Book Tour Stop: The Netherworld Witch by Lisa Acerbo

Title: The Netherworld Witch

Author: Lisa Acerbo

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/25/2026

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 79600

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

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Description

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

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

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

Excerpt

The Netherworld Witch
Lisa Acerbo © 2026
All Rights Reserved

Prologue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The other two were upon him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

The shadow held out its hand but then disappeared.

The wall solidified in front of her.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

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

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Book Spotlight: A Fragile Spell by T.M. Kirk

Title: A fragile Spell

Series: Magical Mishaps, Book One

Author: T. M. Kirk

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/17/2026

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 226

Genre: Paranormal Fantasy, FF romance, witches, magic/magic users, artist, glassblower, businessperson, Oregon Coast

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Description

Sangria Christmas Lewis, or “Ria” to literally everyone except her mom, never wanted to be a witch. So when she gets fired from her dream job in marketing and is forced to move back home to Seacliff, she’s less than thrilled. That is, until she gets the idea to offer destiny love spells online: marketing and magic combined. If only she hadn’t screwed up her first spell and made her client fall in love with her. That’s what a witch gets when they abandon their magic for years though.

The small coastal town of Seacliff has captivated the heart of glassblower Lissa Parker. Unfortunately, the marketing company her studio hired to save their failing business dropped them days before they were supposed to launch a secret campaign. With six months to save her studio, Lissa considers it fate that she stumbles across a woman she recognizes from the marketing company. The fact that the woman claims to be a witch only adds to her curiosity. How exactly does one go from marketing to magic?

Lissa needs to find out what Ria knows about her old company's secret marketing campaign so she can save her studio. And Ria needs to figure out how to remove the love spell from her first-ever client. Both women need to learn how to stop keeping secrets and embrace the passion they can’t help but feel for each other.

Excerpt

A Fragile Spell

T.M. Kirk © 2026

All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Ria

“You’re fired.”

Ria blinked at the curmudgeon across the desk from her. A jaunty rendition of “Jingle Bells” was blaring throughout the office, so perhaps she hadn’t heard her boss correctly.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, “but I don’t quite understand. Could you repeat that?”

Frank Mercer furrowed his already profusely wrinkled brow. “Apologies. You’re right. That damn memo just went out last week too. What was I supposed to say?”

He tapped a finger on his desk, his yellowed nails strangely longer than even Ria’s. She focused on that gnarled old finger as if her fate lingered in the milliseconds between each tap. The blinking glow from the red and green lights hanging outside his office cast his face into a disturbing contrast of holiday cheer and demonic horror, each tap coinciding with a shift in color.

Flash of green. Happy Holidays.

Flash of red. Steal your soul.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

Her own fingers itched to give a little flick toward Frank. Nothing major, just a tiny little spell to nudge his brain toward whatever he’d actually meant to say. Surely he couldn’t be firing her. Nobody fired a person in the middle of the office holiday party. Not even the Grinch was that callous.

She twisted a finger through one of her long red curls as the itch in her hand grew stronger the longer her boss appeared to war with himself on word choice. She might have given in if it weren’t for the firm knowledge that handcast spells were not her forte. More often than not, they went horribly wrong. Handcasting was a “use it or lose it” type of magic, and Ria locked herself on the “lose it” track years ago. Right about the time she joined Mercer Marketing and put her witchy ways in the past. Potions were pretty much the only thing she could manage these days, since those were only a slight step beyond basic science, but she didn’t exactly carry little vials of revenge in the pockets of her pencil skirt.

“Oh, right,” Mr. Mercer finally said. “Now I remember. You’re not fired.”

Ria breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“We’re letting you go.”

Ria sucked every last bit of oxygen back into her lungs. “You’re doing what?” she protested, still unable to fathom the words she was hearing. “But it’s Christmas, sir!”

“Oh, we don’t say that anymore either. It’s ‘the holiday season’ now.”

That’s what he was focusing on?

“But it’s the holiday season, sir!” she shot back.

“Yes, yes, I understand it’s in poor taste to let someone go around this time of year, but the reality is that the world is changing, Miss Lewis. Big marketing firms like ours are losing out to these new young influencers. They’re cheaper and will shill anything for a few bucks. We have to cut costs, and unfortunately, that comes in the way of junior marketing agents like yourself.”

Of course she would be the one on the chopping block. She was just the person who did all the work for none of the credit. That alone should have been enough to have her shouting at Frank about how stupid and short-minded he was being. She willed herself to find that inferno deep within, the anger she knew existed at least a little bit even if it rarely came out. If she was going to be fired, then surely this was the time to tell her wretched little goblin of a boss exactly what she thought of him.

“But sir… I’ve been here almost five years.” Her words came out meek and pathetic. So much for the inferno. She’d summoned less fire than a matchstick in a windstorm.

“Almost being the keyword,” Mr. Mercer replied.

Almost. Ria turned the word over in her head. Why would almost matter… Then it hit her.

“Are you telling me I won’t get any severance pay?”

