, it's hard not to be won over by the gentle heart that hides inside the giant's body, a heart that helps Conrad open his own as much as it helps Lizzy begin to heal. Unfortunately, that doesn't change the conflict of interest of Forrest being his daughter's teacher.

When they discover a common interest in Lego models, it looks like they could really build something together, if they can overcome the forces threatening to drive them apart.

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Forrest could hardly believe it was only the second week of school and blood had

already been drawn. The kids were at recess, and he was outside the principal’s office

with Billy Harper and Lizzie Langdon. He had seen Billy pull Lizzie’s hair, and he also

saw her turn and punch Billy right in the nose. She really let him have it.

“What’s with the fisticuffs?” Harlon Brown asked when Forrest went into his office. “I

understand that you have a bloody nose on your hands.”

“Yes, we do,” he began as a knock sounded on the door. Then it cracked open.

“Mr. Langdon is here.” His assistant said.

“Send him in,” Harlon told her, and Conrad came in, dressed in tan pants and a

lavender polo shirt. “We seem to have a problem,” Harlon began.

“Yes, you do,” Conrad said, glaring at Harlon as though he were ready to take his head

off. “Lizzie had told me twice about Billy pulling her hair in class. I sent Mr. Scoville a

note about it.”

“And I took Billy aside for it. He even said sorry to Lizzie. But as I was about to say

before you arrived, I saw Billy do it again today, and I saw Lizzie whale on him.” He

couldn’t help smiling. “Harlon, he deserved it, and she was only defending herself.”

Conrad crossed his arms over his chest. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“According to the rules, they both should be suspended for three days.”

“Right,” Conrad said as he approached the desk, like he was a prowling lion and Harlon

was a damned gazelle. “So she gets attacked, repeatedly, and finally defends herself,

and she gets in trouble?” He drew even closer. “So what are you going to do if I decide

to punch you in the face? Sit there and take it or defend yourself? That is what she was

doing.”

Harlon put his hands up. “There is no need to resort to that. I get your point. Billy will not

be suspended either, but I will be talking to his parents. And when they see their son, I

suspect I’m going to get an earful from them too.”

Author Information 

Andrew grew up in western Michigan with a father who loved to tell stories and a mother who loved to read them. Since then, he has lived throughout the country and traveled throughout the world. He has a master’s degree from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and works in information systems for a large corporation.

Andrew’s hobbies include collecting antiques, gardening, and leaving his dirty dishes anywhere but in the sink (particularly when writing) He considers himself blessed with an accepting family, fantastic friends, and the world’s most supportive and loving partner. Andrew currently lives in beautiful, historic Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

Author Links

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Dreamspinner Press

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Book Blast Tour Stop/Giveaway: DUKE DU JOUR

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Petie McCarty will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

She’s waiting in the past . . . He belongs in the future.

Jared Langley, present-day Duke of Reston, tumbles into an abandoned fountain on his ducal estate and is pelted back in time to the year 1816. There, Reston servants and local villagers think him a dead ringer for his namesake and rakehell ancestor—the seventh Duke of Reston, gone missing at the Battle of Waterloo. Unfortunately, Seven got mixed up with French spies out to assassinate the Duke of Wellington, and an unwary Jared ends up in their crosshairs.

Lady Ariana Hart has loved Jared Langley, the seventh Duke of Reston, since she was twelve years old, until the night the rogue broke her heart. Given up for dead, her rakish neighbor makes a miraculous return from Waterloo. Only Jared shows up a changed man and reignites all the feelings Ariana had long ago buried.

Jared is in a race against time.
His tasks?

Waylay the suspicions of his quirky servants and neighbors
Get to Wellington before the French spies do
Fix his fountain–before Seven shows up–so Jared has a way home
And definitely do not fall in love with the irresistible Lady Ariana . . .

Second Edition

Read an Excerpt

The library door crashed open, startling them both and sending them a full step back from each other. A flame-haired siren stalked through the door.

Jared had torn free from Lady Wilder, but he gaped guiltily in a frozen stare, incapable and unwilling to break eye contact with the siren who had burst into the library. He wanted to keep staring and lose himself in those amazing emerald green eyes, made even greener by the rich color of her gown.

The young woman was tall and slender, with smooth, sleek curves at her hips and breasts. Strands of red-gold curls had slipped free of her pale-gold bonnet with its sassy emerald-green trim and curled enticingly around her cheeks, marked by two bright flags of color. He felt his own cheeks flush hot when those amazing green eyes shifted downward and spied the traitorous ducal staff in full salute, then snapped back to glare at him.

“I brought your dog,” the flame-haired siren said flatly. “I feared you would forget to come for Harry. He missed you.”

An enormous mass of black fur bounded into the library and sent the squealing Lady Wilder back to Jared’s side. The immense dog promptly knocked them both to the floor.

The siren frowned her displeasure and headed for the chaise to make herself comfortable.

“Get him off! Get him off!”

Lady Wilder’s high-pitched shrieks almost burst Jared’s eardrums. He rolled her off him and reached for the dog’s collar. The massive black hound danced away, totally unaffected by Lady Wilder’s shrieks and slaps, and managed to squeeze in a few sloppy licks between her swings at the dog’s head, which would have been funny if Jared’s ears did not ache.

“Come here, boy!” Jared barked as he scrambled to his feet.

“Don’t you dare hurt him!” the siren shouted.

“You did that on purpose, Ariana! You little witch!” Lady Wilder screamed.

Ariana? What a perfect name for the flame-haired beauty.

“Don’t you yell at me, Lucilla Tartley! I am not responsible for Harry’s lack of taste,” Ariana shot back.

So Lady Wilder was Lucilla. Who was Harry? The dog?

Jared tried the name, and the black dog bounded over to him.

