Book Tour Stop/Giveaway: Uprising by J. E. Rizzo

 

Uprising
J.E. Rizzo
(Fitzjohn Duology, #1)
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical

England, 1381 AD: Blanche Fitzjohn is an outcast in her small coastal village. Not only is she the illegitimate daughter of John of Gaunt, the man responsible for her neighbors’ over-taxation, but she possesses strange abilities: hearing sound from miles away and smelling people’s emotions.

She takes solace in her studies with the local wisewoman and in her friendship with Geoff, a groom at the local manor. Until the day Henry of Lancaster, Blanche’s half-brother, brings her news of an arranged marriage to Sir Thomas Prescott, Constable of the Tower of London. Although she smells cruelty on him, Blanche agrees to marry Thomas in the hopes that her influence may help better the lives of Geoff and all England’s villeins.

But soon, the peasants’ discontent turns to revolt. Though her heart is of the people, Blanche’s nobility makes her an enemy to the rebels. To save herself and Henry from the executioner’s ax, Blanche must use every power at her disposal, even those she once considered a curse.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

Something shifts, like summer’s green leaves transforming to autumnal gold. Speaking with Geoff about my marriage hurts like I’d never expected, a deep ache. The moon thrums, and an owl, perched in a nearby tree, shifts as she searches for prey. My temples throb.

“It seemed…” he begins again. “It seemed he didn’t want to marry you, after you…” I glare and cross my arms before lifting my face. He continues: “I thought perhaps you could get out of it because…”

“Because of what?”

“Because, ye’re…”

“What, Geoff, what am I?”

His mouth opens like a fish above water, and he doesn’t bother to shut it. In the tree, the owl flaps her wings and leaps into the air.

“Ye’re…” The tips of Geoff’s fingers flutter. “Well, I don’t know what you are, Dandy. Ye’re just…yerself. And I thought—”

“You thought he wouldn’t want me?”

His face falls. “He’s not like you, Dandy. That’s all. He’s not a good man. I heard him talking, when it was just the men…”

He drops his eyes and his cheekbones redden.

Neither of us seems to know what to say next. After a full minute of silence, he lurches forward and grasps my shoulders, crushing me to his chest. “Blanche, just consider.”

I gasp and have to steady myself. But within seconds, tears come to my eyes, along with a calming release of tension. I grip his forearms, inhale his familiar scent. He’s always smelled of horses, with a hint of bread dough and sugar from the manor kitchens he’s constantly raiding. There’s something different tonight. I sniff. It’s crisp, yet soft. Evergreens in winter, covered with fresh snow.

He buries his nose in my hair. “You could refuse,” he says, voice a gentle rumble against my face, “and stay with yer mother. She’d be angry, yes, but she wouldn’t throw you out. They can’t drag you to the church. For a marriage to be real, you must consent.”

Consent. The word ripples through me. It makes me see that I want more, from Maman, from my father, but most of all from Geoff. I need something I can’t identify, something I can’t express.

“If I marry Thomas…” My muffled voice breaks. “It will make the duke happy. He’ll…” I tense, regretting my words.

“He’ll what?”

I can’t answer, can’t tell him that by marrying Sir Thomas, I hope to earn my father’s love. To replace…something.

The moon moves behind a cloud and the trees shift, branches releasing a shower of rain. Geoff drops one hand to the small of my back and lifts the other to my cheek. His palms are warm, and I slide my own to clench his upper arms. When my fingertips brush hardened muscles, I almost snatch my hands back. Before tonight, I still thought of Geoff as a child, the lanky villein who could ride any horse, no matter how fierce. Now…my mouth goes dry, but I can’t resist running my hands up the length of his arms, letting them rest on his shoulders. The skin beneath his tunic is damp with sweat.

Corded muscles tense and stretch beneath my fingers, sending little jolts through me. He stoops, chin brushing my temple.

I touch the notch of his throat with my fingertips. He freezes. Tiny curls of dark hair peek above his collar, tickling my fingers. He lets his face linger on mine, and I feel him inhale.

A pleasant warmth spreads through my belly, then down. Something’s happening, something I don’t understand. I should run, should leave. But I don’t. Another breeze drifts through the tree branches, and he pulls me closer, pressing me to him.

I feel him, all of him, from feet to chin, in a way I never have. A tingling, heavy warmth settles on me, and I feel Geoff’s own need pressing against my belly.

It should make me uncomfortable, but I find myself pressing back, wanting more. Wanting it all.

I’m not well-versed in what happens between a woman and a man—that’s one area of my education Maman neglected—but I’m not completely ignorant. I know Geoff and I stand on a cliff, gazing into a deep ravine. One more step, and we’ll both be lost.

