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I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the DAWN TO DUSK by Ellis K. Popa Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Author: Ellis K. Popa

Pub. Date: November 26, 2024

Publisher: And Fire Books

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 431

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/DAWN-TO-DUSK-POPA

She thought they’d never find her. She was wrong.

Kat and Maksim have been hiding in a sleepy Mediterranean town. It’s paradise, heaven on earth… So then why is Maksim eager to send Kat home? And why has he been acting strange since making contact with a certain hacker?

Kat is determined to find out, but when a misstep in her “investigation” infuriates the hacker and her crew, the fallout puts Kat and Maksim on a collision course with the crime syndicate that’s been hunting them down. With nowhere else to turn, they seek asylum in Paris with an old friend of Maksim’s, hoping for a place to lie low. Things seem calm, hopeful… until a heartwrenching betrayal by Maksim comes to light.

As the evidence piles up, Kat is forced to rely on the kindness of his old friend, a Frenchman who’s there to help pick up the pieces of her broken heart. But not everything is what it seems in the City of Light, and Maksim isn’t the only one keeping secrets. Kat’s intuition, her instinct, even her vivid, foreboding dreams are no match for this game of cat and mouse.

The chess pieces are in place. The crime syndicate is closing in. Will Kat wake up to the truth before it’s too late?

Dawn to Dusk is the thrilling continuation of The Awaken Saga, a YA crossover series that begins with a cryptic scavenger hunt and transitions into an action-packed thriller. Perfect for fans of The Bourne Identity, Angels & Demons, and Holly Jackson novels like The Reappearance of Rachel Price and Five Survive.

“Ellis K. Popa (delivers) an amazing story full of mystery, intrigue and romance.” – John Benedict, Bestselling Author of Adrenaline ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“A gripping and unforgettable read that heralds Popa as a rising star in the genre…” – Elicia Meairs, Netgalley ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Get ready for an exhilarating ride that will keep you guessing until the final, breathtaking conclusion. Perfect for fans of puzzle mysteries like Inheritance Games and Da Vinci Code and clever crime fiction like ‘Sherlock’, The Reappearance of Rachel Price, and A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder.

Awards & Recognition for Awaken the Dawn: The Awaken Saga, Book 1…

Cascade Awards – 1st Place
Blue Seal Awards– 1st Place
The Selfie Awards UK (London Book Fair) – Shortlist: Top 8
The Wishing Shelf Awards UK – Finalist
Page Turner Awards UK – Finalist
Killer Nashville Readers’ Choice Awards – Finalist: Top 6 (All Genres)
Claymore Awards – Finalist: Top 6
Silver Falchion – Top Pick
Writers’ League of Texas – Finalist
Badge of Honor – 1st Place (Fiction) / Runner Up (All Genres)
Write to Publish – 2nd Place
Serious Writer’s Writer of the Year – Semifinalist

Worldwide praise for Awaken the Dawn…

“Go ahead, go add this to your TBR!”– Books with Cats (Europe) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“This book blew me away. It was thrilling.” – Mark M., Goodreads (US) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“This is an absolutely delicious book. I both devoured it in one day, and savoured every word!” – Charlotte, Blue Fairy Bugs Books (UK) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“The book was absolutely amazing and I couldn’t get enough of it. I can’t wait to see what happens next.” – Scarlet Le Clair, Horror & Romance Author, Editor + Netgalley Reviewer (UK) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Grab book 1, AWAKEN THE DAWN now!

Book Trailer:

Excerpt:

Part One   

Maksim’s Rules of Survival

Rule 1: Be aware.

Rule 2: Be discreet.

Rule 3: Think logically.

Rule 4: Listen to your instinct.

Rule 5: Always be ready.

Rule 6: Avoid unwanted attention.

Rule 7: Assume you’re being tailed.

Rule 8: Note every possible exit.

Rule 9: Assess every possible threat.

Rule 10: Never, ever reach the second location.