“I am surprised Harry even noticed you, now that Jared’s home,” Ariana told Lucilla.

Jared glanced down and noticed the dog sat patiently at his side, but only because his finger was hooked in the dog’s collar. Good Lord! The canine knew he was not the real Jared—or rather Seven. This could be a problem.

About the Author:

Petie spent a large part of her career working at Walt Disney World—"The Most Magical Place on Earth"—where she enjoyed working in the land of fairy tales by day and creating her own romantic fairy tales by night, including her new series, The Cinderella Romances. She eventually said goodbye to her "day" job to write her stories full-time.

These days, Petie spends her time writing new tales for her Cinderella series, her new The Watchers series, sequels to her Regency time-travel series, Lords in Time, and more contemporary romance standalones, along with her two previous releases—Any Fin For Love and Ambush in the Everglades.

Petie shares her home on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee with her horticulturist husband and an opinionated Nanday conure named Sassy who makes a cameo appearance in Christmas Watch, Book 2 of The Watchers series.

Visit Petie at her website, www.petiemccarty.com, to get to know her, learn about her current projects, and discover her other published works.

Website: http://www.petiemccarty.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/petie.mccarty
Twitter: https://x.com/authorpetie
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6094579.Petie_McCarty
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/petie-mccarty
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/petiemccarty

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Duke-Du-Jour-Petie-McCarty-ebook/dp/B0H99Y9Z2Z.

Book Tour Stop/Giveaway: From the Depths of the Stars by CD Clark

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. C.D.Clark will be awarding a digital copy of the book to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Jordan Blue works to survive on the oppressive, corporate colony world, Shoar. A random, near-fatal encounter puts her in the company of Kuvett, a space faring creature of the stars. While Jordan tries to figure out the inscrutable Cosmari, Kuvett sneaks about the dilapidated Outskirts to find out just what happened to the planet, what secrets the impenetrable Meritopolis hides, and why it is there.

Read an Excerpt

Kuvett let go and hovered back to let Jordan continue.

“Yet, the reason why I have such a hard time accepting it is because—” the tears returned as she looked out to the doorway—“there was a time when I didn’t live here alone.”

“I assumed as much. Their presence still lingers here and on you.”

Jordan nodded. “We were together for about six years until one day, she just up and vanished. I don’t know where she went to, I don’t know if she is even still alive, but the fact she never told me where she even left hurts. It hurts a lot.”

“And you fear it may happen once more.” Kuvett leaned against the wall.

“Yes,” Jordan looked to the floor while she sobbed, ashamed. “That, and I don’t know how much time I have left before my lungs give out. Why would anyone want someone whose body’s falling apart? I don’t know for certain, but that’s what it felt like when Violet left.”

Kuvett was silent a moment before she reached up and wiped away the moisture on Jordan’s face. When she opened her eyes, Kuvett pressed her forehead against Jordan’s. “There is much I wish to tell you and how I disagree with how you see yourself. But for now, we are not safe here. If there is anything I can do to assist you, tell me and I will.”

Jordan sniffed again, nodding as she disengaged from Kuvett’s touch. There was still much to do.

About the Author: From his youngest days, C.D. Clark has always loved stories and the worlds they could take him to. His writing career began with original, fan-based fiction which led to his passion for writing. Over the past twenty-five years, C.D. Clark has developed his craft, all the while celebrating his successes and reveling in any spectacular failures, using them as learning experiences. Ever eager to learn, he continues leaping towards the future while creating fantastic new worlds and passing along poignant messages through his books.

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/CDClarkNovelist
Mastodon: https://mas.to/@CDClarkNovelist
Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/bass_prefect
Linktree: https://linktr.ee/cdclarknovelist
Website: https://www.cdclarknovelist.com/

 

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Book Tour Stop/Giveaway: Dark Ugly Places by Ashley Mansour

 

Some wounds don’t heal. They take over.

A Beverly Hills psychological thriller about grief, female rage, fractured identity, and revenge.

Dark Ugly Places

by Ashley Mansour

Genre: Psychological Thriller, Domestic Suspense 

Some wounds don’t heal. They fester. They whisper. They take over.

In Dark Ugly Places, trauma isn’t something you survive — it’s something that survives you.

Thirty-four-year-old Nicola Holiday loses everything in a hit-and-run: her husband dead, her body broken, her fourteen-year-old daughter Emmy forever changed. With no one held accountable, she spirals into grief, panic attacks, and financial ruin — awakening a hereditary darkness she’s spent her life trying to outrun.

That darkness has a voice now. Her name is Martha, and she aches for revenge.

As Nicola’s grip on reality loosens, Martha slips into another life — one of wealth, glamour, and moral rot. When she crosses paths with the wife of a famous actor, Nicola’s suspicions ignite.

Pulled between vengeance and annihilation, Nicola and Martha collide with a woman whose secrets may be the key to everything — or the thing that destroys them both.

Dark, provocative, and deeply unsettling — a haunting psychological portrait of female rage, obsession, and the terrifying lengths the mind will go to survive unbearable pain.

Because sometimes the most dangerous place isn’t the past. It’s inside your own head.

 

“A suspenseful and relentless tale of troubled Californians.”

– Kirkus Reviews

 

“A tense, viciously readable psychological thriller about the violence that lurks beneath polished surfaces.”

 – BookLife Reviews

 

“With fast-paced thrills and gripping psychological drama, Ashley Mansour’s Dark Ugly Places serves up vengeance for morally complex characters.” - Indiereader

 

**Releases September 15 – PreOrder Now!**

Amazon * Author’s Site * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo * Bookshop.org * Bookbub * Goodreads

 

PROLOGUE

No one likes to be kept in the dark.

In the dark, everything is murky, even the Los Angeles sky.