I’m still touching his throat, suspended in our odd dance beneath the shuddering tree branches, when he bends further. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation of his stubbly chin against my face. He exhales, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“Dandy…” he murmurs.

The owl swoops to snatch a mouse from the forest floor in sharp talons. Her screech is like a battle horn, ricocheting with painful deliberation in my skull, joined by the mouse’s squeal. My eyelids snap open and I step out of his embrace.

Author Bio:

J.E. Rizzo is a life-long history fanatic and writer of historical fiction whose work can be found in Vanity Fair, The Boston Globe, The Guardian, The Tudor Times, Tudor Life Magazine, Scary Mommy, and Ultrarunning Magazine. Additionally, her article, Past and Precedence: Abortion Law in the Middle Ages and Its Use to Overturn Roe v. Wade, won History Inquiry’s Medieval History Writing Challenge. Rizzo’s debut novel, Uprising, Book One of the Fitzjohn Duology, is forthcoming from Literary Wanderlust, and tells the story of Blanche Fitzjohn, a fourteenth century neurodivergent woman whose perceived disabilities become superpowers during England’s peasant uprising of 1381.

By day, Rizzo works in Human Resources—a field offering more than ample opportunity to observe the follies and fancies of humankind. Before her career in HR, Rizzo worked as an opera singer, a professional baker, and a dog walker. These days, when not writing she can be found running ultramarathons through the forests and mountains of New England, knitting, reading, sewing, baking, or performing any number of (what some might call) old-lady hobbies. She also keeps busing caring for her two children and forty-seven houseplants, making her husband carry heavy things and cook her gourmet meals, and rehabilitating her rescue dog and semi-feral ginger cat.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / X

GIVEAWAY!

Uprising Blitz

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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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Guest Author Day with Kelli A. Wilkins: Redemption from a Dark Past

 

Love Romances? Don’t miss… Redemption from a Dark Past

A Gothic Historical Romance from Kelli A. Wilkins

www.KelliWilkins.com

 

Hi everyone,

 

Today I’m sharing a look at the making of my Gothic historical romance, Redemption from a Dark Past.

When I sit down to write an historical romance, I never know where (or when) my story will take me. I’ve written romances set in the Old West (Lies, Love & Redemption), the Minnesota wilderness (Loving a Wild Stranger), Colonial Pennsylvania (Dangerous Indenture), and Celtic Scotland (The Viking’s Witch). Redemption from a Dark Past takes place in another unique locale, the Kingdom of Hungary.

For me, the setting conjures up images of brooding castles perched on treacherous mountaintops, tiny villages, medieval stone cities, vampires, and Prince Vlad. Although the book does not take place in Transylvania specifically, this atypical location appealed to me. It seemed like the perfect place for a Gothic novel filled with secrets, danger, deception, and superstition.

Right from the start, we meet Lord Sebestyen Adrik and learn that he’s a troubled hero who has hidden himself away in his isolated castle. He’s depressed, guilt-ridden, has an unsavory reputation, and is the subject of nasty rumors spread by superstitious villagers.

The heroine, Katarina, is feisty, clever, and anything but superstitious. She dismisses tales of evil spirits and ghosts, and doesn’t have time for old wives’ tales. She’s ambitious and wants to leave her pathetic job on the goat farm for better things. When she learns that she’s about to be forced into marriage to a much older man, she jumps at the chance to be Lord Adrik’s companion—despite all the terrifying stories she has been told. Katarina’s boldness and intelligence make her the perfect person to free Sebestyen from his dark past.

When I set about creating the mysterious Lord Adrik, I wanted to make him a flawed and sympathetic hero. He has two physical ailments (one most romance heroes never have – sorry, no spoilers!) as well as several psychological scars. And as if they weren’t enough problems, he also has a reputation as a murderer (among other things). At the start of the book, he has just about given up on life and any hope of being happy. By giving Sebestyen all this “baggage” I made him vulnerable and provided him with lofty goals to reach.

As I wrote, I added layers of secrets, built suspense, and created numerous plot twists and turns. Readers follow Katarina’s adventures and are not sure what—or who—to believe. Can Magda the surly, gossiping cook be trusted? How did Lady Adrik die? Is the castle really haunted? What happened to Lord Adrik’s previous companions? Are the rumors about him true? Katarina is left alone with Sebestyen every night, should she fear for her safety? Everyone says she should!

Over the course of the book, Katarina draws Sebestyen out of his shell, and just when she thought she knew him, she uncovers a disturbing secret he’s been hiding from her. Katarina tries to make sense of it all, while following her heart.

Not everyone in this story is exactly what (or who) they seem to be, and this adds another level of mystery and intrigue to the book. Combining all these elements into a sensual, Gothic romance was a lot of fun, and I hope readers will enjoy this trip into “the Dark Lord’s lair.”