He didn’t even look the slightest bit ashamed. “Severance is only available after five years of employment,” he replied. “I’m afraid the holiday bonus is also only available to those still employed as of the December twentieth paycheck.”

Ria’s eyes flickered to the calendar on the wall behind her boss. December nineteenth. No severance. No holiday bonus. She was completely and utterly screwed.

Mr. Mercer reached into a drawer, then slid an envelope across the desk. “You’ll find Mercer Marketing isn’t completely without heart though. There’s a little something in here as a thank you for your years of loyal service.”

She glanced down at the envelope, at the handful of visible words peeking through the little plastic window.

Sangria Christmas Lewis

Termination Notice

She had been holding onto a tiny sliver of hope that everything was some huge mistake. Frank Mercer barely knew her name after all. She was just Jim Ginatti’s assistant. Maybe he confused her with some other low-level employee. One who didn’t single-handedly design and execute over forty successful marketing campaigns in only five years.

Seeing her name on that slip of paper, though, popped the hopeful balloon inside her, leaving only the tattered remains of a long-held dream. When she’d gotten the call to report to Mr. Mercer’s office, she’d thought it was for a promotion. She’d assumed Jim finally told everyone how she was the real brains behind his success, and she was about to get some much-deserved recognition along with a pay increase. Something she desperately needed, given her current situation.

Instead, she got fired. No, not fired. “Let go.” As if the softer verbiage in turn somehow softened the blow. One would think a marketing firm could have been a little more creative. Knowing they would suffer without her ingenious ideas did little to improve her mood though.

“What about my clients?” She had just put the finishing touches on a campaign that would catapult a small business in her hometown into a whole new level of growth. Without her there to implement it…

“Jim has your files and will handle everything,” Mr. Mercer replied. “All the worthwhile clients will be assured of their continued representation. We will ensure the transition is seamless.”

Nodding, she took the envelope and rose from the chair on unsteady legs. It killed her to think she wouldn’t be around to see her hard work pay off, but as long as Jim followed her plan, the campaign would still be effective. A small consolation, but something to cling to when she had nothing else.

Don’t slink away, a little voice in the back of her head whispered. Make a scene. This asshole ruined your life.

She lingered in front of Mr. Mercer’s desk, debating.

Don’t do anything irrational, another voice whispered. You’ll need to get a good job reference at least.

Frank steepled his hands and eyed her warily. “Once again, Miss Lewis, I do apologize for the timing of this news. Based on your middle name, I’m sure the holidays are something you find much joy in. Perhaps embracing that will help soothe some of the sting.”

It wouldn’t. In fact, Ria hated Christmas. Despite her mother’s frequent declarations that it was truly the most wonderful time of the year, Ria found the pressure to be cheery and bright far too overwhelming. An opinion currently being cemented as she warred with the decision to ease out of her old life quietly or go down swinging.

Cast a spell, that naughty voice urged. Who cares if it goes wrong? Make his hideous crook nose even larger.

Her fingers tingled again, like tiny little pinpricks under the skin.

You don’t cast anymore, the other, more rational, voice protested. Keep your dignity and exit gracefully.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” Mr. Mercer said, nodding toward the door, “please clean out your desk quietly and efficiently. I do have other matters to attend to.”

He waved his hand in a clear dismissal, and it was that small gesture that snapped something inside her. Five years of hard work reduced to a simple flick of the wrist.

“You know what, Mr. Mercer?” she said, the spark inside her growing, her rage finally begging to be unleashed.

“What, Miss Lewis?”

The words hovered on the tip of her tongue. All the things she could finally say. She could tell him he was making the biggest mistake of his life. She could tell him his company would crash and burn without her doing all the work of three executives. She could tell him he smelled like moldy brie, and people took a roundabout way to the break room just to avoid the stench from passing his office.

In the end, the fire blazing in her green eyes fizzled out. She wasn’t a fighter and would never be the type to make waves.

“Happy holidays,” she said meekly, her shoulders drooping in disappointment that she couldn’t even manage a simple “Screw you.”

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

T. M. Kirk is the author of the fantasy romance Onyx Palace series as well as the paranormal rom-com Don’t Bite Me series. Originally from Alaska, she is a rolling stone constantly on the move, eternally searching for that perfect place to call home. Currently residing in California with her partner and two fur babies, her days are spent riding her motorcycle, traveling to new places, and creating fantasy and paranormal worlds as a much needed escape from reality.

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New Release Spotlight: Guarded Obsession by Brenda Murphy today!

Title: Guarded Obsession

Series: University Row, Book Two

Author: Brenda Murphy

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 01/20/2026

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 308

Genre: Contemporary suspense, Romance, contemporary, crime/thriller, lesbian, BDSM, university professor, bodyguard, forced proximity

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Description

Celeste Choi swore she’d never take another protection job, especially not after the betrayal that almost destroyed her. But when her best friend begs for help, she can’t say no. Lou Chavez is on the run from her vengeful ex—a woman who’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants. Hiding out in a remote cabin, Celeste and Lou find themselves locked in a fight for survival and for each other. Lou doesn’t believe she’s worth saving, but Celeste refuses to let her die on her watch. As their enemies close in and an old rival resurfaces with her own deadly agenda, their undeniable attraction ignites into something dark, intimate, and dangerous. To survive, Celeste and Lou must stand together, risk everything, and decide if the love they’ve found is worth the ultimate price.