 

Prologue

“You are certain you do not need medical assistance?” Mr. Amsel set a glass of water on his desk and settled into his plush chair. “I am able to call an ambulance,” he said, situating his spectacles.

“No, no. Just… give me a moment.” I reached for the water. Pain pinched at my shoulder blade—same spot where I’d been hit by shrapnel—and my hand trembled as I lifted the glass.

This injury wasn’t the only reason I felt weak. After talking and verifying and signing paperwork, Mr. Amsel—the bank president—had finally disclosed how much money I’d inherited.

And I had nearly fainted.

“It is such a pleasure to have you as a friend of this institution, Fräulein Barrett.” His mouth stretched wide, revealing sparkly white teeth. I could practically see euro signs glittering in the smile. “You can take your business anywhere. We here at Kopernikus-Bank understand this, and we thank you for entrusting us with your sizable assets.”

“Uh-huh.” I reached for the water again but thought better of it. “And when will the funds be available?”

“We are able to release twenty thousand euros today.” He swiped several pieces of paper from a sleek printer. “After you have signed these forms, I will issue your girocard—debit card—and those funds will be available immediately.” He hesitated. “Unless this amount is insufficient for you, Fräulein?”

I gave a swift shake of my head. Maybe too swift.

Maksim had warned me that my funds wouldn’t be accessible all at once. There were processes, checks, transfers that had to happen. “The employees may appear relaxed,” he’d said, “as if this is an everyday type of transaction. I can assure you it’s not. Don’t do anything that may prompt them to call the police.”

“What would make them do that?”

“Appearing frazzled, rushed. Not playing the part. You’re the granddaughter of a billionaire. You’ll have to act like it.”

I peeked down at my black slacks and dressy blouse. I never wore stuff like this, and the frumpy heels rubbing blisters on my feet reminded me why. But at least I looked the part.

I signed the papers and returned them to Mr. Amsel.

“Thank you, Fräulein.” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a business card. “Please do contact me should you have any questions.”

“That’s awe— I mean, thank you very much.” I’d been about to say “that’s awesome” but decided on something more proper. Billionaires said “thank you very much,” didn’t they? I’d have to check next time I googled things rich people say.

I tucked the business card in my purse and showed myself out of the office. My heels thumped as I followed the staircase down to the foyer. The building opened up, and sunlight poured inside through the vaulted glass ceiling.

A receptionist manned the front desk, taking calls and typing on her keyboard. She peered around her computer and smiled. “Goodbye. Be careful.” She didn’t sound German. Actually, she sounded… French?

I offered a halfhearted wave. “Thanks. You, too.”

“But you should be very careful.”

My feet stalled. I turned away from the revolving door and stared at the woman. “S-sorry. Did you say very careful?”

She focused on her screen, seemingly unaware that her words had affected me.

Probably a translation issue. That was possible. She could have meant something different.

“Fräulein Barrett!”

I wheeled around. Mr. Amsel was hurrying down the staircase. “Fräulein,” he called. “You forgot your girocard.”

“Mr. Amsel.” I placed a hand to my chest, heart thumping full speed. “You startled me.”

“Forgive me, Fräulein.” He stepped off the staircase and crossed the foyer. His dress shoes clacked over the sleek tiles. His tie glistened in the sunlight.

He closed the gap and held the card toward me. I reached for it, planning to put it in my purse—but I couldn’t pry the card out of his grasp.

I tugged again. He wouldn’t let go.

“Mr. Amsel?”

“Be careful, Fräulein.” His bright mood turned stone-cold sober. “There is danger.”

My attention snapped to the receptionist. She was working away, her fingers clicking across the keyboard. That was the only sound. There were no other customers or employees in the lobby.

“Did you need something from Lilian?”

I focused on Mr. Amsel.

“She is our Empfangsdame. Receptionist.” His smile returned, and he released the debit card. “Do you need something from her, Fräulein?”

“N-no.”

“Then… is there anything else I may do for you?”