Here’s the book summary and buy link:

Redemption from a Dark Past

Lord Sebestyen Adrik has an unsavory reputation as a madman, murderer… and worse. Lonely and searching for love, he seeks the companionship of local young women, hoping one of them will ease his torment and bring him the happiness he longs for. Katarina is his last chance—but will she fear him like all the others? Or is she the one who can lift his curse?

Desperate to avoid a forced marriage, Katarina agrees to become Lord Adrik’s latest companion, despite the rumors she has heard about him. She discovers the “Dark Lord’s” secret past and realizes he’s not the monster everyone thinks he is.

As their love blossoms, she renews his passion for life—yet they cannot escape the ghosts of the past.

When a meeting of the nobility goes horribly wrong, Sebestyen’s world unravels, and his enemies plot to destroy him. As all seems lost, a mysterious stranger arrives at the castle. Sebestyen must decide if he is a friend or a foe…and if he can find redemption in his love for Katarina, or lose her and everything else that he holds dear.

* * *

Order Redemption from a Dark Past and read reviews here: https://www.kelliwilkins.com/redemption-from-a-dark-past

I hope you enjoyed this inside look at the making of Redemption from a Dark Past. I welcome comments and questions from readers. Be sure to follow my blog for the latest updates and visit me on social media!

Happy Reading,                                                   

Kelli A. Wilkins

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kelli A. Wilkins is an award-winning author who has published more than 100 short stories, 24 romance novels, and 9 mystery/thriller/horror ebooks. Her romances span many genres and settings, and she likes to scare readers with her horror, mystery, and thriller fiction.

Her latest book, The Route 9 Stalker, was published in January 2026. This mystery/thriller is set in Central NJ and follows Detective Jim Rourke on a disturbing new case. Meet him for the first time in The Route 9 Killer.

Kelli's 24th romance, For Love’s Sake, an epic historical/fantasy romantic adventure, was published in January 2025.

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In 2024, she released Surreal Escapes, a collection of 7 speculative/spooky stories. Anything can—and does—happen in this anthology.

Follow Kelli on her Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorKelliWilkins and visit her website/blog www.KelliWilkins.com for a full title list, social media links, and more.

 

 

Tour Stop: One Foot in the Ether: Whispers of the Pendle Witches

  

Powerful bloodlines tied by Fate, who can’t be free even in death...

 

Title: One Foot in the Ether: Whispers of the Pendle Witches

Author: Kayleigh Kavanagh

Publisher: Independent

Pages: 400

Genre: Historical/Paranormal/Fantasy

Format: Kindle

Demdike and Chattox, famed witches of Pendle Forest, might be dead, but they’re not gone. Bound to their bloodline, they’ve spent the past two and a half centuries watching over their descendants, waiting for when they’ll be needed. 

When 14 year old Yana comes into her psychic abilities and inherits the ‘eyes of the Chattox family’, she can see the long-dead witches, as well as an encroaching evil. But even with this foreknowledge, she’s trapped by marriage interviews and being unable to see her own future, and more importantly, whoever her future husband will be. 

Demdike’s healing gifts are alive and working in Claire, a mid-30s midwife well renowned for her skills and holding her tongue. The Secrets of Pendle are safe with her and her midwives. However, when surgeons looking to make standardisation the norm encroach on her territory, she soon realises how, even a respected woman is vulnerable in a patriarchal system. 

The two descendants must come together to protect the ones they love from an ancient evil, all whilst balancing their lives and the cruelties of being a woman in a man’s world. Set in late 1800s NW England, this book has all the elements of the area: strong, hardy people, atmospheric horror and days as unpredictable as the weather.  

One Foot in the Ether: Whispers of the Pendle Witches is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt

She hadn’t known what to expect from death. No one did. Still, none of her previous thoughts could have come close. This, and she was definitely having an atypical experience. For most souls, death was a release from the mortal coil. Complete separation from the life they’d once lived. She hadn't been so lucky. 

Some parts of the system had been the same. Her soul had been scooped up. Taken somewhere. She vaguely recalled going over her life and having events explained. Gaining an understanding of the why; to the point she was no longer angry about things which had once made her furious. However, the entire encounter was now a blur. 

The powers that be had done this on purpose, but the awareness lingered instinctively. Either way, she knew she'd died, gone to the other place, and then thrown back. Before they could send her along to wherever she should have gone next. There'd been an issue. A snag. One which stopped her from moving along to the happy, bliss-filled world of the nether realm. Said snag bore one name: Chattox. Even in death, her frenemy was still causing her bloody issues.

“Hey, Demdike, how’s non-life treating you?”