Excerpt

Guarded Obsession
Brenda Murphy © 2026
All Rights Reserved

The gleaming steel elevator doors opened. Celeste waited a beat, sweeping her gaze over the interior of the car. Satisfied with her safety, she stepped inside. She swiped her key card and pressed the combination of buttons that led to Demure’s subbasement. As she descended, she smoothed her hands over the front of her skirt, checked the fit of her jacket, tugged her sleeves in place, and made sure her weapon didn’t ruin the line of her suit. Her black heels gleamed in the soft glow of the elevator lights.

The doors chimed open. As before, she paused a moment before exiting to assess the situation. Her gaze landed on Bridget, lead sub of Demure. She’d been a professional rugby player, and her thick shoulders tested the limits of her suit jacket. She sank to her knees as Celeste stepped out of the elevator. Celeste indulged herself studying Bridget’s angular profile and dark eyes shining in the fluorescent lights of the hallway before Bridget lowered her gaze.

“Welcome, Mistress Choi. Mistress Yvonne is waiting for you in her office. We’ve moved it since your last time here.” She lifted her hand toward the right hall off the elevator lobby. “It’s two doors down on the left.”

“Thank you, Bridget.” Celeste took a step forward and rested her hand on Bridget’s head. She swept her hand over her crewcut, teasing her finger over the crisp edges. A vision of their last session rose along with Celeste’s desire. “It has been a minute. Did you miss me?”

“More than I dare say, Mistress,” Bridget husked out.

Celeste took advantage of her position to study the rise and fall of Bridget’s chest. She tugged Bridget’s earlobe before pinching it hard. “Are you working all night?”

A visible shiver shook Bridget’s body. “I’m scheduled until eleven, Mistress.”

“Meet me in the blue room after your shift.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Celeste released Bridget’s ear, stepped past her, and took the right hallway. The wide steel door of Yvonne Li’s office was painted black. In the center of the door, the emblem of the club shone red and silver. She rapped on the door. It slid open to reveal a bookcase-lined office and Yvonne behind her desk.

“You didn’t ask who it was,” Celeste chided.

“I’ve watched your spectacular ass from the time you entered.” Yvonne gestured to the wall of video monitors behind her. “And Bridget would never allow anyone not scheduled to disturb me in my office.

Celeste studied the bank of monitors. “Adequate. But every system has blind spots.”

“That’s why I have Lindsey and Bridget and their crew.”

Celeste shifted her gaze back to Yvonne. “You didn’t ask me here to critique your club’s security. And from the absence of subs, nor for a playdate. Why am I here, Yvonne?”

“I need a favor.”

Celeste opened her suit coat before she eased herself into the leather chair across from Yvonne’s desk. “Favor?”

“I need your personal protection services.”

Celeste moved to the edge of her chair. “Didn’t you just tell me how much you trust Lindsey and Bridget and the others with your safety?”

“Not for me. Anyone who came after me would have to go through them. I trust them with my life and with the lives of my family. I need your services for someone else.”

Celeste leaned back in her chair. “No. Not no, but fuck no. I’m out of the business. Let me call one of my former associates for you.” A chill chased down Celeste’s spine. “What the hell, Yvonne?” She shoved away her annoyance with both hands. She studied the dark circles under her friend’s eyes. “Is someone after Mai?”

Yvonne shook her head. “No. A dear friend.”

“Friend?”

“Sub.”

“Is she one of yours? Why can’t Lindsey handle it?”

“Because it’s beyond her expertise. I need someone with international experience.”

Celeste raised her gaze to the ceiling before bringing it back to Yvonne. “I’ll get you some names.”

“Damn it, Celeste, I don’t need names. I need you.” Yvonne’s eyes blazed fire. “She’s in danger. Has no idea how much. She is delulu and thinks I’m overreacting.”

Celeste huffed out a breath and rubbed the back of her neck. “I know you and Sally have an agreement, but you seem very invested in this woman.”

“What Sally and I have is none of your business. Yes, I am invested in her survival. Look, are you going to help me or not?” Yvonne pushed her hair back with her hand. “I’m not going to beg but you’re the only person for this job. Please. I am asking as your friend and as one Mistress to another.”

Celeste lifted a shoulder. “Look, you got me out of more than one jam. But my credentials are not up to-date. I let it all go after that mess with the Burlingtons. I’m not—”

“This is off the books.” Yvonne drew her fingers over a dark-blue file folder on the desk.

Celeste squinted. “Protection off the books? Who did she kill?”

“No one. But some people have spent and will spend a large portion of their lives behind bars because of her.”

“Drugs? I don’t fuck with drug cartels.” Celeste smoothed her fingers over the hem of her short skirt.

“You mean you don’t anymore.” Yvonne held her gaze.

“Water under the bridge. So, what is it?”

“Art.”

“Art?”

She was a key witness in an international art fraud case.”