But the day of Nicola’s accident, I had a pretty clear view of things. It tends to be that way—clear—when Nicola isn’t.

Nicola, Ben, and their daughter, Emmy, were walking holding hands, something the three of them hadn’t done since Emmy was a little kid. I felt the itch in Nicola’s palm, like she didn’t want to hold hands. But Emmy insisted. She was between them, arms outstretched, making that little humming sound she sometimes made when she was nervous or lost in thought. Ben walked on slightly ahead, his head down, eyes focused on the phone in his hand. I could almost hear his teeth grinding.

Up ahead, the road was clear. The sun covered everything in butter-yellow light. Crows perched in the bare-barked trees and made long, scratchy cries like a group of smokers laughing. They rustled leaves and crossed the pavement before them. But the trees were still, like the air had been sucked out of the city. Up ahead, the road was clear.

The three of them approached the corner, Emmy and Nicola chatting aimlessly. Ben narrowed his eyes and squinted at the screen as if the sky was too bright. He stepped out into the road first. Emmy, next. She skipped slightly—braids flying—and pulled her mom’s arm.

Nicola looked up and saw one of the crows overhead, its beak open, making a dreadful sound. When she looked back at the road, her gut pinged with a horrible dread she couldn’t place.

Then she—we—saw it.

From the middle distance, something large and white hurtled into view, its body glinting in the sun. Emmy screamed. Nicola tried to pull her back, but one by one, her fingers slipped out of her grasp.

It was too late.

Nicola’s body collided with the big, white thing, and in the next moment, she was airborne, tumbling through the air as if she had been taken by a tornado. Her thoughts spiraled with her, spinning out of control.

I’m going to die.

I’m going to live.

Don’t let me die.

I’m going to die.

She kept spiraling, around and around, until I stopped her with a simple suggestion: Breathe, Nicola. Breathe. We have this power, those of us who live in the darkness.

The asphalt grated her spine. It must have hurt, but Nicola did not cry. Perhaps because the air was too full of Emmy’s screams.

She rolled to her left, her left arm pinned against her chest like a piece of limp fabric. Her left leg lay stretched out before her perfectly straight, but dead. Cold. Frozen in place. She rolled to her side and saw Emmy, blood coating half of her face as though she were wearing a mask. Five feet away, Ben lay in the road unmoving, his body contorted, his face turned away.

Overhead, the stretch of blue sky angled down Beverly Boulevard and went on forever. Cars passed, some honking, others slowing to stop and help or to get a better look. Nicola grunted and heaved herself along the ground, her jaw gritting with pain. She reached for Emmy, reached for Ben.

The white body of the car stirred. A door opened. A black polished shoe emerged onto the asphalt as the driver leaned out, then disappeared again as the door shut. I heard the engine as the car started and rolled backwards, slow at first, then picking up speed until it was gone.

Tropes:

Unreliable narrators; multiple POV; fractured identity / alter ego; trauma and grief; female rage; revenge; morally gray women; abusive celebrity marriage; obsession; betrayal; buried secrets; mother-daughter relationship; wealth and class divide; Beverly Hills and Los Angeles setting; cinematic suspense. 

Giveaway

$100 Amazon or Paypal

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

https://www.silverdaggerbooktours.com/darkuglyplaces

About the Author:

Ashley Mansour writes dark, cinematic psychological suspense and domestic suspense about dangerous relationships, buried truths, and the chaos waiting beneath the surface of ordinary lives. 

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Book Tour Stop: The Netherworld Witch by Lisa Acerbo

Title: The Netherworld Witch

Author: Lisa Acerbo

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/25/2026

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 79600

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, fantasy, young adult, bisexual, interracial, high school, fantasy world, elves, witch

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Description

Mina Rubenstein has a secret. She doesn’t just sketch elves; her drawings transport her into the kingdom of Auralon. Once there, the princely Callon informs her the king has vanished, dark forces are rising, and Mina is the Netherworld Witch. According to the prophecy, only she can shape the ethereal darkness into anything imagined, find the missing monarch, and save the realm. Mina never asked for magic, let alone a destiny, but refusing Callon’s plea to save his father could doom Auralon.

The only thing worse than her possible death at the hands of mythical monsters is junior year at St. Benedict’s Catholic School. When bullies target her, Mina’s best friend Ayden becomes her sanctuary and first love. But as the torment escalates, Ayden reaches a breaking point. Desperate and angry, she buys a weapon and begins talking about revenge.

Trapped between two worlds, Mina searches for peace in both. One world is filled with family, Ayden, and school. The other full of wild magic and Callon. As Mina’s existence at St. Benedict’s descends into pandemonium, she wonders whether her quest in Auralon is fate or a way to avoid the pain of reality.

Excerpt

The Netherworld Witch
Lisa Acerbo © 2026
All Rights Reserved

Prologue

Snow fell. Mina contemplated how she wanted to show this in her drawing. Snow changed the world. Everything quieted, boundaries blurred, soft edges seeped. A white hush cloaked streets, trees, entire towns. Familiar places were reinvented.

Snow was symbolic. A fresh start, a clean surface, a new beginning, but Mina’s snow, once pristine, ephemeral, and gossamer, was laced with blood. Black dots on the white sheet of paper made flakes heavy and unyielding. She continued to sketch. The flurries fell into Callon’s eyes, drenched his cloak, and hindered his success. The bands of white muffled the anguished cries and the death falls. It made horror beautiful from far away, but up close, evil was anything but pretty.

Mina pressed her charcoal pencil hard against the pristine paper. The elf’s now familiar features appeared intense, smeared with dirt and rage. Pain illuminated his eyes with each new line she rendered. “This is not what I want to draw.”