Demdike didn’t answer, suddenly filled with the desire to bludgeon the other woman. However, she knew from experience it would be pointless. They weren’t physical beings any longer—even if they were still tied to the physical world. Unless she was willing to destroy the other's soul, the spirit could reform. A tempting idea some days; this non-life was enough to make even the most patient saint a little homicidal. However, even in her worse moments, she wasn't willing to land the final blow.

“The same way it’s been treating me for the past two and a half hundred years,” she eventually returned. Still not looking at the other, less she finally indulged her violent impulses.

“They’re having a bake sale soon, at the local church. Gods, I miss cake.”

Demdike sighed. The sad part was she couldn’t even get rid of the other. Without Chattox, she would be entirely alone in this exhausting existence.

“Their cake isn’t anything like the one we used to have. They have more access to sugar, for starters.”

Demdike wasn’t even going to comment on the reasons why. King James I's and his ilk had done more than destroy her life. Stretching his greedy grip across the world. From the supposed lands of gold to the continent of darkness, James I's influence had impacted many. She couldn't help but feel for the poor souls stolen from these other countries. Their plights differed from the witch trials, but suffering was a universal language.

She would've liked to aid them, but she couldn't even help herself. There was no one to hear her, anyway. Well, other than Chattox, but as she was in the exact same situation. It was no different than voicing her words to the void. Except the void didn’t reply. 

“Aye, I know, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss the little pleasures. Few and far between, though they were.”

Demdike hummed. This was a conversation they’d had many times. When their new existence was mostly just the two of them, they often spoke of their past. Their past life, to be specific. A lot of it seemed funny now. Maybe it was their time in the decompression zone post life—or maybe it was simply the effect of being so removed from what they’d once been—but matters of life and death were suddenly much less dramatic and far funnier when you were already dead. Fighting over coin, linens, and food were memories they could now look back on and find humour in. 

Though she also missed cake, death was a lot simpler. Mostly. There was no fighting for survival when you simply just were. No hunger to push you forward or pain to keep you still. As much as she’d once lived with one foot in the ether, having both on death's side was much simpler. If you ignored the limited company. Or how she feared her own mind and sense of self were slowly eroding over time. As though, without a physical body, she was slowly dispersing into nothingness; it was just taking a little longer.

– Excerpted from One Foot in the Ether: Whispers of the Pendle Witches by Kayleigh Kavanagh, Kayleigh Kavanagh, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

Author Interview with Kayleigh Kavanagh

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

I love stories. This is important because I don’t mind what format they come in — books, poetry, songs, films, podcasts — I love the content, not the medium. Writing is a natural way to tell stories and, as such, has caught my heart. I hesitate to call myself a writer or an author and think of myself more as a storyteller.

My brain is filled with stories, and I one day plan to get them all out onto the page.

I’m disabled through illness, which can make writing (and thinking in general) challenging. However, I love it, and even though I’m stuck in my room and writing from my bed, I keep going because this is a true passion of mine. Hopefully, this comes across to the reader.

Can you tell us about your latest book, One Foot in the Ether: Whispers of the Pendle Witches?

I like to think it’s a little unique in the magical realism/fantasy realm. It’s familiar enough for people to follow, but with a unique premise that should engage the reader. It’s historical fiction, which gives another layer of atmosphere to the book. The story features magic, spirits, reincarnation, and old gods, which appeals to those who love all things paranormal.

It’s set in the north of England (Pendle), and the living characters still have to navigate their everyday lives, despite dealing with things in the ether.

One of my favourite parts was exploring the family dynamics and relationships, particularly between the women. From those connected by blood to those who choose to consider others family. I enjoy exploring these connections. Of found family and those you’re born with. With such strong personalities, it was a challenge to find the right balance, but I think they all stand out brilliantly.

Is One Foot in the Ether: Whispers of the Pendle Witches your only book?

No, it’s the 2nd book in its series, but also the fifth book I’ve published.

Can you tell us a little about the main characters in One Foot in the Ether: Whispers of the Pendle Witches?

Demdike and Chattox were part of the original story, but as so much has changed for them, they as people have naturally evolved.

Yana and Claire are new characters in the series, but there is a twist revealed later, which means they aren’t as new as they appear.

They’re the descendants of the Pendle Witches and have powers during a time when the cunning folk, and those who would have taught them, have all but been eradicated. This is on top of their general life problems, and trying to navigate a patriarchal society as women.

Do you see a little bit of yourself in your main character?

Maybe a little in Demdike’s deadpan humour, but no, there’s little similarities.

Where is this book set and why did you choose that location?

England in the latter half of the nineteenth century. I initially wanted to have the book in 1812, two hundred years after the trials, so it would be halfway between the next book (2012). However, as I was doing research, I realised just how much England advanced under Queen Victoria, and it made more sense to have the period later than I’d first thought.