“And?”

“And in the last nine months, six members of the prosecutor’s office and investigative team involved with the case have died under suspicious circumstances. Car accidents, falls from high places, or simply vanished. On the surface it seems like a series of coincidences.” Yvonne leaned back in her wheelchair.

“So let the feds handle it.” Celeste shifted in her seat.

Yvonne lifted a perfectly shaped brow. “Are you high? Did you hear what I said? Might as well put a target on her back if the feds get involved.”

Celeste squirmed under Yvonne’s withering gaze. “It’s not— I don’t think—”

“Forget it. Get out.” Yvonne spun her wheelchair around, showing Celeste her back. Icy waves of anger radiated from her. Celeste studied the set of her shoulders. Yvonne had remained her friend when others had walked away, helped her when no one else would. Yvonne stood up to a powerful family on Celeste’s behalf and won. She owed her a debt she never expected to be able to repay.

Celeste stood and rounded the desk. “Hey. Look at me.”

“I don’t want to see your face. I believed you when you said you would do anything for me. For eight years I haven’t asked you for a damn thing.”

Guilt pricked Celeste’s skin. She shoved aside her fear. “I’ll do it.”

Yvonne kept her head turned from Celeste’s face. “No. I don’t need your pity. Nor resigned agreement. Get out. Leave me to think.”

“No. I’m not leaving. You said no one else can do this job. Let me do this. Sorry, I said no. You know why.”

“I do. And I’ll tell you now what I did then. None of it was your fault. Your client lied to you. Deliberately disobeyed your instructions. Her death was her own doing. I wouldn’t ask for your help if I didn’t think you are the one person who might be able to keep Lou safe.”

“Lou? Fuck boi Lou?” Celeste stepped back and away from Yvonne.

Yvonne spun her chair to face Celeste. “Don’t slut-shame. Yes, Lou. She is a flirt. As you have witnessed, no doubt. But she is the least promiscuous person I know.”

Celeste rested her hands on her hips. “She’s a trust fund baby. She could afford all the protection she needs. Why is this your responsibility?” She cocked her head. “Is she yours?”

“As much as she is anyone’s.” Yvonne rubbed her hands together. “She started coming here as a fresh-faced twenty-three-year-old, a fine arts graduate student, green as hell.”

“You trained her? Were you her first Mistress?” Celeste squinted, trying to imagine Yvonne with a butch sub.

“No. Not my type. But I arranged for others to teach her protocol, safety, and consent. She’s evolved into a sub who makes every Mistress she ever scened with hungry for more. She’s skilled in all the right ways, and she knows it. She has used it to get whatever and whoever she wants.” Yvonne pursed her lips. “She’s cocky as hell and dares you take her down. A top from the bottom ass, but her submission is tantalizing and addictive. She could have her pick of Mistresses.”

“So why isn’t she someone’s? No one strong enough for her?”

“No. She came close once. It ended badly.”

“How badly?”

“Stalking. Restraining order for the Mistress. I blame myself I didn’t see the signs.”

Celeste crossed to the chair opposite Yvonne’s desk. She shed her suit coat before she sat. “Give me her file.”

Yvonne laid her hand on top of it. “No going back once you see this.”

Celeste tilted her head and met Yvonne’s gaze. “When have I ever backed down?”

Yvonne shoved the file toward Celeste. “I won’t remind you of you closing your business and ghosting the world for the last eight years.”

“Don’t. And I wasn’t ghosting anyone. I want a quiet life.”

“Quiet lives are overrated.” Yvonne lifted her chin. “What can I get you to drink while you’re reading?”

“A nonalcoholic ginger beer.”

Yvonne’s mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “Ahh yes, you’re seeing Bridget later. She’s missed you. What do you have planned for her?”

“What are you—a lip reader? Or do you have the place wired for sound as well as video?”

“Wired for both.”

Celeste shifted her gaze from Yvonne’s eager expression to the clock. “I’m not telling you anything. Tune in later if you’re curious.” She opened the thick folder.

Yvonne called in their drink order while Celeste scanned the first page of Lou’s file. The passport photo clipped to the first page didn’t do Lou justice, but then how could an image capture the essence of a sexy bold butch unafraid to be herself?

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Brenda Murphy (she/her) writes erotic romance. Her most recent novel, Double Six, is the 2020 Golden Crown Literary Society winner for Erotic Novels, and Knotted Legacy, the third book in the Rowan House series, made the 2018 The Lesbian Review’s Top 100 Vacation Reads list. You can catch her musings on writing, books, and living with wicked ADHD on her blog Writing While Distracted. She loves sideshows and tattoos and yes, those are her monkeys. When she is not loitering at her local library, she wrangles twins, one dog, and an unrepentant parrot 

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. For a free short story, information on book signings, appearances, work in progress snippets, previews and sneak-peeks, sign up for my email list at:

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Book Tour Stop/Giveaway: Vermont Paradise by Natalie Monteiro

Title: Vermont Paradise

Author: Natalie Monteiro

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 01/06/2026

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 71200

Genre: Contemporary YA, Romance, contemporary, young adult, family-drama, lesbian, family vacation, campsite, vanlife, dogs, sisters

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Description

A camping trip with her family is what Maria was expecting. Long walks with her dog, Maggie, the usual banter with her sister, Tanya, receiving unsolicited survival lessons from her dad, and pep talks of positivity from her mom. But her predictions were only half correct. Never would she expect to spend so much time with anyone else. Especially not a total stranger. A stranger with such a pretty smile and beautiful green eyes. Because that’s the thing about people who you don’t know. They can teach you things that you never knew about yourself.

