Release Blitz & Giveaway: Three Shades Called Horace

 

Three ghosts.

One psychic.

Zero patience for corporate greed.

A hilarious, fast-paced romp through the supernatural underbelly of the Isle of Man!

Three Shades Called Horace

Witchery, Trickery, Love & Serendipity

by Jinx James

Genre: Humorous Paranormal Thriller

 

"delightfully twisted...offbeat supernatural romp" Amazon Review ★★★★★

"A unique and hilarious story with a lot of twists and awesome revenge. I loved the ending!" Amazon Review ★★★★★

They have the magic, the visions, and the afterlife on their side. But will it be enough to stop an ROI Reaper of the airwaves from hostilely taking over their dream?

Their "Super Moon Show" is the viral hit of the year. Too bad the stars are all dead.

Pansy Peonie is a psychic with a problem. Actually, three problems, and they’re all called Horace. As the host of the world’s craziest paranormal livestream, she spends her nights herding her team of opinionated ghosts and her days trying to keep her witch mother from accidentally summoning something worse.

But when you’re the top-rated supernatural show on the internet, you don't just attract spirits—you attract sharks.

Enter Rollo Mansell: a ruthless media mogul who doesn't care about the afterlife unless he can monetise it. He wants the show. He wants the ghosts. And he’s not above using a little corporate necromancy to get what he wants.

Now, Pansy is caught in a high-stakes tug-of-war between the living and the dead. To save her show—and her skin—she’ll have to outmanoeuvre a billionaire, survive a voodoo conspiracy, and figure out if Rollo’s assistant, Max, is actually on her side.

Featuring a new cover and a tighter, more suspenseful edit, this revised edition of Three Shades Called Horace will keep you on the edge of your seat, while laughing uncontrollably.

If you love fast-paced paranormal suspense with sharp wit, mysterious secrets, and un

forgettable characters, dive into the newly polished edition of Three Shades Called Horace ]

 

**Celebrate the relaunch and get it FREE until Oct 3rd!!**

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Guest Post with Jinx James:

THE SETTING FOR MY BOOK:

 

One of my favourite authors, Lawrence Durrell, wrote a series of novels set in the Greek Islands.  In one, he talks about an odd condition called Islomania. Some people find being on islands irresistible. As he put it, it “fills them with an indescribable intoxication.”

Confession time. I’ve always been one of those people.

Yes, I’ve spent a lot of time on quite a lot of islands too; from Corfu to Lord Howe Island to Anguilla, San Andrés and Puerto Rico plus a good few in between. And to round it off, now I even live on an Australian island called Tasmania! You’ve probably already spotted the hidden “mania” bit - and that brings us quite neatly to my Jinx James book entitled, THREE SHADES CALLED HORACE: Witchery, Trickery, Love & Serendipity.

 

It’s a paranormal, nutty-comedy crime thriller that mostly takes place on the Isle of Man, where (sorry) I also spent a bit of time in my misguided youth. It’s the kind of place where every time you cross the Fairy Bridge you have to say hello to the fairies. You wouldn’t dare not to acknowledge them! I met a psychic there too. The IOM is and always has been one of those fascinating super-witchy places. It’s set in the middle of the Irish Sea, where lots of weird things still always seem to keep on happening.

 

In my story, there’s a white witch, Fenella, and her daughter, Pansy, a medium (our heroine).

But first you’ll meet our Hero, Max, our villain, Rollo, and a nutty cast, including the stars of our show, the THREE SHADES CALLED HORACE.

Here’s just a taste of the opening scene, set in London:

 

“Max is in the chauffeur-driven vintage Bentley car of his autocratic boss, media mogul Rollo.

          ‘Shades did you say?’ says Rollo. ‘What the hell are they?’

Max switches neatly over to his ice-cool “can-do” mode. His boss always likes that.

‘Won’t be a sec sir, I’ll just verify the exact definition of ‘Shades’ for you.’ he says, fiddling with his phone.

‘Right. Here we are, Mr Mansell:

‘Shades - Dead people who inhabit the afterlife.’

Max reads this out, followed by the explanatory text, in a flat, colourless GPS-style voice.

‘These undead beings can sometimes be contacted and communicated with by Seers/Psychics/Mediums. Legend has it that under certain circumstances, Shades can even be brought back to life again - but only for very limited time periods.’

Rollo weighs all this up with an air of bored disbelief.

‘Dead people coming back to life again… and wandering around?’ he says, sounding and looking bewildered. ‘Has it seriously come to this, Max? You’re telling me that people genuinely want to watch this rubbish on TV?’

‘Yes, sir ... and according to Julian, sir, tens… perhaps even hundreds of millions of them!’”

 

Three Shades Called Horace has one of my favourite themes, characters taking on corporate crime and greed, and I do it the way I see life – dark humour is my weapon of choice.

Revised and re-paced for maximum suspense and a whammer of a finish! This New Edition includes an exclusive link to claim the story's "vanished chapters" as a free bonus download.

 

I really hope you’ll like it.