What’s the best advice you can give to aspiring authors?

A little cliche, but just write. You’ll never get better if you don’t. You’ll never get all those stories out of your head if you don’t start putting words on a page. Those big scenes which stick in your mind need the rest of the plot to make sense. Just do it. Know some of what you write will be terrible, but it needs to get out of you so you can get to the good stuff. Keep at it.

Thank you so much for this interview, Kayleigh. What’s next for you?

More writing, hopefully. This and learning more about marketing, so I can reach more readers.

About the Author

 

Kayleigh Kavanagh is a disabled writer from the North-West of England. Growing up in the area, she learnt a lot about the Pendle Witches and launched her debut novel around their life story. Her main writing genres are fantasy and romance, but she loves stories in all formats and genres. Kayleigh hopes to one day be able to share the many ideas dancing around in her head with the world.

Her latest book is the historical fantasy, One Foot in the Ether: Whispers of the Pendle Witches. 

You can visit her on Facebook, Instagram, Goodreads and Tiktok.

Sponsored By:

Discover Death & Coffee today and Enter the Giveaway!!

Title: Death and Coffee

Author: Lisa Acerbo

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 10/14/2025

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 362

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, paranormal, historical, urban fantasy, bisexual, lesbian, Death, reaper, witches, Salem

Add to Goodreads

Description

The end is a new beginning for Prudence. After witnessing her mother’s wrongful conviction as a witch in 1661 and wishing for death, she gets just what she asks for when recruited. In her new job as a reaper, Prudence must learn to navigate the delicate balance between the living and the soon-to-be-deceased. However, her duties as a harbinger of souls are only the beginning of her trials as she makes her way as an immortal through the centuries. With nothing else to care about, Prudence excels on the job, even with an ill-tempered horse demon to keep fed and jealous coworkers vying for her downfall.

Love arrives for this reaper with one of her soon-to-be-dead clients. Prudence is instantly smitten with hospital doctor Daxone, defies Death to save the woman, and pursues her desires. Unfortunately, immortals shouldn’t love humans. Worse, revealing Death’s secrets gets the couple banished to purgatory. Prudence settles in only to be yanked away to Salem, Massachusetts. Once there, she is forced to deal with another of Death’s deadly problems. Thrust into a world of witches and dark magic, Prudence must harness her innate powers and confront a coven plotting to overthrow Death. With the world’s fate and her lover’s life hanging in the balance, she must find her magic and understand her past to keep the love of her life and the entire planet alive.

Excerpt

Death and Coffee
Lisa Acerbo © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Hartford, Connecticut, 1661

A frigid wind slashed the outside of the building but the chill inside the dimly lit wooden church had little to do with the temperature. In the thick press of bodies, the smell of fear and anger assaulted my nose.

“Pray, pardon me.” I wormed my way deeper inside. Not a single compassionate glance or “Good morrow” came my way. The people who sat sermon with me and greeted me on the pathway a few days ago averted their gaze, tone hushed.

My father, coward, refused to attend the trial. Earlier in the morning, I’d asked him to bear witness to this day, but he claimed to be too ashamed of his family, meeting my gaze purposefully with his own.

When most attendees had seated themselves, jammed together on benches like barnacles, the minister glowered and declared, “It’s time.” He pointed. “Repent your wicked and reviling acts for your soul’s salvation.”

My mother hunched in the gloom, halfway hidden behind a burly guard. The man’s hand crushed her slight shoulder before she slid to the ground like a rag doll, exhaustion and pain creeping over her face and frail body. The audience gasped but for reasons other than the jailer’s brutality. They believed her collapse proved the devil.

The preacher hammered my mother with his words. “There is light in the darkness, Martha. Be repentant for the sins of your life. Ask forgiveness from God. Admit the devil afflicted you and commanded you to unleash wickedness on our community, and your soul can be free in death.”

“I’ve done nothing.” Mother’s gaze found mine in the last pew. Her once beautiful auburn hair, which rarely strayed from its cap, fell lank and greasy around her face.

“You have been a practitioner of poisoning in hand and deed, but in God’s house, no devil has power.” The minister’s voice boomed; his chin raised to the heavens. “It is the only way to possible salvation.”

Blinking back the tears forming, I knotted my hands. “Please stop this. I promise my soul, my life, anything demanded of me.” No one heard my whisper of pain. “If you exist, show yourself and give this horrible congregation something to fear.”

Those prayers elicited no response from the heavens. The two small, low-set windows failed to remove the shadows and darkness extending beyond the rafters and into the congregation.

“God will cast the wicked into Hell. He can most easily do so, and you will be next unless you tell the truth before all your brethren in attendance.”