Excerpt

Vermont Paradise

Natalie Monteiro © 2026

All Rights Reserved

I threw my backpack into the backseat of our blue Subaru Outback and closed the door. I really wanted to slam it, but I had recently taken it upon myself to be less passive-aggressive. Regardless, I shouldn’t show my cards. Mom had practically begged us to be on our best behavior. For Dad’s sake, she had said. It was his idea to go on this family camping trip. Our first one ever. I didn’t know what inspired this idea of his. All I knew was that he thought it would be a good idea to teach us kids about the outdoors. In case we ever got lost in the wilderness or in case there was total collapse of society. The latter seemed to be his greatest fear.

“All set?” my mom asked as she approached the Subaru.

“Yes, my bag is all packed,” I responded.

“Do you know if Tanya is ready?”

Tanya. My lovely older sister. She was the main reason I was dreading this family trip. I tried my best to keep my composure.

“Probably not. You know how she is. Waiting until the last minute to get ready just like Dad.”

“Ugh, I know,” Mom said with a huff. “Your father is still in the shower.”

We were supposed to be on the road by 8:00 a.m., but here we were at 8:20 a.m., still waiting for them. Getting up early was not an issue for me. If anything, I woke up too early. Like today. Five-thirty a.m. was a bit too much, even for me. I knew it was because I had too much on my mind… I just wanted to get this camping trip over with already.

I gave my mom a half smile before passing her by to go back inside. I wanted to say goodbye to my cat, Remy, while I still could. I bet he would enjoy the house all to himself. If anything, he would enjoy being free from Maggie, our four-year-old Australian Shepherd who still had the energy of a puppy. Which, unfortunately for Remy, meant that she wanted to play with him whenever the rest of us were too busy.

It was one of my favorite things about Maggie. How much she loved to play. We could do it for hours. Fetch with her favorite tennis ball or playing with my old, beat-up soccer ball. She even knew how to play hide and seek! But for her, she didn’t really care what we did, so long as we were doing it together. That was why I made sure she was included in this family trip. But truthfully, it was just as much for her sake as it was for mine.

That the one good thing about camping, at least. It was dog friendly.

I opened the kitchen cupboard, hoping to find Remy there. It wasn’t his typical hiding spot, but it definitely wasn’t his most unusual. He was usually to be found under my parents’ bed, but with all the extra commotion this morning, I figured he wanted somewhere quieter.

I was right. There he was, curled up in a tight ball, staring up at me with his bright-green eyes. He gave me a look of “please just let me sleep some more.” Not this time. If only he could understand that he could go back to sleeping in a few minutes, once all of us had left.

He let out a soft meow as I scooped him up and plopped us onto the black pleather couch. I held him tight against my chest, and he nuzzled in, making himself more comfortable. I stroked the long dirty-brown fur on his back, and I could feel him relaxing more deeply. Soon, he closed his eyes as if ready to return to sleep.

If only he knew how lucky he is, not having to endure the family trip that lies ahead.

“Morning, sis!” Tanya screeched from over my shoulder. My entire body jumped in surprise as my heart rate increased. Remy too was disturbed. His eyes jolted open, and he looked direly afraid. I didn’t know if it was from Tanya’s yell or my reaction to it. Either way, it didn’t matter. I was just lucky that he didn’t run away.

“Ready for some family bonding?” she asked with an overly sarcastic tone. It took every bone in my body to not get upset with her. She knew that I startled easily, and I knew that she got pleasure from seeing it happen. I couldn’t fault her for it this time. I could only wonder how I had missed her coming down the stairs.

“Yeah, I’m ready for it if you are,” I said, trying to gauge just how bad of a mood she was in. Out of all the vacations we could have gone on, at least we could agree that this would be very low on the list. Though I knew she wouldn’t handle camping as well as I would.

She mocked me under her breath. “I’m ready if you are,” she muttered to herself in a voice that made me sound stupid. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

I stared at her without an answer. Was she really starting this already?

“God, you’re so annoying. I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck with you in a car, for, what, like four hours?”

“Like three and a half,” I corrected, wanting to add a splash of fuel to the fire.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Close enough.”

I stared at her in make-believe confusion. “Oh, I thought you’d be delighted. It’s less time than you were expecting to spend with me in the car.”

She stared back at me with a dirty grin on her face. “No one likes a know-it-all, Mar. And that’s only one reason why people don’t like you.”

I instinctively clenched my hand into a fist. I usually tried to ignore comments like these from her, but I was getting sick of being her punching bag. Camping would be bad enough on its own. I didn’t need her comments on top of it.