 

All the best,

Jinx 

    Over on the ever-lovely Isle of Man, it’s turned out to be the most sensational evening. The Three Shades, Horace Flaccus, Horace Walpole and Horace Silver are already there, hovering in the twilight, when PP and Fenella finally arrive on Pansy’s motorbike. They’re late as usual, but The Three Shades don’t seem to mind. After all, they do have all the time in the world, don’t they?

The team is getting together at dusk, at an ancient place where they like to meet when the weather’s nice. It’s in the middle of the most beautiful circle of prehistoric standing stones on the island’s southwest. This mystical place is situated on a remote hillside, one side of which looks across to the mountains and the other down towards the sea.

Hearing the vroom of a hot, racing motorbike heading up the hill towards them, the three ghosts turn their heads expectantly. Pansy, aka PP, parks behind the largest of the enormous stones.

She appears first, walking briskly towards the Three Shades, unbuckling, lifting her helmet off and shaking out her hair. Behind her, Fenella, her older, White witch partner, picks her way over the rough ground.

‘We just have to tell all you Horaces straight away!’ says Pansy, getting excited now. ‘Barrett says the ratings for the last show were amazing!’ she gushes, adding, ‘he even told us they were “Earth-shattering!” she grins.

‘Er, would it be possible for you to explain to us what exactly that means, Ma’am?’ asks the ever-polite Walpole.

 ‘What it means, gentlemen,’ says PP, grinning, ‘is that not only are we already getting a huge worldwide audience, but it’s growing bigger and bigger with every show!’

‘And after the last one,’ Fenella butts in excitedly, ‘we’ve had so many people trying to sign up that Barrett has been overwhelmed. His computers and the social media department can’t cope. He’s having to put on more people every day to handle it!’

‘Yes, but, um, what precisely does all of this mean, Ms Pansy?’ asks Flaccus.

‘Look, I’m sure we explained it to you before, Horace. Don’t you remember? The viewers of our Supermoon show all over the world are also a part of the show, right? They’re active participants with their “Cozmics”, says Pansy.

‘Well, yes, my dear, you certainly did,’ said Flaccus, with that lovely smile of his. ‘But I’m afraid that was the part I could never quite understand,’ confesses the Roman Horace. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he adds, looking seriously embarrassed now.

‘Not to worry at all, Horace,’ says Pansy gently. Flaccus has always been her favourite, even though she always enjoys teasing him.

‘Did you know that on the next show,’ she says, ‘the Supermoon is going to be the closest it’s been to the Earth for sixty-nine years! Yes! And that means that if we can add the viewers’ Cozmics together with all of that extra Moon energy,’ she tells them excitedly, making a fingers-crossed sign.

At that point, Pansy pauses, grins, and says, ‘Well, just try to imagine the power involved!’

‘The technical guys even think we might have enough energy,’ says Fenella, ‘to maybe bring you back in full colour… and all of you at the same time!’

‘All of us in colour…  and at the same time?’ says Horace Walpole, getting really excited himself now.

‘Are you sure?’ says Horace Silver, ‘In full colour?’

‘Absolutely!’ says the by-now almost gushing Fenella! ‘Bye-bye to all that fuzzy black and white stuff, eh?’

They can all feel the excitement rippling the air between them. The psychic, the witch, and the three Horaces gathered in the magic circle of prehistoric standing stones.

‘It’s called “collective mental focus”,’ says PP. ‘And that means that if it all works out, you three guys will materialise as psychic energy through me!’

‘And that’d be sooo cool, baby! Right?’ smiles jazzman Horace Silver.

Fenella grins again and nods; ‘But, how about this? If we can get enough Cozmics from the global audience, all three of you Shades may even seem to fully come back to life for a while!’

This time, all three of them just stand there, totally gobsmacked!

‘Now, nobody is certain exactly what will happen,’ says Fel, ‘but whaddya reckon, gentlemen? Let’s give it a go, eh?’ she gushes.

By now, they’re all totally in love with the idea… and it shows.

‘I’m afraid I still don’t quite understand it,’ Flaccus says to her, almost flapping his toga with excitement, ‘but wouldn’t it be wonderful if it did actually happen? Especially for me after two thousand years in the shade!’

‘Hey, you could even really “Seize the day!” says Pansy!

 

* * *

“It is charming to totter into vogue.”

Horace Walpole

1717-1797

 ⚛︎ ⚛︎ ⚛

**FREEBIE ALERT!!**

To celebrate the relaunch of Three Shades Called Horace, the author is having an exclusive giveaway of the supernatural short story The House on Via Magliocco!

The House on Via Magliocco

by Jinx James

Genre: Supernatural Dark Fantasy

 

To be beautiful forever. Would you turn down that offer?

 

A mesmerizing one-hour dark fantasy short read.

Silvia is a top fashion model who lives for the spotlight, but the camera's love is fleeting. When she’s offered a mysterious assignment at the secluded House on Via Magliocco, it feels like the ultimate canvas for her creativity and passion for dance.

But inspiration quickly twists into a feverish obsession.

As the mansion's haunting music bleeds from her dreams into her waking life, Silvia realizes she hasn't just accepted a job—she has stepped into a beautiful trap. The house demands a performance, the wealthy owner demands perfection, and the price of eternal beauty might just be her soul.

Get this exclusive supernatural short story delivered directly to your inbox.

 

Get it FREE Here!