His words were drowned in a cacophony of outrage from the spectators who packed the pews for this horrible show.

I stepped forward.

An almost imperceptible shake of my mother’s head slowed my feet.

Last week, on the only occasion Father allowed me to visit Mother in jail, she’d begged me to avoid her, fearing for my life. Heart empty, I had questioned if there was life waiting for me with her gone—she, the only person who loved me in this world. Her tormented sobs made me regret those words.

Clamoring voices thickened the air as her trial dragged. Someone in town had to stand up for her. Instead, the crowd grew louder and angrier. Few still loved and wished to protect her. And, no doubt, my former friends would happily turn me over to the minister if I said or did anything here.

Rumors about my mother started in the late summer. After church one day, our neighbor Bridget complained of stomach pains. My mother had sent me to her house with tea, but the herbs meant to help had only made it worse.

In Hartford, Connecticut, when a problem occurred, everyone prayed, but prayers often didn’t reach heaven, and divine intervention seldom arrived. My mother and her knowledge of natural remedies had been a quiet aid to the community for years. No one had said a word against it.

Even my father had allowed it.

However, Bridget’s condition worsened, and a fever struck her the day after she drank the tea. Not a week later, she died, arms and legs flailing without consent, screams of pain echoing from her house for all to hear. My mother had been restricted to our home first, then jailed until her trial.

Bridget’s death brought rumors of witchcraft to my door, and now, not even six months later, shouts of anger and fear assaulted the walls and my ears.

“You deserve to be cast into hell.” The words heaved from my neighbors like boulders. “Witch. Devil’s spawn.”

My mother’s desperate glance revealed the true horror of the ordeal; a stark contrast to the minister next to her and the pudgy magistrate who sat high on a bench, shrouded in black robes and stern expressions.

Bridget’s friends and family stood and faced the crowd as they recounted her illness and the supposed potion my mother provided that led the girl first to the devil and then to death.

It had only been dandelion tea. I’d helped prepare the draught, but fear of the community and that I’d be next to my mother in jail clamped my lips shut.

The flickering candlelight turned the magistrate, perched on his bench by the altar, into a demon. This man had been a guest in our home not only to share the word of God but to ask my mother for a cure for his headaches.

“You’re accused of witchcraft,” he said. “How do you plead?”

“I’m innocent. I never practiced witchcraft. I swear it on my soul.” My mother turned to Bridget’s parents when the room had quieted. “I’m no witch. I swear by all that is Godly. I’m innocent of all you proclaim.”

Charity, a friend of Bridget’s, spoke. “She bewitched Bridget and made her suffer. All should have witnessed the horror of her last moments. Her lips fumbled to make a sound, teeth gnashing and mouth foaming. Her body trembled and shook before her limbs flailed, unable as she was to control them.”

“Do you deny the accusations of witchcraft against you?” the magistrate asked.

“I’m a God-fearing woman, and I’ve harmed no one.”

My push forward parted air thickened with tension and sweat.

“The evidence against you is abundant,” the magistrate said. “You’re wicked. A consort with the devil. All to spell innocent people. Your potions and teas are well known in town. You deserve to be cast thither. Under the law of a righteous God, your eternal soul shall be condemned to hell.”

“I have done nothing wrong other than use what God has provided in nature. I’m innocent. This I swear in His name.”

The crowd reared like the head of a snake, the hiss loud and damning.

I bit my thumbnail to hold back a scream, and an iron tang met my tongue.

“Do not profane his name.” The magistrate called the minister over, and their conversation lasted less than a minute, but it felt like an eternity.

“You’ve been found guilty of witchcraft. The sentence of the court is death by hanging. Let this be a warning to all. The devil stands ready to seize our souls as his own.”

“I’ll die guiltless.” My mother yelped when the guard squeezed her arm to silence her.

The crowd held me back. Their slurs stalled me as much as their bodies. As they herded me out of the church, I reached out to touch my mother but stumbled as those gathered pressed back to the jail. My cry filled the air, unable as I was to offer support.

The sting of my last chance at a goodbye nettled.

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.

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Book Spotlight Tour Stop and Giveaway: Arabesque by MG da Mota

 

Check out MG da Mota's Arabesque today and make sure to enter the tour wide giveaway asOne randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $25 Amazon/BN.com gift card. The tour is sponsored by Goddess Fish Promotions and you can check out all the tour stops HERE.

Talking with MG da Mota

What are your favorite TV shows? I like mystery stories or detective stories with interesting characters, for example The Mentalist. I love historical, period series too, like adaptations of novels by classic authors. I also enjoy documentaries about Nature, history, classical music, opera, ballet and composers’ lives.