“Aw, what a real shame Tommy didn’t want to come with us. I can’t imagine why. You’re such a charmer. Hey, well, since he’s not coming, why don’t you take all that makeup off? Or are you too insecure to even let your family see what you really look like?”

Remy wasn’t having it. I could only assume he felt the tension. He jumped off my lap and ran up the stairs, probably to hide elsewhere. Anywhere far from here. It made my skin boil hotter. Tanya had ruined my goodbye with him.

She gave me a smirk. “Okay, one: you know Tommy couldn’t take the time off work. And two: you sound like a jealous bitch. It’s not my fault you’re incapable of obtaining a meaningful, long-term relationship. One that’s filled with connection. One that’s filled with love.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure he really loves you. I totally haven’t noticed him flirting with anyone else. Never.”

“That’s it!” She lunged in my direction with her arms at full stretch.

“Girls!” Mom yelled, swinging the front door open and accidentally slamming it into the wall. She stared at where it had hit, clearly upset that it had happened. She turned to give us an angry look of “see what you made me do?”

Tanya’s eyes were locked on mine as she slowly took a step backward. She maintained a glare at me while doing so, making me believe that she really was about to beat the shit out of me. What retaliation had Mom just saved me from?

“It is too early for this much animosity! Please!” Mom seemed unsatisfied that our ongoing tension hadn’t miraculously disappeared into thin air.

“She started it!” Tanya yelled, breaking our deadlock. I felt like I had teleported back to when we were kids. Her five and me four.

“I don’t want to hear it! We have been over this already! I need you two to get along for the sake of your father. This vacation is very important to him.”

I let out a heavy sigh, knowing she was right. “Yes, Mom. It won’t happen again,” I agreed, really hoping that this would be the last of our fighting. But knowing Tanya, Mom’s interference had merely delayed her retaliation, and she didn’t even have a chance to respond.

It was as if Dad had heard his name and was arriving on cue. He bounced down the stairs with a big bag of God knows what in either hand. “All right, all right, all right!” he hummed. “Who’s ready for some camping?” He expressed it in such a way that made the only appropriate answer to be one agreeing with him wholeheartedly.

“Me!” Tanya said, convincingly, taking the words right out of my mouth. It was officially time to put on the good girl show for Dad.

“Me too, Dad!” I said, sounding equally excited.

Mom looked like a wave of relief had been taken off her shoulders. She had nipped our fighting in the bud before Dad could even become aware of it. It was lucky for her, and it was lucky for us. There was no reason to make Dad upset.

“Great! Let’s pack up the car,” he said.

“I already threw my stuff in there,” I explained, alluding to the fact that I had been ready for a while now.

“Okay, well then, you can help me load these bags into the car, and Tanya, you can help your mother fill the cooler.”

I was pretty sure that Mom had already filled it, but I wasn’t going to correct him, and apparently, she didn’t want to either. She just gave him a smile.

I stepped outside. The cool air of the summer morning hit my face. I could already feel the heat from the sun beaming down on top of my head, which meant regardless of the brisk morning air, today was going to be a hot one.

Dad opened the trunk to the Subaru, looking displeased as he noticed the various items that were already loaded in there. He pulled them all out and placed them onto the pavement. I knew too well what he was doing. He needed to load everything in a specific way, making the most space possible. I stood there, watching him, letting him do his thing.

“I’m leaving space here for the cooler,” Dad said, letting me be privy to the inner workings of his mind. He started putting everything back inside, leaving the left side of the trunk open. “Normally, I’d want to put that in first, since it’s so big, but I guess we are going a little wild today.” He paused for a moment, turning to look at me with an amused grin. “Wild! Ha!”

Oh, Dad.

“Good one,” I said with a soft chuckle, mainly because of his reaction to the pun and not the pun itself. Off to the wilderness we went.

Mom and Tanya came out the front door of the house. They each had a handle to the cooler in one hand as they walked carefully toward us. Dad rushed over to meet them. He swiftly took it into his possession, carried it the rest of the way to the car, and slid it into its rightful spot.

“Great,” he said, satisfied. “Now to get the last-minute items.”

“I’ll open up the garage,” Mom said, as if she also knew Dad’s process. I let them handle the rest as I went back inside to retrieve Maggie.

“Mags!” I hollered, entering the house, but she was already patiently waiting at the door for me. Her eyes were wide, and she panted. She started doing circles around me. She hated being alone. Even if it was for a second.

“Do you want to go for a car ride?” I asked, and she stopped in her tracks. This devolved into her running around me even faster than before. She threw in some kind of silly-looking bunny hops. I let out a wholesome laugh at her utter cuteness.

“Okay, good girl! Sit,” I commanded. Her listening skills were great, just like I had trained them to be. I connected her turquoise collar to its matching leash. Together, we did a final walk around the house making sure that I had packed up everything Maggie would need. Her water bowl, her container of food, the bag of treats, and her blanket. They were nowhere to be found, which meant that I had successfully packed them all into the car.