Bestselling dark humor fiction author Jinx James was born in the UK and lives in Australia. He has worked in music and advertising, and has always been fascinated by charisma, satire, and what makes people laugh He used to write comedy sketches for a well-known Australian TV and film star, but that was after he was in the music game, as a performer. Later came writing and producing music for advertising, and for big events like the Sydney Olympics. All that time he was trying his hand at writing fiction, mostly humorous. Eventually it became his new way of living while having fun. He writes under two author names. As Jinx James his dark humor draws on his life in show business. As dog lover Kit James, his Mutt to Megastar series features Elliott, a rescue dog who becomes a TV star.

 

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

Enter the Three Shades Called Horace Giveaway Here

Cover Reveal:/Giveaway: Death Takes a Holiday by Tammie Painter

 

Death needed a vacation.

What he got was a murder, a demon, and a 73-year-old detective with no time to kill.

Death Takes a Holiday

The Mortimer & Mrs Morris Trilogy Book 1

by Tammie Painter

Genre: Humorous Dark Paranormal Mystery 

Death is bored. Immortality will do that to you.

** A hilarious new series from the author of The Cassie Black Trilogy! **

After an eternity of escorting souls to the afterlife, Death — who really prefers you call him Mortimer — is bored. There's been departmental divisions, technical developments, and fitness crazes that mean people just aren't dying like they used to.

What's worse… He's running low on romance novels to keep himself occupied.

His solution: a working holiday to Top World, where he expects room service, infinity-high thread counts, and an easy solution to get business booming again.

What he doesn't expect is Mrs Morris, a seventy-three-year-old detective with a tightly packed schedule that leaves no room for an immortal assistant.

But Mortimer refuses to go away. After all, detectives find murderers, and having his very own killer would be the perfect way to nudge up those mortality rates.

Luckily, someone's just been murdered — and Mrs Morris has been hired to find the culprit. The only trouble? The victim reeks of demons, turning Mortimer's perfect opportunity into a great deal of trouble that could end his career. Oh, and the human race.

Death Takes a Holiday is a humorous fantasy novel about the most inconvenient partnership in the history of the afterlife, where a pair of unlikely allies are thrown together by broken bones, murder mysteries, pesky demons, and the deadliest cup of coffee in Portland.

Like Terry Pratchett joining the Thursday Murder Club, Death Takes a Holiday is perfect for fans of wry humor, paranormal mystery, and unforgettable characters forming reluctant bonds.

 

**Releases August 18, 2026 – PreOrder Now!**

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Author of humorous fantasy whodunits full of mythical misfits and magical mishaps

Many moons ago I was a scientist in a neuroscience lab where I got to play with brains and illegal drugs. Now, I take wickedly strong tea and turn it into comic fantasy whodunits full of mythical misfits and magical mishaps that I hope give you a giggle. 
My tales run the gamut from the ever-expanding Cassie Black Trilogy with its wryly humorous paranormal mysteries to the comical fantasy whodunits in The Circus of Unusual Creatures, and from light-hearted novellas celebrating my love of books to short fiction in which I really flex my myth-loving and humor-craving muscles!

When I’m not creating worlds or killing off characters, I can be found gardening, planning my next travel adventure, concocting some sort of mess in the kitchen, or working as an unpaid servant to one very spoiled cat and some very demanding squirrels.

 

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Follow the reveal HERE for special content and a giveaway!

Enter the Death Takes a Holiday Giveaway Here

Discover To Beguile a Banished Lord today and a Giveaway

Title: To Beguile a Banished Lord

Series: Regency Rossingley, Book Three

Author: Fearne Hill

Cover Artist: Mandy Porto

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/11/2025

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 294

Genre: Historical, historical romance/British Regency, gay, bisexual, age-gap, humorous, sunny/grumpy, hurt-comfort, humorous

Add to Goodreads

Description

Rollo Duchamps-Avery, the high-spirited second son of the eleventh Earl of Rossingley, is not in his father’s best books. After one misdemeanour too many, the earl ruins Rollo’s idyllic summer by packing him off to the wilds of rural Norfolk, arranging for him to stay with the Duke of Ashington’s loathsome brother.

Lord Lyndon Fitzsimmons has an aversion to houseguests. Shunned by polite society for crimes far wickeder than anything Rollo could dream up, all Fitzsimmons wants is to drink himself into a stupor, tend his beloved hydrangeas, and take potshots at tin soldiers.

If only his inquisitive young visitor, with his pretty little head of wispy blond hair, his stupidly coltish legs, and his knack of always being where Fitzsimmons would rather him not, would leave him in peace.

This third book in the Rossingley Regency romance series features the fourteenth Earl of Rossingley’s lively second son, Rollo, and the Duke of Ashington’s disgraced brother, Lord Lyndon Fitzsimmons. This book can be read as a standalone.

Excerpt

To Beguile a Banished Lord

Fearne Hill © 2025

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Rossingley Estate, Summer, 1825

I must not swive the stable boy (again).

I must not swive the stable boy (again).

I must not swive the stable boy (again).

I must not…

“Crocodile tears won’t save you this time, Master Rollo.”

Pritchard’s lisping note of triumph was unmistakeable. “No matter how prettily you shed them, you’ve pushed your papa too far. He is provoked beyond measure.”