What is your favorite meal? Prawns cooked in any way, especially in tomato sauce with garlic and rice.

If you were to write a series of novels, what would it be about? I don’t know. I never thought about writing a series. I’ve written a trilogy but writing a series has never interested me. I like to do different things each time. I think a series would bore me and if there is something I hate is boredom.

Is there a writer you idolize? If so who? I admire many writers but I don’t idolise any of them. Present day author I greatly admire is Cay Rademacher. From the past, Victor Hugo and Jane Austen.

How did you come up for the title of this book? The novel’s plot is set against the background of ballet and it is a celebration of ballet. So, the title had to be something pretty, catchy and related to the art. ARABESQUE is a step in classic ballet, one of the most beautiful, striking and elegant therefore I thought it was appropriate. The drawing of a dancer on the centre of the cover shows him executing an arabesque.

What group did you hang out with in high school? I grew up in Portugal and the schools were not called high schools. I think that may be an American term. Anyway, at the time there was a so-called grammar school for people who wanted to go to University and do a degree and a secondary school for people who were more interested in pursuing a medium diploma or a profession, for example if they wanted to become an electrician, a cook, etc. I never had a group I hung out with at school. I had some really good friends and got along with others that weren’t close friends but were okay.

What are you passionate about these days? I’m passionate about the same things I always was: writing, reading, classical music, opera, ballet, history and travelling. I like to be informed and I am interested in politics. I find rather worrying the generic turn to the extreme right-wing parties and politicians that we are witnessing in many countries around the world. Having grown up under a fascist dictatorship in Portugal that lasted 48 years and fell when I was fifteen, I understand the value of democracy and freedom and it pains me to see the lack of awareness in many younger people who didn’t live through such an experience.

If you had to do your journey to getting published all over again, what would you do differently? I’m not sure I would do anything differently. I’m happy with what I’ve achieved and where I am right now.

E-book or print? And why? I think there is space for both. Print books have a different feeling. You can touch the paper, smell it and you can make a print book look beautiful. You can’t really do the same with an e-book, however, the easiness of buying e-books from all over the world and having them within minutes in your reader is a wonderful thing, as is the space it saves you and the practicality of taking many books with you when you travel without having to worry about weight and space in your bags. I read in both formats. I love my kindle for the reasons stated about e-books but I love print books too. If I buy reference books for research I prefer them in print format. It’s easier to consult several at the same time, look at pages and take notes.

What is your favorite scene in this book? I have various in this book but to name just two, I’d say 1) it’s the scene when Amadeus attempts to escape East Germany with his daughter in the early 1970s because of the emotional punch, tension and intensity. And 2) the scene where the two modern day principals (lead characters Karsten and Ivone) are rehearsing for the ballet Don Quixote because it shows the commitment, the difficulty, the passion and the beauty of it all.

 ARABESQUE

Author: MG da Mota

GENRE:  historical psychological drama

A woman living alone in a coastal Sussex town in 1998 plants a copper beech sapling at 3 a.m. on a dark, cold night. Why? 

A ballet dancer in 1960s East Germany is oppressed, longs for escaping with his little daughter but not his wife. Why? Will he make it? 

In 2022 Karsten von Stein, widower and principal of the Royal Ballet, with two young children, meets Ivone Benjamim, a Portuguese, newly-arrived principal dancer. They discover a magical chemistry when dancing and soon it transfers to their private lives. 

Against the background of ballet and its dancers, a woman called Grace tells her story from a rehab centre. Obsessive, delusional she begins believing Ivone robbed her of the man of her dreams—Karsten. And then a skeleton is found in a garden...What connects all these people and their stories? 

You’ll be the audience facing the stage of this balletic novel.

  Teaser Excerpt:

Prologue

Southeast England, late November 1998

 

She looks out of the window. Dark night. Black but clear. Twinkling dots punctuate the raven velvet of the sky. Stars shimmer cold and icy. Their light slightly wavering. She knows it is the Earth’s atmosphere. But that’s neither here nor there. It doesn’t matter a jot. Not at this moment anyway.

 

Darkness is the important thing. No moon. New moon. Why do people refer to a new moon when there is no moon or when one cannot see the moon from our revolving, ever turning blue dot? The moon is still up there in the sky. It’s just that at some point during its orbit its farther side from us is facing the sun. So the side facing us is dark and we can’t see it. As simple as that.

 

Tonight is new moon. An ideal night. She opens the window quietly and glances at the houses to her right first, then to her left. Like hers they are all immersed in silent darkness. People sleep. She looks at the luminous hands of her alarm clock on the side table. The shorter hand points at the number three, or close to it, and the long hand at somewhere between ten and fifteen. Probably around 3:12 in the morning. Her house stands almost but not quite alone on top of the hill. To her right, looking from her bedroom window that faces the back garden, there are two houses. The one closest to hers is empty.