Chaos ensued. Warriors and mythical monsters clashed as snow and sleet slashed sideways. The princely elf battled goblins. Not one, not three, but four short, stocky, incredibly ugly creatures. Their faces were leathery; hair bulged from large bat ears and curled over most every other part of their bodies. Damp, sweat-soaked strands protruded through chinks in their misshapen armor. Sleet matted tangles down in abstraction over squat, muscular arms. Small and fast, furious, and deadly, the monsters surrounded the prince.

Mina wanted to stop sketching as much as she wished her heart would cease violently rattling in her chest. It was a drawing for God’s sake, but her pencil felt like a prediction and the outcome dire. She couldn’t see Callon hurt.

His gorget and leather armor were splattered with muck and mud, dripping and heavy. His hefty sword sliced through the first goblin’s skin as easily as it carved the white falling flakes. He staggered when another monster’s sword pierced his leg. She etched a gash down his thigh. Callon’s shoulders rounded with fatigue, yet Mina drew on. She couldn’t stop sketching, as much as she tried to pull herself away.

Ice amassed under the prince’s feet, sending him skittering. Blood and mud sprayed the ground burgundy. The warrior struck out, slashing in a circle to keep the remaining goblins at bay. He thrust his sword at one, giving another the chance to use his weapon as a spear. Callon parried and drove his sword into the gremlin’s chest. The monster squealed and fell.

The other two were upon him.

Callon’s blade pierced the winter storm of white. He was not the soldier his sister was, but a calm descended. He’d trained for this equally as hard as she had, and while she excelled at horsemanship, he did so in ground combat. He preferred to face his opponent and stare into their eyes, seeing the evil and feeling as if his sword carried out justice rather than violence. He locked eyes with one of the remaining two goblins, already envisioning its demise.

One monster, more reckless than the other, growled, spit, and swore in a language as rough and rude as itself. The stench of death from the slain devils warred with the odor wafting off the living ones. It brought tears to Callon’s eyes even as he attempted to breathe through his mouth. He assumed the goblin across from him was male, but it was nearly impossible to tell. The foul creature jerked forward, swinging a curved sword with ease, aiming at Callon’s midsection, ever so happy to gut him.

“I’ll see you join the others in eternal sleep.” He screamed above the battle roar that surrounded him and kicked away the fallen dead by his feet.

The two remaining demons moved into fighting range. He wielded his sword with muscle memory from all the long, intense training days with his sister, who had pushed him beyond exhaustion to hone his skills. Callon thanked Elarona for that practice now as he cleaved down and across, hitting the portly monster’s arm and severing it. The creature howled in pain and sank to its knees. The prince kicked out, his boot meeting the beast’s face. It fell over and he stabbed, ending its miserable existence.

The other goblin jumped on Callon’s back, ready to plunge a dagger into his neck. The elf grabbed the monster’s arm, blade slicing his cheek. He wrenched the weapon away and fell backward. He hit the packed snow hard, the impact jarring, and squashed the monster to the ground. The prince’s sword flew from his fingers. He twisted off the creature and scurried away.

The goblin crawled on arms and knees after him, yellow teeth chomping, moving faster than Callon could have ever imagined. Its claws grabbed at his pant leg and pulled him close. The elf pawed the slick and slimy ground littered with remnants of both elven and goblin warriors. His hand closed over a rock and when in range, the goblin’s teeth ready to sink into his leg, Callon smashed the stone against its head. The force of impact reverberated through him. He repeated the motion. The rock slammed into the monster’s skull, the squelch and shatter loud, the squeal of the beast deafening, until it fell limp.

Callon pushed away, stood, and scanned the battleground. It was no longer white even though snow continued to fall. Elarona cheered. The other elven warriors joined in the joyous war cry before turning to help the injured or collect bodies of the fallen for burial. The prince limped closer, anything but delighted. The battle was far from over.

Mina put a hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes, and stopped. She crumpled the drawing into a ball and hid it and the paper and pencil under her mattress. No one could know about it.

She stood, opened the door, exited her room, and waved to the orderly standing guard by the locked doors. She walked down the sterile hallway and into the waiting office.

Mina’s tongue stuck to the inside of her chapped lips, as dry as midsummer sand well above the tideline on a beach. The young and overeager doctor sat behind an organized desk where she attempted to interact, but Mina found the bookshelves overladen with psychology texts, including The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, more interesting.

“I have no idea what to talk about.” Mina slouched lower in her chair and battled through her first individual session. She was grateful her parents cared enough to find a place where she’d receive help but mortified that everyone at her high school probably couldn’t stop gossiping about her downfall.

“Tell me why you’re here.” The doctor in the shiny white lab coat had an equally pearly grin. She pushed a tissue box her way.

“It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.” Mina pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up her nose. “I guess it all got to be too much.”

“Your parents said you were brave coming to them. They’re proud of you.”

“I wish I had talked to them earlier. The bullying was bad, the breakup hard, and it was all stressful, but the other stuff spiraled.”

“What do you mean?”

“The imaginary world with the elves.” Mina focused on the plant at the edge of the desk. “It all seemed real.”

“That’s a good place to start. Let’s explore what happened. There’s no judgment in this room. You can relax.”

She wanted that too, but her knees shook, and her leg refused to stop jumping up and down.

“How’s the journaling going?” the doctor asked.

“Fine.” Her gaze skipped around the room trying to find a focus, but all she saw were possible future sketches. Her pointer finger painted along her jeans, creating circles, ovals, and swirls.

“Tell me a little more. I asked you to put aside drawing and focus on writing down your thoughts and ideas to avoid confusing the real with the imaginary. Has it helped? Any misperceptions?”

“I let my imagination run wild in the past. I get it.”

“It’s much more complicated than that. It’s what we are going to try and figure out here.”