“He’d be his usual fine and dandy self if you hadn’t gone running to inform him.”

“My primary role in the Rossingley household is to serve the earl,” answered Pritchard, as prissy and prim as ever. “Not his licentious offspring.”

Rollo harboured an ugly notion that his father’s valet had been waiting a long time for this moment, possibly since when Rollo, at age four, had sprinkled rich, resinous lily pollen amongst Papa’s meticulously folded white linens. It had been the opening salvo of a rather jolly dislike of each other.

“You’re relishing this, aren’t you, Pritchard?”

“Tremendously,” Pritchard confirmed.

Escape flitted across Rollo’s mind, but only for a second. One step ahead, and perhaps recalling the time Rollo had feinted past him and sprinted away across the lawns, Pritchard had brought along reinforcements in the form of two burly footmen stationed on either side of the library door. The window, alas, was closed.

Rollo shot a pleading look towards Kit Angel—Papa’s divine and terribly understanding paramour—currently decorating the settee, who shook his head. Everybody was loyal to Papa to a fault, and it was damned annoying.

“Sorry, old chap.” At least Kit sounded genuine. “For what it’s worth, I tried to talk your father out of it. Some of us enjoy having you around.”

What did he mean by having you around? Rollo wasn’t planning on going anywhere, unless swallow diving headfirst out of the nearest window and running for the hills until Papa had calmed down counted. And talk him out of what?

Before Rollo could further parse Kit’s words, Papa himself swept into the library, dressed in his favourite chartreuse silk banyan and pearls. Rollo coveted both immensely. As always, the eleventh earl was impeccably turned out, though this morning, his flamboyant attire sat at odds with the discomfiting, frigid set of his mouth. Rollo barely dared meet his pale eyes; when his mouth looked as grim as that, his gaze could freeze a lake.

“Rollo, my darling.”

Rollo winced. Only a fool would mistake the endearment for anything other than an affectation.

“Yes, Papa.”

The ice-chip eyes glittered. “You know why you’re here, I assume?”

“Yes, Papa.”

Experience taught Rollo that short answers tended to be met more favourably. Unfortunately, his smart mouth had a lamentable tendency to act independently of his mind. “Writing out I must not swive the stable boy one hundred times was a significant clue. The lack of hot water in my room this morning more subtle. But no less vexing.”

The faintest ghost of a smile twitched his father’s lips, gone in an instant. Even in the midst of a scolding, Rollo still appreciated he had the best of fathers. Most would have introduced his arse to the switch long ago.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Rollo?”

Rollo straightened his shoulders. Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb and all that. The importance of standing up for himself had been instilled in him from a young age; Papa could hardly complain now he was reaping what he’d sown.

“Yes, Papa. Several things, actually.”

Papa sighed. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“Firstly, my wrist aches.” Rollo waggled it to demonstrate. “I have indelible green ink stains on my second-favourite blush waistcoat, and I’m still frightfully chilly. And, for the record, Ellis was an able, willing, practiced, and—dare I say—extremely encouraging participant.”

“Naturally, he was; you paid him two pounds!”

“And it was very well deserved.”

“And then a further crown, on account, for future favours!”

Goodness, Pritchard had been busy. Rollo shot him an evil look, though in having his financial transactions laid out so bluntly, his bravura hung by a thread.

“At risk of repeating myself,” Rollo ploughed on, “I considered it money well spent. Ellis has several strings to his bow.”

“Evidently.”

His father’s fine blond brows knit together. The line between standing up for himself and cheeking Papa was a fine one; Rollo had a sneaking suspicion he might have tiptoed across it.

“Darling Rollo,” began his father, a layer of frost coating each syllable. “For all I care, our stable boy could have the whole string section of London’s prestigious Philharmonic Society tucked behind the fall of his breeches. And you could have twanged every single instrument.”

Rollo had been on his knees attempting exactly that until he’d been discovered by the second groom, who’d blabbed to the head groom, who’d gone tittle-tattling to Pritchard.

“Nevertheless, as you are well aware, there is nothing I detest more than fortunate, well-heeled members of society taking advantage of those in their employ.” With an irritable flick of his hand, Papa waved away Rollo’s attempt to defend his actions. “That Ellis was willing is an irrelevance. You placed the man in a devilishly awkward position, and I simply will not tolerate it. Have I made myself crystal clear?”

“Yes, Papa,” he replied meekly. “Sorry, Papa.”

“And so you should be.”

Yet to be mollified, his father folded his arms and began pacing in front of the fireplace. “The simple truth remains. Our loyal servants are out of bounds. I distinctly recall this being made perfectly clear to you when you returned from Eton last year. Did I not?”

Rollo hung his head. “Yes, Papa.”

“If it had been your first demeanour and you had been totally in the dark, then, of course, I would instruct you on how a Duchamps-Avery should behave. It would be remiss of me not to. But, as it is, the fact that you stand here, arguing the point after all I’ve…”

Ahhh, to begin the day with one of Papa’s sweet lectures. Rollo didn’t need to tune in for the rest. He knew how things ran. Their disputes were well rehearsed operatic duets, composed of increasing exasperation on Papa’s part, Rollo feigning abject apology, a discourse on how a Duchamps-Avery should conduct themselves, ending with a loving embrace and a promise to do better. As usual, Pritchard and Kit had been making a fuss over nothing. Rollo would bow his head a few times, continue to appear suitably repentant, and ride this one out.