I eyed her bin of toys, opting to bring one more with us. I hadn’t wanted to get it dirty, but I changed my mind. She’d be happy to have her favorite stuffed pickle available to chew during the car ride, so I picked up the soft green blob, and she excitedly mouthed it out of my hand. I smiled down at her, letting her carry it the rest of the way.

“Does anyone need anything else from inside?” I hollered to my family as I opened the front door once more. With overwhelming nos from the family, I locked the door behind me and joined the rest of them at the rear of the car.

They had made fast work. The trunk was now stuffed, with the cooler barely visible behind all the additional items around it. From what I could tell at a glance, they had added in the tents, a propane stove, and camping chairs. With how full the trunk was, it looked like we were going on a two-week trip, but luckily for me, we’d only be gone for the next five days.

With everything all set, we hopped into the car. Dad as the driver, Mom as the copilot, me sitting behind Dad, and Tanya seated behind Mom. Then, of course, there was Maggie, who was half on my lap and half on the middle seat. She shoved Pickle in my face, making me do nothing but smile.

I said a mental goodbye to Remy, and the house at large, as the garage door closed and we began to drive away.

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Meet the Author

Natalie Monteiro lives in Central Massachusetts where she enjoys embracing her creativity in whatever form it takes. From writing, to singing, to painting. Natalie also works as a biological research scientist in her daily life. She achieved a Master of Science in Pharmacology from the University of Minnesota and a Bachelor of Science in Neuroscience from the University of New Hampshire. Throughout her years of schooling, her creative roots never stopped calling to her, which ultimately resulted in her debut novel Vermont Paradise. It is her hope that Vermont Paradise can serve as a reminder for all to follow their passions. May the process bring much happiness.

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Book Spotlight/Giveaway: Swallows of Mostar by Neira Fazlovic

Title: Swallows of Mostar

Author: Neira Fazlovic

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/04/2025

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 216

Genre: Contemporary, YA/NA, sports, LGBT, sapphic, Sports romance, cliff diving, summer read, college, contemporary, Bosnia, Herzegovina

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Description

Two years after she moved to Mostar, a historic small town in Bosnia and Herzegovina, eighteen-year-old Franka Garcia still struggles with loneliness, language barriers, and terrible grades. After she accidentally falls off the famous Old Bridge, Franka is rescued by Mirna, a wickedly intelligent, but exasperated teenager obsessed with cliff diving.

Despite training all her life and frequently besting her peers, being a girl means Mirna can never participate in the centuries-old tradition of diving off the Old Bridge. But stubborn and determined Mirna won’t give up so easily.

After Franka’s near-perfect accidental dive, Mirna reluctantly takes on the challenge of teaching her all she knows about cliff diving. If Franka and Mirna want to compete, they must enact their unorthodox plan to take down the patriarchal system forbidding them from diving. Falling in love was never part of the plan.

Excerpt

Swallows of Mostar

Neira Fazlovic © 2025

All Rights Reserved

Čudna jada od Mosta grada

The morning sun was warm against Franka’s skin, and the pleasant summer wind ruffled her hair. Her lungs eagerly took in the first wisps of fresh air after weeks of being stuck inside with nothing but textbooks and math equations to keep her company. She leaned against the cold, stone wall of the ancient street that led to the Old Bridge, as the sweet and nutty taste of her ice cream caused her brain to produce some much-needed serotonin. With the River Neretva carrying away her worries, Franka looked up at the bright sun and smiled for the first time in weeks.

The scene in front of her was a common sight in this part of Mostar. The lanky guide was probably barely out of high school, with a subtle Slavic accent in his English and a vocabulary that could use a bit more work. Still, his flock of tourists (Canadian retirees, if Franka was correct) seemed interested in what he had to say about the city of Mostar, the often overlooked jewel of Southern Europe, as he called it, even if they probably could have read most of his speech on Wikipedia. Today, Franka didn’t mind because, only moments ago, a miracle happened: after two years of living in this city, she finally effortlessly understood a single sentence of the language.

The sentence was uttered, or to be more precise, yelled, through a thick accent by a tall young woman in a traditional Bosnian costume who sold trinkets to the tourists at the store closest to the Old Bridge. To be perfectly honest, the sentence wasn’t overly complex, but it was more than a hello or a plea to buy some souvenirs Franka would have recognized even before she was so cruelly punished by the gods and forced to live in Mostar. It wasn’t even directed to Franka or any other tourist, but to Ado, a short young man (at least, short for the land of giants that was Bosnia and Herzegovina) who was now running past Franka in only his bikini bathing suit, sporting a very smug grin on his youthful face. The sentence was simple, but it might as well have been poetry to Franka. “Ado, idiote, ne naginji se na ogradu, neki kreten ju je jučer razvalio!”

Some jerk busted the fence yesterday, and Ado was a fool for leaning against it. What a lovely statement!

Croatian was needlessly complicated, in Franka’s humble American opinion. So was Bosnian. And Serbian. Mostly because they were the same language with a few subtle differences, no matter what the native speakers would like to argue. Declinations, verb changes, and grammar cases, not to mention genders were all entirely unnecessary. Who decided “river” was female and “bridge” was male, and can their descendants pay for making Franka’s life in the city of Mostar somehow even more miserable?