She understood everything the doctor was saying but missed Auralon so much and wanted to continue to sketch Callon, the pixies, Buddy, and the other world she longed to return to.

Her life here was a huge, hot, steaming pile of horse dung, and Mina had no idea what she was going to do about it.

*****

Session over, she walked back to her room, hand skimming the wall. It pulsed in response. A portion in front of her blurred and faded. A figure stood behind it.

The shadow held out its hand but then disappeared.

The wall solidified in front of her.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Lisa Acerbo is the Director of General Education and Liberal Arts at Post University. Her short stories and poetry appear in Scarlet, Sagebrush Review, Moonstone Arts, Poor Yorick Literary Journal, Ripples in Space, Universe in a Bottle by Flying Ketchup Press, Whatever Happened to Hansel and Gretel? by Fathom Publishing (a finalist in the 2024 Best Books Awards in the category of Fiction: Anthology), and Birds of Vermont Museum. When not writing, you can find her walking in the woods with her rescue dogs.

Website | Facebook | X | Instagram

   

Discover Jazz Bang Boom by Will Okati

Title: Jazz Bang Boom

Author: Will Okati

Cover Art: Bryan Keller

Genres: Action Adventure, Mystery /Suspense /Intrigue, New Releases, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Sci-Fi

Themes: Alternative Universe, Cyber-Punk, LGBTQ+ Gay, Second Edition

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 33

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Synopsis

Riot’s attempt to teach his pretty lover to behave himself doesn’t… quite… go as planned.

Jazz loves pretty things and things that go BOOM. Tyger, AKA Riot, is a man on a mission, searching for the bits and pieces that’ll repair his damaged, bio-constructed DNA. It only makes sense for the happily mismatched lovers to turn airship pirates and sneak, snatch or con what they need, right?

Right. One problem. Occasionally Jazz gets a little too fond of explosives, and Tyger gets a tad too focused on his quest. When that happens, they need to vent a little steam. So to speak.

Excerpt

Jazz Bang Boom
Second Edition
Will Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2026 Will Okati

T-minus sixty seconds. Really, it was bad manners to blow up a tea party, but some society dames were just asking for it. Jazz landed in the ornamental rose bushes outside his hostess's parlor window, gathered his heavy silk skirts around his knees, and ran like hell.

Not that he was worried. Jazz knew his explosives like he knew his way around the three-dimensional differential equations of a projected illusory field.

And wine. And perfume. What? Jazz prided himself on having layers.

He ticked off the seconds in his head, listening to an internal countdown. Right about now the aforementioned queens of "polite" society (and those who knew Jazz knew far better than to push a particular argument on behavior becoming to a lady and the mind-boggling double-standards that -- oh, anyway).

Jazz did enjoy traveling to different worlds and sampling the finest wines, velvets, songs and yes, incendiary devices from the thousands of cultures that flourished around the galaxies, but the next time his honey, Riot, wanted to spend time where good manners were forbidden in favor of good times? No thanks.

Where had he been? Oh, right. Crap! Cue the fine ladies screeching, coughing and sneezing, the last of a harmless fog floating out the window he'd helpfully, er, opened by jumping through, and they might have regained enough composure after the flash and bang that went with the smoke to have started complaining and oh, right.

Five, four, three, two --

Jazz managed to free himself of the pannier hoops just in time to dive under the cover of a cluster of almost-certainly-sacred ancient oak trees, before -- BOOM.

If a thing was worth doing, it was worth doing properly. "Proper." See what I did there?

This time, however, the dainty device of detonation had not been hidden in Jazz's decolletage (quite convincing cleavage, if he did say so himself). He'd set the charges long before smiling politely and pretending to enjoy a coin-sized cress sandwich in the ladies' salon.

BOOM.

There, that was the ticket! One for distraction, two to cause confusion to his enemies, e.g. the people in possession of A Thing Jazz Wanted, and a third to blow the ever-living fuck out of irritatingly secure locks that otherwise prevented his honey from wholesale liberation of a few deliciously prized goods.

POOF.

Oops. He'd forgotten the fourth bomb in the salon. Well, that one had been a bit spur of the moment. And a leetle more powerful. Enough to, say, jar loose some ripe pickings of his own, if he were lucky. All he needed to do was circle back around, and --

The discreet two-way comms device concealed in the cunning shape of a rosebud earring spoke to him. "Overkill, Jazz. Overkill."

"Spoilsport," Jazz said, and sneezed. "Let he who has never enjoyed the smell of C4 in the morning cast the first stone in a glass house."

"Excuse me?" The voice on the comms sounded amused. "You're high on adrenaline again, aren't you?"

"Pish, tosh, nonsense, and absolutely, yes. Perhaps that was overkill. Others could say I was in the wrong, but I can't blame me."

"You are a ridiculous man," the speaker said fondly.

"I know." Jazz preened. He sneezed again. "Tch. Plastique is one thing. Debris coated in dust is quite another. What about you, tick-tock man? Did you get what you came here for?"

"Stop calling me that," Riot said, quite clear -- even over the comms -- that he didn't mind in the least, and even had a soft spot in his heart for the nickname. "Yeah, I got what I needed. And then some. Wasn't easy to find and I had to pay a price, but it was worth it."

Jazz enjoyed a ripple's worth of goosebumps. He anticipated all sorts of good things once back on board the Sarah-Jessica-No-Parking. A triumphant Riot made for a feisty Riot with his blood running hot and his body all-systems-go. He employed the same affectionate tone when he replied, "Tell that to the watercress and unspiced kimchi I had to eat to make nice with my hostess."

"The one you just blew up?"

"Unspiced kimchi," Jazz repeated.

"The trials and tragedies you face, darlin'."

"Darn right. This piece of the puzzle you went after -- tell me about it," he coaxed.