Content in the sure knowledge he was loved, Rollo’s thoughts drifted. In a few moments, Papa would fizzle out and decree his penance. Idly, Rollo wondered what it might be. Papa was nothing if not creative. Over the years, Rollo’s punishments had ranged from counting all the earwigs in the orangery (aged five, he was discovered hiding in the coal cellar after two hours of searching) to scrubbing the scullery steps with a toothbrush (for convincing his twin brother, Willoughby, that eating crushed pinecones would allow him to see better in the dark). Willoughby casting up his accounts the next morning during the church sermon aside, some of Rollo’s so-called punishments had turned into rather good fun. Like the time he was consigned to digging over the vegetable patch and unearthed an adder, which had slithered over Pritchard’s foot.

“To that end, Rollo, it is high time you had a firmer hand. My own father, rest his soul, oft quoted that a rose bush must be heavily pruned in order to produce the best blooms. And, on this occasion, I believe he was speaking with the weight of wisdom. Don’t you agree?”

Papa’s lecture appeared to have taken a horticultural detour. “Er…yes?”

“Excellent.” His father clapped his hands. “Therefore, Dobson will accompany you when you depart for your trip to Norfolk this afternoon, see you safely settled in, and return to collect you in three months’ time.”

“D-Dobson will…what?” Rollo’s happy flights of reminiscence screeched to a halt. Did…did he…did…? “Sorry, Papa, I must have misheard. Did you just say Dobson’s accompanying me to Norfolk?”

“Got it in one, darling. You are clever. To Goule Hall, to be precise. On the edge of the Broads, between some hellish backwater named Stokesby and another provincial bog going by the name of Wroxham, I believe. A delightful, if not a tad isolated, property belonging to the Ashington estate. The duke’s twin brother, Lord Lyndon Fitzsimmons, remains in residence after spending an enforced period of seclusion there a couple of years ago, whilst he…ah…reflected on several episodes of…ah…poor behaviour in and around the ton. I shall spare you the details. Suffice to say that in comparison, dear boy, your antics are those of a rank amateur.”

This Lord Lyndon Fitz-something-or-other could have kidnapped the moon from under the noses of the sun and the stars for all that Rollo cared. “And this…this Goule Hall is in Norfolk?” he clarified, aghast. Perhaps, somehow, his father was confusing Norfolk with Mayfair.

Alas, no.

“Unless the hall has been excavated and deposited elsewhere since the duke and I corresponded less than a week ago, then yes.”

“And Willoughby is coming too,” Rollo decreed, praying if he said it with enough confidence, that would somehow make it true.

His father shook his head. “On the contrary. Willoughby will be travelling to London with me. I plan to use the time you are apart to begin schooling your brother in the rudiments of my business affairs.” He flashed Rollo an evil little smile very much like Rollo’s own, displaying all of his sharp pointed teeth. “And perhaps take the opportunity to do some shopping, pay a visit to my tailor, and so forth.”

Ugh. That was a low blow. Rollo didn’t give two hoots for learning about business. Willoughby would inherit the title and all that nonsense, anyhow. But how he adored their family shopping expeditions! Much more than Willoughby ever did.

Pritchard made an odd noise, quickly covering his mouth with his hand. Knowing the blasted valet, the whole thing had been his bloody idea. He’d always enjoyed having the earl to himself. Rollo would have said so, too, if every ounce of his not inconsiderable intelligence wasn’t fixated on desperately seeking a way out of the barren wasteland now known as his immediate future. Because, from where he was sitting, Norfolk already seemed horribly like a fait accompli. Three months. Three summer months. Stuck with a dull, ancient lord, in a draughty old hall in the middle of effing nowhere. They might as well just shoot him with a musket ball now and be done with it.

He tried one last time. “Ha ha, very funny. But…really, Papa? Norfolk? Cold, flat, windy Norfolk? Even Bonaparte wasn’t exiled to Norfolk!”

“No.” The earl tilted his white-blond head, so like Rollo’s own, in gentle acknowledgement. “But then, my dear, Napoleon Bonaparte wasn’t a spoiled second son of an earl, caught swiving one of my stable boys when he’d been given explicit instructions not to manhandle the servants. Pritchard? Ring for Dobson, if you would be so kind. I do believe Rollo’s valises are already packed.”

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Fearne Hill is a British writer of queer romance and the winner of the 2025 Lambda Literary Award for LGBTQ Romance. When she’s not crafting characters who fall hard and kiss slowly, she works as an anaesthesiologist. She lives in the deepest Dorset countryside with her beloved spaniels.

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New Book Spotlight Tour/Giveaway: The Heartbeats of Aloha by Brooke Gilbert

The Heartbeats of Aloha
Brooke Gilbert
(Under the Hawaiian Stars)
Publication date: July 1st 2025
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

𝙎𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙𝙮, 𝙧𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚. 𝘾𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧-𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧?