But on this sunny summer morning, as she made her way to the Old Bridge, Franka at least got this one sentence correct. Maybe Mom was right. She really needed to leave the house.

*

“Franka, I just heard from a reputable source that it is summer outside. Can you believe it?” Mom had announced last night. She had walked into Franka’s, what could in the most generous terms be called “room,” without knocking and skipped over a pile of textbooks on the floor.

Franka sat behind her desk, a few days away from being completely taken over by the chaos that spread far and wide. Math, chemistry, and physics textbooks covered most of the available surfaces, other than the bed with messy covers that were probably supposed to be changed a few weeks ago. The seemingly endless quantity of mugs and bowls of cereal that kept appearing, but never disappearing, were very close to developing their own civilizations in this hot and moist environment. Franka didn’t have time to care. She had more important things to worry about.

She had finished studying chemistry for today (the urea cycle) and turned to math practice, littering her desk with scraps of paper filled with math formulas she understood perfectly. In English. Croatian was a different story.

“Really?” she asked, not even looking up at her mom, checking her result in the back of the textbook instead. It was correct, as was every single result she’d gotten for days had been. “I haven’t noticed,” she added in Croatian when she remembered this was her “no English summer.”

“Go out, please,” Mom said, switching back to English. “I beg of you. You have been in this house for a month! You will pass your exam.”

“I thought so last time, but here we are now!” Franka said. She was so lucky Bosnian colleges worked differently than the American ones, giving her an opportunity to retake her entrance exam in September and actually get in. The whole schooling system was unlike the one she was used to, where specialized colleges for pharmacology (as well as anything else) allowed her to skip undergrad studies and become a pharmacologist in just five short years. That was, if she could pass her exam.

“You have been stuck in this filth since June! That’s not healthy,” Mom continued, looking around as Franka suddenly became aware of the mess, the faint smell of stale air, and the boxes of stuff she should have unpacked two years ago. Still, she shook her head “no” and picked another math problem to focus on instead.

“Neither is not getting into college,” she said and tried to get back to her linear systems with two variables. Every list of questions from previous entrance exams for the Faculty of Pharmacy at the University of Mostar had at least one of those. If she wanted in, she had to be proficient, so god help her! “Very bad for the thyroid gland.”

“So, you want to cram two years’ worth of studying that you didn’t do into two months?” Mom asked, perfectly aware Franka might pull it off by any means necessary.

“That’s the plan,” Franka said and turned back to her math problem, but Mom wasn’t quitting.

“Go out. Please,” she begged again, but Franka wasn’t listening. “One hour?” she asked. “Can’t you spare one hour, so I don’t think you are losing your mind with all that science? One hour and you can get me off your back for at least a week.”

Franka paused for a moment. She was wasting time arguing right now, as she did for the past few days. It probably added up to an hour or so in total. Maybe this was the solution.

“You are in one of the most popular travel destinations in Eastern Europe. Enjoy it for an hour,” Mom continued. “Pretend to be a tourist. Grab some ice cream. Please. Mostar is a beautiful city. I promise you.”

“Very overrated,” Franka scoffed. When she was a kid, Franka had loved coming to Mostar for a few weeks every few years. Then she would go back home to Atlanta and tell her friends she went all the way to Europe and to this small country called Bosnia and Herzegovina in the Balkan Peninsula where her mom was born. Now that she was stuck here, it was hell. The city didn’t change, but everything else did. Mostar was a picturesque town, filled with history, world-famous for the sixteenth century Old Bridge that connected both sides over the gorgeous River Neretva that divided them. It was also too hot, too touristy, and too small (both in its size and the mentality of its people).

“Because our suburban hellhole in Atlanta was so much more fun,” Mom said, making Franka frown. If nothing else, Mostar was a living, breathing, organic city, even if half of the buildings were destroyed in the War and never fixed.

“I have to study. I don’t have time to mess around,” she continued. Tomorrow was the time to tackle the Krebs cycle again. Last time she lost at least ten points on that question. She knew it in English, but when she tried to explain it in Croatian, panic took the wheel of her brain and drove them both straight into a ditch.

“You want to practice the language? Go out, talk to an actual Herzegovinian other than me! It will do you wonders,” Mom continued, closing the textbook right in front of her.

That was the second argument that had given Franka pause. Coming to Mostar with barely any knowledge of the language despite her mom being born and raised here and then going to a school that was in English for two years really didn’t make any of this easier. Every time she thought she had the hang of it, someone would drop a new slang word or speak too fast and she would get lost again, so it was easier not to try at all.

“And you know, Isabella would love a selfie from the bridge. You know she loves bridges,” Mom added in her sweetest voice because she knew bringing up Aunt Bella would work.

And it did.

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Meet the Author

Neira Fazlovic is a writer of books about lesbians, ghosts and science. Veterinarian by trade (and soon to be a PhD), she has been writing since she was thirteen. She is a great fan of cats, typos and Bosnia and Herzegovina.

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