"Later. For the moment --"

"Yes, yes. Run and keep running until you swoop in to save the day, and clear out of here before the smoke does?"

"You read my mind," Riot said, very dryly indeed but pleased. Almost purring.

Consider Jazz's curiosity piqued.

"I'm on my way." Such a tragedy, but the skirts had to go. Almost a full bolt of silk! Still, a man had to do what a man had to do, even when he'd tricked himself out in the finest of ladies' clothing.

Probably more so at such times. Hmm. He'd have to think about that more later. In the meantime, business. Beautiful, sparkly, gloriously shiny business! Jazz retrieved the pouches of more easily liftable and valuable trinketry from the panniers and pushed them into his reticule.

"Jazz? When I said run, that wasn't a suggestion."

Oh! Right. "And what'll you be doing while I skedaddle? How will I know if I'm being rescued by the right man?"

"I'll be the one dangling out of an airship with a rope and a half-cocked plan."

"Easily recognizable," Jazz said happily. Wait. "How long a rope? How high do the airships go?" Wouldn't exactly Be Done to whip off the 3-D fooler facade, and on this steampunk aficionado's wet dream of a world the airships he'd seen before had to go quite high indeed --"Riot? How high?"

"High enough I'll make it worth your while to man up and climb. And," Riot purred, "when I say 'worth your while' I mean, 'I plan to punish you, then fuck you three-quarters of the way through the nearest flat surface.'"

"I am so on my way now."

"Fast?"

"Darling, you have no idea." Jazz kicked off his heels. Not the shoes, mind, those gorgeous soft-supple open-calf boots of fawn-soft suede. Just the heels and pattens. "After all, who do you think you're talking to?"

Oh dear. Jazz heard a set of mastiffs on their way. Here I go again. Skirts, knees, running feet, check. Go time.

Fast.

Purchase at Changeling Press

Meet the Author

Will Okati (formerly known as Willa) has lived through a few Interesting Times, but come out the other side a little grayer, a little wiser, and ready to get writing. Still as passionate about coffee, cats, and crafts as ever, but knowing that to your own self you must be true. Also still one of the quiet ones to watch out for, but life -- like storytelling -- is always a work in progress.

Website | Facebook

Book Tour Stop & Giveaway: A Strange & Terrible Wonder by Nichole Louise

A Strange & Terrible Wonder
Nichole Louise
Publication date: August 18th 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical

Eleanor Dare, daughter of Roanoke’s Governor John White, has no choice but to accompany her overly ambitious husband Ananias and her idealist, yet inexperienced father to England’s new colony. Manteo of Croatoan wants nothing more than to cast off his association with the English and return home. Haunted by memories of an unexplainable event, he sets out to find the truth about what was brought to Roanoke by the English two years before as a weapon against the Spanish.

Based on real people who vanished from history, Eleanor and Manteo form a taboo friendship as they work against unseen forces to end the violent and otherworldly attacks upon the settlement. In the midst of this survival scenario, both Eleanor and Manteo—once powerless and marginalized in England, emerge as unlikely leaders of the ravaged colony.

Blending 16th century science, occult, and the impacts of early colonialism, A Strange and Terrible Wonder reimagines what became of the Lost Colony.

Goodreads / Purchase

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EXCERPT:

Prologue

“All down the church in midst of fire, the hellish monster flew, and passing onward to the quire, he many people slew.”

– Rev. Abraham Fleming, 1577

August 4, 1577
Bungay, England

At first, the congregants believe the slight rattling is only wind insisting upon the church door. A sudden summer tempest. Rain begins to patter above the nave, the sound not altogether unpleasant—soothing, even. A woman closes her eyes and exhales the stress of the morning as she focuses on the rhythm. Her peace is soon jilted by the growing tempest above, for the rain is now a wonderful force with no less violence than abundance. Her eyes snap open and roll to the vaulted ceiling. The great, forceful torrent empties above in what she imagines as glassy sheets pouring from the eaves. A low grumble of thunder. A child presses close to his mother. The two men kneeling at the altar do not flinch in their prayer; one for an abundant harvest season to pay his debts and another for a wife ailing in childbed.

Lightning flashes in brilliant brightness through the clouded, stretching windows. Silhouettes are carved out of the pews. A gust through the crack beneath the front door snuffs out the altar candles as if the tempest is compelling the congregants to sleep. They are all at once aware of the palpable darkness, so much so that one person cannot perceive another. The only light discerned by the congregants is not from the god hanging above them, but from the intermittent great flashing of fiery bolts.

The roar of the storm is so powerful now that the congregants shift with discomfort. A chill tightens the base of their spines as sweat springs on brows with each fearful heartbeat. The men kneeling in prayer do not relinquish their positions, though they see little, and their knees begin to ache against the flagstones. Instead, they press their eyes and hands tighter and pray now for the light to return. The only answer they receive is a terrible crack of thunder with such force and might that the congregants begin to believe doomsday has come.

The doors are thrown open as if by a blast of gunpowder. Lashing wind explodes down the nave, spraying hot rain onto the necks and backs of the congregants who dare not turn from the cross. The woman who had before held a moment of peace, presuming a gentle patter could not turn tempest, winces at the scalding sensation of boiling water against her bare skin. The church seems to quake and stagger as the scent of glowing iron, not unlike a blacksmith’s shop, permeates the darkened church.

The child clutches tightly to his mother when, amid twin lightning strikes, a great shape dashes down the nave toward the altar. The drops of rainwater on the flagstones sizzle as the thing passes in a hot rush of a blacksmith’s bellows. And with another flash of fire, the child sees it—they all see it: a great black dog with one ember glowing eye running with incredible haste. The woman muffles her scream as others bend beneath the flimsy pews as if a mere board of wood will save them from this devil.