Reef has been in love with Luna since they were kids. As a secret romance novelist, he pours his unrequited feelings into his books, reliving their love on the page. But when Luna’s uncle proposes a fake relationship to thwart a stunt her PR wants to pull, Reef’s wildest dreams and worst fears are about to collide.

Luna never stopped loving Reef, even when she broke his heart to protect him. Music became her refuge, but fame brought unexpected complications. Now, fate has brought them back together, but the demons of their past threaten to consume them both.

As Reef and Luna navigate their rekindled feelings amidst a whirlwind of secrets, heartache, and desire, they’ll discover that sometimes reality is even more extraordinary than fiction. When their truths come to light, will their love survive, or will they wish they’d left the past buried in the sands of time?

The Heartbeats of Aloha is a poignant, swoon-worthy standalone in the International Soulmate series. Immerse yourself in:

• A heart-melting second chance romance
• The lush, tropical beauty of Hawaii
• A fake relationship that feels all too real
• Deep, nuanced portrayals of mental health and disability
• Unforgettable characters, including an adorable canine companion

If you love emotional journeys filled with tender moments, sizzling chemistry, and the healing power of love, then Brooke Gilbert’s moving story is a must-read.

Let the rhythm of the islands guide you to your next great romance. Grab The Heartbeats of Aloha today and lose yourself in Reef and Luna’s unforgettable love story!

Content note: This book contains discussions of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

As soon as the doors closed, I turned to her. “Luna,” I breathed. I didn’t know what to do, but I was being drawn to her, the tether from earlier pulling at me even harder. I placed my hands on either side of her hips, grabbing the cold railing with everything I had, desperate to be close to her.

Then I leaned into her slightly. “He’s just an idiot who’s upset he lost the best thing he’s ever had. Nothing in the world could make me want to ‘return’ you. If you were mine, I’d do anything to keep you.”

Her eyes became even glossier as they drifted up to meet mine. “You don’t even know what it is.” She looked away. “I didn’t think I needed to tell you since this is all . . .”

“This is all what?” I asked her more pointedly. Her lips parted, but she said nothing. I could see the ghost of the word ‘fake’ on them. I gripped the railing tighter. “I never wanted any of this to be pretend. Not one second of it has been for me. Has it been for you?”

She shook her head methodically, as if knowing what she was unleashing, and my lips curved upward at her response. Especially when her body gravitated toward mine like she couldn’t stand to be apart.

I started to remove my glasses, knowing this was the first time my feelings and intentions would be on full display for her. The first time, nothing would be covered up under the guise of Louis’ plan.

“Luna, why did you write One More Hour? Was what you said on stage true?” I asked with urgency.

But her face said it all. I didn’t need the words her lips mouthed so sensually . . .“Yes . . . It was you I wanted. I’ve always wanted you. I still do.”

As I went to pull off my glasses, she stopped me, shaking her head emphatically. I felt like a dork, with the goofiest grin on display.

“What? You want me to keep them on? I was trying to look less like a nerd.” I laughed nervously as I leaned even closer to her, my hands clutching the railing beside her.

“Yes, they have to stay on. It’s required.” But she was only halfway teasing, and I loved it. “Do you know how many fantasies I’ve had about this?”

“No, why don’t you tell me?” I began coyly.

“Enough to have a bet with myself about how fast I can fog them up.” She smirked.

“Oh, I’m seeing the appeal now. Maybe this nerd thing can have some perks,” I mumbled. But all my cockiness left me as I became overwhelmed by her. Especially as she reached up for the collar of my dress shirt and tugged me toward her. The smell of the plumeria flower in her hair and the scent of Luna overcoming any hesitation. I wanted to bottle her scent along with this moment.

Our faces were only inches apart, warmth radiating between us. And I was ready to close any of the distance between us. Need taking over in a way I’d never known, when she breathed out, “Why didn’t you ever kiss me?”

“I couldn’t tell if you wanted me to.” A pain twisted at her cheeks with my words.

There was a hard tug on my shirt collar. A very clear sign of her want. And with that, all space and time vanished. It was just her lips on mine as I leaned into every part of her. Every part I knew intimately and loved . . . all of her. Allowing myself to taste her for the very first time.

I pulled back suddenly, and her eyes looked simultaneously confused and incredibly disappointed.

“Wait,” I interjected, and her face fell. I pushed off of the handrails and moved toward the elevator pad. Quickly, I pulled the emergency button, halting the elevator.

“Reef, you can’t do that.” Her eyes flashed with mixed amusement and sheer concern.

With a confidence I didn’t know I possessed, I strode back over to her. “Oh, but I think I already did.” I readjusted my glasses to look at her, the ones that were already fogged up. “Now, where were we?”

She laughed as my hands slid around the back of her thighs to pick her up, gently propping her against the elevator railing. Her legs seamlessly wrapped around me like they were always meant to be there.

“Oh yeah, here.” The words tumbled out of me.

Luna only laughed harder and then raked her hands upward through my hair, pulling me in with more force this time. I met her heady passion with a strong desire of my own this time. But I was becoming increasingly aware that I had kind of cornered her. And what started out feeling sexy now felt like it could cause anxiety. And that’s the last thing I ever wanted. I spun us around, effectively swapping our positions, hoping to give her more space and control. I was absolutely fine with her cornering me.