  

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AUTHOR Bio and Links: 

MG da Mota is Margarida Mota-Bull’s pen name for fiction. She is a Portuguese-British novelist with a love for classical music, ballet and opera. Under her real name she also writes reviews of live concerts, CDs, DVDs and books for two classical music magazines on the web: MusicWeb International and Seen and Heard International. She is a member of the UK Society of Authors, speaks four languages and lives in Sussex with her husband. Her website, called flowingprose.com, contains photos and information. 

Website: https://www.flowingprose.com/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/m.g.da.mota 

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/margarida-mota-bull/ 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mgdamota/

 

Tour Stop/Giveaway: A Murder of Convenience by Kathleen Buckley

 

Check out the new book from Kathleen Buckley, A Murder of Convenience, today and make sure to enter the tour wide giveaway where Kathleen Buckley will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Also  make sure to stop in on the other tour stops for more chances to enter this giveaway. All tour stops are HERE and the tour is sponsored by Goddess Fish Promotions.

A MURDER OF CONVENIENCE

AUTHOR: Kathleen Buckley

GENRE:  Historical Mystery

Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/3L2RGJ

Ellen Cuthbert’s husband, Randolph, is now the Earl of Keswick’s heir. Their marriage is a sham, and Randolph’s mistress, Lydia, is present at the house party. When she is found murdered in a locked room, all the evidence seems to point to Ellen. And how could the murderer have escaped the locked room except by witchcraft? Sir Hugh accompanies his cousin, a magistrate, to the scene of the murder. They investigate, appalled to find their childhood friend Ellen appears to be the chief suspect. Hugh’s lack of prospects years ago prevented their marriage. Now if he cannot find the real murderer, there may be only one final service he can perform for Ellen to spare her a slow death at the end of the hangman’s rope. 

Excerpt Two: 

Wallace’s response to whatever news her husband’s uncle had imparted carried. “Good! You can supply a wagon or cart and driver to take it to Penrith?” Another few words, apparent agreement, and he sketched a bow to the earl. Had they been talking about the body? Randolph’s face revealed nothing.

 

“My lord, ladies, gentlemen, I must beg your indulgence. There is someone Sir Hugh and I must speak with immediately,” Wallace said. “We will begin your interviews as soon as we can.”

 

The earl nodded curtly and departed.

 

Sir Hugh, now; his father and his older brother must have died.

 

Cuthbert drawled, “Need we be confined here while you take some servant or menial out of order?”

 

 “Yes, I fear you must, as Lord Keswick wishes this matter dealt with in the most expeditious manner. To do so, my colleague and I must attend upon the doctor—”

 

 “Why, if she’s dead?”

 

Wallace replied more peaceably than Ellen would have managed, but then, she had had years of Cuthbert’s ways. “So that we can get his immediate impressions, which may help us direct our investigation. And our work will be needlessly slowed if we have to have you and his lordship’s other guests sent for.”

 

He turned to approach Ellen, who prayed he would not address her informally.

 

 “Mistress Cuthbert, I must beg your patience and ask you to wait for me in the Yellow Parlor. I do not expect to be long. A footman will escort you there.”

 

“Certainly, sir.” She curtsied and started for the door. Randolph continued to sprawl in his chair.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links: 

One day after coming home from first grade, Kathleen Buckley set about writing her own dictionary but quickly realized it would take too much time, so she read a book instead. Possibly Space Cat.  

After a career which included customer service, light bookkeeping, working as a paralegal, and a stint as a security officer, she began to write as a second career, rather than as a hobby. Her first historical romance was written after re-reading Georgette Heyer’s Georgian/Regency romances for the tenth or twelfth time and wondering if she could do something like that. Apparently she could, as her eleventh will be released on 3/24/2025. As a change of pace, it’s a murder mystery, but still set in the mid-1700s (but still with some romance). 

Warning: no bodices are ripped in her romances, which might be described as "powder & patch & peril" rather than Jane Austen drawing room. They contain no explicit sex, but do contain the occasional den of vice and mild bad language, as the situations in which her characters find themselves sometimes call for an oath a little stronger than "Zounds!" 

https://18thcenturyromance.com/   (website)

https://www.instagram.com/18thcenturyromance/

https://www.facebook.com/pg/anunsuitableduchess/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/270998.Kathleen_Buckley

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/kathleen-buckley

https://www.amazon.com/stores/Kathleen-Buckley/author/B072J2GPZ3

https://www.pinterest.com/kathleengailbuc/

https://writing-on-el-camino-real.blogspot.com/

https://www.amazon.com/author/kbuckley      (Author page)

 

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