The praying men feel great heat against their backs as if a bonfire has been lit before the altar. A sacrifice. Liquid fear runs down their legs, and still they dare not open their eyes nor pry their rigid hands apart. In another crack of thunder and lightning, the great black dog wrings both men’s necks backward in one clean instant. Its movement is so violent, so swift, that the dead men still kneel in prayer.

The child gasps when the lightning illuminates the whites of dead eyes in the heads bent unnaturally back. He buries his face in his mother’s skirts as her nails dig into his narrow shoulders. The beast turns on the congregation, its low growl indistinguishable from thunder, like a thousand carts moving across cobblestones. It stalks down the aisle, its bellows as hot as the summer sun’s rays. The congregants close their eyes against the darkness, press their slick palms together, and pray for their god to save them in his very house.

The beast chooses a man who dares glance up, for he believes he can slip out the door and escape this hell. Instead, the beast’s shining obsidian claws grip the man’s back in so forceful a manner that it is as if his entire body becomes drawn together and shrunk, as if it were a piece of leather scorched by hot fire. Wordless, he topples over with limbs trailing smoke.

The beast shifts into shadow, and the woman sitting next to the burned but still living man stumbles away from the charred flesh and wheezes for help. The rector, who has finally slid out of the shadows, catches her as she falls from the pew. He prays over her—whispering first, then increasing to test the roar around them. He exhorts the terrified congregants to prayer, and in their extreme distress, do so in darkness. The hot wind and scalding rain lash them, for the tempest has now fully invaded their sanctuary. Some congregants are frozen in terror, save their lips flapping desperate prayers, while others try in vain to crawl for the door.

In a flash, the beast materializes on the main beam above the congregants. Its searing talons set the old oak to smoldering as if coaxing a fire. Its ragged back chars the angel carved into the ceiling. The demon swings down through the church. Three lightning bolts follow the dog jumping from one man to another, then a lad, killing all three instantly. The dog dashes from the crumpled boy, and a deafening crack as if the earth has split in two cleaves the roof, and with it, the steeple. The cascade of stone rumbles down the side of the church, and for one striking moment of terror, a woman cries out that hell has opened to swallow the church whole.

The dog bounds for the next man. He dives away, yet not before his hand is burned by the scalding creature’s touch. In shock, the man lifts his charred hand to the burning sensation where his ear used to be. The creature blasts through the church doors, leaving a trail of scorch marks in the wood. The mischief thus wrought, the beast flies with wonderful force out of the churchyard in a hideous and hellish likeness.

Like a decimated forest in the aftermath of a windstorm, the congregants are left quivering. It’s clear to the man with the burned hand and missing ear that there are forces at work mightier than God, who could not protect his devout followers in His own house. Dazed, the man staggers out of the ruins with his compatriots. He looks to the rapidly clearing sky and resolves to find someone with knowledge of these unseen forces—and how to master them. A conjurer with the influence to pursue the arcane unhindered. What other reason could there be for such hell if not as a path to Providence for England? He will accept no other explanation.

Author Bio:

Nichole Louise is a speculative historical fiction writer and book reviewer (NicholeLouise.com). Raven Rock (2023), a prequel to The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, was recognized by Writer’s Digest, the Historical Fiction Company, and the CIBAs. Her articles and book reviews have appeared in the Journal of the American Revolution. Her second title, A Strange and Terrible Wonder (2026) is a historical folk horror tale exploring the Lost Colony of Roanoke. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, gaming, and volunteering at Philadelphia Animal Welfare Society.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram

GIVEAWAY!

A Strange & Terrible Wonder Blitz

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Book Tour Stop/Giveaway: The Call to Authorship by Tim W. Lindsay

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Tim W. Lindsay will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tours.

Embrace the call to authorship: 10 steps to leverage the power of a book!

Books help people—they inform, inspire, and engage. Books are also a powerful force for those who write them. Publishing a book builds your authority, sharpens your thinking, and opens doors to media exposure, speaking engagements, partnerships, and more.

Despite the greater accessibility of publishing than ever before, many would-be authors hesitate. They get stuck with self-doubt or believe producing a book is incompatible with a busy life. They may start writing but don't finish. Or they finish but don't publish or market their books.

The truth? With a little dedicated time, consistent effort, and the right guidance, anyone can publish a book that changes lives for the better. And they should.

Put down your phone. Take the leap from consumer to creator!

This step-by-step guide will show you how to:
- Use a one-page tool to clarify your goals, target audience and plan.
- Craft an outline that drives your manuscript forward.
- Overcome mental roadblocks and craft habits to finish your first draft in months, not years—even with a busy schedule.
- Select a publishing model, refine your manuscript, and make informed design and distribution decisions.
- Employ promotional strategies to achieve goals that transcend royalties.

Become more than you are. Have courage. Commit to growth by authoring a book, strengthening your ability to serve. Write with purpose. Publish for impact!

Bonus for book professionals: Special content for book coaches, editors, and ghostwriters—those helping ordinary people become extraordinary authors.

Read an Excerpt

We live in an age of swipes, scrolls and soundbites, where attention is fragmented and surface-level engagement is the norm. In such a world, choosing to sit down and write is bold indeed.

Writing a book is an act of meaning-making. It’s how we wrestle with ideas, make sense of experience, and speak into the noise with words that are considered and enduring. It takes courage to believe that your words matter. It takes character to see them through and shape them into a book.

That journey often begins with a spark. Maybe you’ve been through something, built something, learned something—and now you feel the quiet tug: This should be a book.

But with that tug often comes hesitation: Who am I to write this? Will anyone care? I’ve heard those doubts from countless aspiring authors through my work at Tellwell, where we’ve helped thousands turn that first spark into a finished book. And I’ve watched them write anyway. What followed was often extraordinary.