Luna looked at me and her legs squeezed even tighter around me as her fingers dug deeper. Sending shockwaves through my scalp and back. I guess I’d made the right call. Especially when her lips melted over mine and then started roaming, making use of my neck in ways no one had ever properly done before. I had gotten everything wrong in my novels. No kiss I wrote could ever compare to this. I was going to need to make a few revisions.

“Miss!” the intercom burst forth from the elevator speaker. We looked at each other with wide eyes. “Miss, please disentangle yourself and step away from the gentleman.” I started laughing and Luna gave me a look that said it wasn’t funny. “We’re going to be overriding the elevator panel and resuming normal functions as soon as . . . you . . . huh hmm . . . Remove yourself.”

But Luna just stayed glued to me, like a scared monkey. Her face was a mixture of shock and embarrassment. “Ma’am,” the booming voice rang out, “Please don’t make me call security.”

“Yeah, stop mauling me, Luna. Geez.” Now she was laughing, too, as I helped her stand beside me. She seemed as off balance as I felt. Her knees even buckled at the point of contact with the floor. With a sly smile, I pointed to the other corner of the elevator. “You better go over there, just to be safe.”

She just shoved me lightly, like when we were kids, and the elevator started moving. The booming voice thanked us for our ‘cooperation,’ no matter how unenthusiastically we had complied with the request. And then Luna’s long, petite fingers found their way in between mine. A peaceful reverberation echoing throughout my body when she did. She was like that first cool breeze coming off the ocean at the end of the hottest day. She was my happy place. Everything that made our island special, she encompassed it all so well. The heartbeats of this place were the people. The heartbeats were her.

My eyes dared to glance over at her, and the intimacy of this moment changed me. I would never look at love the same way. She had just cracked something wide open inside of me. Right at the place that had been scarred so many years ago, and then forever placed herself inside it.

Author Bio:

Brooke Gilbert is a Tennessee native, a microbiology graduate of the University of Tennessee, and a border collie mom. She is, as you may have already guessed, a hopeless romantic and a lover of Jane Austen. When she isn’t writing, she works as a jewelry designer, an audiobook narrator, and a graphic designer. Her writing features characters with autoimmune disorders, something she deals with herself. She believes it is important for these types of characters to be seen in modern literature and started writing so she could see someone like herself in literature. She is considered a medical mystery and has several rare autoimmune disorders. These disorders caused her to withdraw from Physician Assistant School, but she is happy to be pursuing her dreams of designing, creating, and writing. She thanks God for leading her heart on this new path and recites “perhaps this is the moment for which you were created” in times of doubt (Esther 4:14).

She loves watching classic films (thrillers and romantic comedies, too), reading, playing the ukulele, painting, dancing, Pilates, and spending time with her dog, family, and friends. One of her favorite quotes is from Flashdance: “When you give up on your dreams, you die.” She believes that if you’re waiting to pursue your dreams, stop waiting and start doing. Your time is now. And may you never stop being a hopeless romantic. Contrary to popular belief, it’s a very good quality. She’s still looking for her Mr. Darcy. Visit brookegilbertauthor.com to connect and stay updated on her latest projects.

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GIVEAWAY!
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Series Spotlight Tour Stop/Giveaway: Lesser Known Travel Tips Series by Simon Yeats

 

Check out this new-to-me Series and author today: Simon Yeats' Lesser Known Travel Tips Series and make sure to enter the tour wide giveaway as the author is giving one lucky person  a $25 Amazon/BN gift card. The tour is sponsored by Goddess Fish Promotions and you can find all the tour stops HERE.

An Interview with Simon Yeats:

What are your favorite TV shows?

I am a huge fan of Fawlty Towers, The Black Adder, and Yes, Minister. (Prime Minister)

 

What is your favorite meal?

I love a lamb roast. I love an Aussie burger, complete with a fried egg, fried onions, pineapple and beetroot. I love my girlfriend’s spaghetti and meatballs. (Who could have thought it was possible to improve basic spaghetti and meatballs but she found a way)

For dessert, I love steamed pudding (Made my first one in my life a month or so ago after going home to Australia and buying the key ingredient Suet mix), and sticky date pudding. Both served hot with a dollop of French vanilla ice-cream AND whipped cream.

 

If you were to write a series of novels, what would it be about?

I honestly do not think I have the patience or the skill to write novels. Instead, I choose to write a series of memoirs that have far more action, thrills, drama, heart-warming moments, and references to a certain Air France stewardess that broke my heart in India than any fiction book series could muster. Truth is far stranger than fiction, and a lot more interesting as well, in my opinion.

 

Is there a writer you idolize? If so who?

Idolize is a pretty strong word. I don’t want to get a letter from his lawyer telling me to cease my harassment because he feels threatened. How about we say admire? But Bill Bryson was a favorite for many good books and laughs.

 

How did you come up for the title of this book?

Ha, I started off with short snappy titles for my books that were designed to show the thrills and action of my life. CHASED. SHOT AT. RUPTURED INTESTINES. But then I did not think that these titles properly showed my personality or my humor. So I went with the longest titles I thought would fit on the cover of a book. Everyone who looks at the titles of the Lesser Known Travel Tips series says the same thing, ‘those are the longest titles I have ever seen.’ I know. Isn’t it great? Despite all the worry that having a long title would scare off readers, I did it anyway because it fit one key underlying theme of the series. Just because someone else doesn’t think you should do it, that shouldn’t stop you. Because otherwise a person will die and realize that they spent their entire life doing what other people thought was right for them and were too scared to live their own life for fear of what other people would think.

LESSER KNOWN TRAVEL TIPS SERIES

Author: Simon Yeats

GENRE:  Humor/Memoir

 

The Lesser Known Travel Tips memoirs are a hilarious series of travel misadventures and dubious personal introspection by Australian author Simon Yeats, who from an early age learned that the best way to approach the misfortunes of this world is to laugh about them.

 

Simon shares his comedic insights into the unusual and uproarious elements of living life as an Aussie ex-pat and having a sense of Wanderlust as pervasive as the Spanish Flu in 1918 or hordes of Mongols in 12th Century.

 

From how to keep yourself entertained when unwittingly forced to watch 11 hours of live sumo wrestling in Japan, to surviving heartbreak in India at the hands of a French flight attendant, to 48 hours spent in Nepal that qualify as the funniest most gut wrenching travel experience since Captain Bligh was set adrift in the Pacific, to his unsuccessful attempts at avoiding going to a brothel in Thailand. From what to do when several people converge to rob you after midnight on a deserted Copacabana Beach, to how to save the Sierra Mountain Range from a wildfire outbreak due to a lack of quality toilet paper, to where not to go in Tijuana when trying to locate the origins to stories of the city’s mythical adult entertainment, to how to save yourself from drowning when caught in a storm while sailing off the California coast. From how to outwit the Italian police while trying to find parking in downtown Genoa, to how to negotiate exploring the Roman ruins of Plovdiv, Bulgaria while on crutches, to how to impress the German Mafia with 80s dance moves, to how to leave a lasting impression on a crowded bar in Gothenburg, Sweden after combining alcohol and antibiotics.

 

Simon Yeats has gone into the world and experienced all the out of the ordinary moments for you to sit back and enjoy the experience without the need to break a leg, contract Dengue fever, or rupture a pancreas.

 Buy Links to all Three Books:

Book One:  https://www.amazon.com/Brothel-Thailand-Ordering-Lesser-Travel-ebook/dp/B0CLDBSXGX/ref=sr_1_3

Book Two: https://www.amazon.com/Getting-Mugged-Janeiro-Singing-Police-ebook/dp/B0CPCBMD1N/ref=sr_1_4

Book Three: https://www.amazon.com/Survive-Yourself-Dancing-Bavarian-Nightclub-ebook/dp/B0CR6GDDXR/ref=sr_1_2

Excerpt Three: 

Excerpt from How to Avoid Getting Mugged in Rio de Janeiro by Singing Songs by The Police and Other Lesser Known Travel Tips

 

My trip to Steamboat in 1988 was life defining for me in so many ways. First time being on my own out of Australia. Overcoming that paralyzing fear. First time standing up on a snowboard. Overcoming my natural uncoordinated self while being too poor to pay for lessons. First time having my newly purchased snowboard stolen. Overcoming grief and anger. First time falling in love. First time having my heart crushed, then stepped on, then thrown in a blender. First time having an UZI in my face.

 

There was no time in my life more memorable than the three months I spent in Colorado during the winter of 1988. I was a raw lump of clay, and this small northern Colorado ski town was the pottery wheel. It was a huge, tense step up in life. And I learned that facing up to uncertainty will open the unlimited possibilities of the world to me.

 

Steamboat Springs, often shortened to Steamboat or even The Boat, lives up to its billing as a ski town with a cowboy spirit. Ten-gallon hats and boots are a common sight along the main drag of Lincoln Avenue. The world-famous cowboy downhill runs every January, coinciding with the National Western Stock Show in Denver. Up to 100 professional rodeo riders descend on the town, to show off their complete inability to ski. The Hindenburg landed in a more graceful fashion than these cowpokes after they hit the slopes.

 

The town's name derives from the abundance of natural, hot mineral springs in the area. Early trappers to the Yampa Valley mistakenly believed that the chugging sound emanating from the hot springs was a steamboat coming down the river. I wonder how many times trappers went off tramping to find animal pelts into the untamed wilderness at an elevation of 7000 feet and stumbled across a steamboat navigating a shallow mountain creek?

 

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AUTHOR Bio and Links: 

Simon Yeats has lived nine lives, and by all estimations, is fast running out of the number he has left. His life of globetrotting the globe was not the one he expected to lead. He grew up a quiet, shy boy teased by other kids on the playgrounds for his red hair. But he developed a keen wit and sense of humor to always see the funnier side of life. 

With an overwhelming love of travel, a propensity to find trouble where there was none, and being a passionate advocate of mental health, Simon’s stories will leave a reader either rolling on the floor in tears of laughter, or breathing deeply that the adventures he has led were survived. 

No author has laughed longer or cried with less restraint at the travails of life.

 

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0CBNQLSPW/about

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@authoryeats

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authoryeats/?hl=en