For Cindy Cherry, that moment came unexpectedly. For years she resisted writing a book about her father, Don Cherry, the outspoken hockey commentator who became a household name in Canada. She feared a memoir about her dad might seem biased, or worse, opportunistic. But everything changed when a Google Alert lit up her phone screen: a news organization was praising the Western Hockey League for cutting ties with Don following what she calls “Poppygate,” and for erasing his name from an organ-donation campaign he had helped champion, raising nearly half a million dollars. This cause was close to Cindy’s heart. As a teenager she had donated one of her kidneys to her younger brother.

She realized that the public narrative was being written in a way that dishonoured the man she knew and loved.

About the Author:

Tim Lindsay founded Tellwell in 2015. Since then, he and his team have guided some 5,000 authors including entrepreneurs, professional speakers, coaches, consultants, experts, course creators, community builders, religious and nonprofit leaders, Indigenous organizations, athletes, influencers, and everyday citizens.

Website: http://www.Tellwellpublishing.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tellwellpublishing/
Tellwell - YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@tellwellpublishing
Amazon: https://amazon.com/dp/1834180422

Enter to win a $10 Amazon/BN gift card.

Book Spotlight Tour Stop: This Never Happened

 

Title: This Never Happened

Author: Kent Heckenlively

Publisher: Manhattan Book Group

Publication Date: June 23, 2026

Pages: 403

Genre: Romance/Political Thriller

Formats: Paperback

Watch the Book Trailer at https://f.io/rLzZemf1.

Heidi Scherzinger is just a typical working girl in Chicago in 1972. Well, maybe not so typical. In fact, she's running Chicago's most successful independent call girl outfit when she's summoned to meet with Sonny Battaglia, the country's most powerful Mob boss.

The other local call girl agencies are complaining about her success, so Sonny offers her a deal: either she gets whacked, or she relocates to Washington, D.C., where she'll be working for the "Agency" under the control of the creepy Sidney Gottshalk, the resident blackmail specialist.

The Agency wants blackmail material on all the horny Democrats flooding the Capitol in the run-up to the presidential election, trying to defeat President Nicholas Dixon as he runs for a second term.

The always efficient Heidi quickly sets up a first-class operation, aided by the quietly competent Milton Greenbaum. What follows is a Florence Gump-style adventure through a 1970s Washington, D.C., that might be just a little different than the version you read about in your history books.

This Never Happened: A Call Girl in D.C. is available at Amazon.

BOOK EXCERPT

My Life Now – November 21, 2024

Most of those who’d want to kill me for telling this story are either dead or living in a nursing home.

I’m not dead, I’m not in a nursing home, but I am living in a “senior community.”

I’m the kind of woman you’ll often see is such a setting, teaching a morning and afternoon Pilates class, then checking out a lecture or play in the evening with her friends. I dress immaculately, my hair and makeup are always perfect, people often wonder if I’m in my mid-fifties or early sixties, (seventy-six, thank you very much) and truth be told, often getting propositioned by the Viagra crowd of men convinced they’ve still got it.

The truth is I’ve always loved sex and I’m pretty good at getting men and women to fall in love with me. But I’ve also mastered the art of convincing a person I’m fascinated by them, while at the same time remaining just out of reach. They know I’ll come and play for a few hours, especially if the money and conversation is good.

And there’s nobody better than me, man or woman, at listening to what the powerful are really saying while they’re trying to get me into bed, or do the commitment thing (no, thank you). That’s why I was on the payroll of the Agency for such a long time, although, truth be told, most of them are a bunch of psychotic morons.

You might call me a prostitute, call girl, hooker, or even a whore if you’re feeling particularly righteous, but I prefer the term courtesan.

Everything in life can be done poorly, or with style.

For example, President John Francis Fitzgerald did everything with a certain devil-may-care nonchalance, from bedding beautiful actresses to getting himself shot in Texas.

By contrast, President Nicholas Milhous Dixon could find the grey cloud on the

sunniest of days, and that partially explains how he went from winning the biggest landslide in American history to resigning in disgrace a year and a half later.

I say only partially, because there’s the part I played, that nobody’s ever really understood. You see, I’m the woman who’s been whispered about for years, the main player in the story you thought you knew, protected by forces more powerful than you can imagine.

But was it really my fault?

Maybe after fifty years it’s time to finally tell the story.

I’ll let you be the judge of whether I’m a hero or a villain.

– Excerpted from This Never Happened by Kent Heckenlively, Manhattan Book Group, 2026. Reprinted with permission.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kent Heckenlively is an attorney, science teacher, and two-time New York Times bestselling author. He is best known as coauthor of the Plague series - Plague, Plague of Corruption & Ending Plague) with Dr. Judy Mikovits and Dr. Francis Ruscetti, winner of the Distinguished Service Medal from the National Institutes of Health. His book, Plague of Corruption reached #2 on the New York Times Bestseller list in June of 2020, has sold more than 200,000 copies to date, and is being turned into a documentary narrated by Liam Neeson. Kent has published numerous non-fiction books, focusing on the tech sector, controversies in medicine, and media bias.

His most recent two books,Twilight of the Shadow Government and Catastrophic Disclosure, focus on government corruption.

This Never Happened is his third novel and reflects his belief that we all need a fun book for the summer. With more than 15,000 Amazon reviews, a 4.7 average ranking out of 5.0 stars, more than 750,000 of his books in print, critical praise from Kirkus Reviews, including a highly coveted, “Kirkus preferred review” for his book on interferon, as well as his books being translated into ten languages, Kent is quickly becoming a powerhouse in the literary world.

Visit his website at www.kentheckenlivelybooks.com.

Connect with him on X at https://x.com/KentHecken.