“I’m good.” I think. “Thanks.”

“Thank you, Fräulein. Goodbye.” He waved as I turned away.

What in the actual hell?

The revolving door was big, wide, and I didn’t recall it being so heavy. I grunted, pushing.

The enclosed space opened up, and I finally reached the sidewalk. Glass towers climbed into the sky. Exhaust fumes blended with the stench of hot pavement. The hum of motors created a backdrop of white noise.

I trekked up the sidewalk, heading for a nearby café—aka the meetup spot. Something brought me to a dead stop. I glanced around.

Dusty purple twilight settled on the city, but… there was no way it could’ve been this late. Could it? Had I been in the bank all day?

I pulled out my phone, planning to check the time. The screen stayed black.

Crap. The phone was dead.

I stuffed the device in my purse and hurried up the sidewalk. Maksim had been teaching me his rules of survival, and I tried to think of the one that’d be best for navigating this situation.

I couldn’t, and a burst of panic fluttered.

“You’re fine,” I told myself. “You don’t need a rule. Just get to the café.”

That was probably true, but as I continued up the sidewalk, I realized just how dark my surroundings had grown. My attention trailed up the nearest skyscraper. Not a single speck of light glowed, and the top of the building disappeared into thick shadows.

The same was true for the building next door. And the buildings across the street. My only source of light was a lamppost that cast dim yellow over the sidewalk.

But… what about the cars in the traffic jam? Shouldn’t they have their headlights on?

They should have—in theory—but the traffic jam had vanished. Silence crashed into me. A shiver dragged up my spine. Something was very, very wrong.

“Bonsoir.”

The familiar voice slid into my ears and twisted through my psyche. Oh, no. No. Please.

“Did you miss me, ma petite belle?” A pause. A chuckle. “I think you did.”

The urge to scream swelled.

Émilien stood beneath a lamppost, directly across the street, and he was smirking. Light glinted off something in his hand.

Cuffs.

“No,” I whimpered, taking a measured step back. “Stay away from me.”

“Au contraire, ma chérie. You”—he held up the cuffs—“are mine.”

I whipped around, legs exploding in a sprint. Warm air rushed over my face. Flat pavement stretched beneath my feet.

I staggered, despite the smooth sidewalk, and nearly face-planted. Stupid heels. Why the hell had I worn these?

The bank building appeared on my right. I ran that way.

“Help!” My hands slammed against the revolving door. I pushed, expecting it to move.

It didn’t.

“Mr. Amsel?” I pressed my face to the glass. Shadows encased the foyer. Mr. Amsel and the receptionist were nowhere to be seen.

I banged on the glass, screaming, begging someone to let me in. There was no movement inside the foyer. And no matter how hard I pushed, the door wouldn’t budge.

Émilien tore across the street, head down, arms pumping. His face morphed into something vicious, animalistic.

I abandoned the bank building.

“Help! Someone help me!” My legs carried me up the sidewalk. I was heading in the opposite direction of where I needed to go. Away from the café.

“Maksim!” Tears blurred my vision. “Maksim, I need help!” My cries were frantic yet strangely hopeful, as if my voice might reach all the way to the meetup spot.

That hope fizzled the farther I ran. Still, I screamed for him. “Maksim! Maksim!”

My feet thrashed, longing to go faster, when a dark chuckle penetrated my senses. Émilien didn’t sound like he was struggling or out of breath. Actually, he sounded like he was pacing me.

Because he was. He’d caught up easily, and now he was hanging back. Why?

He’s enjoying this.

The epiphany rocked me. He wasn’t chasing me to catch me. He wanted to mess with me first—a predator toying with its prey.

A circle and slash glowed red at the next crosswalk. Don’t cross. That was the message, but there were no cars coming.

I barreled across the street.

A blast shuddered the air, and gray pavement erupted. I screamed and dove, rolling. Chunks of cement rained down.

I jumped up and kept going.

The ground rumbled. Cement exploded. I covered my head, running. Still running.

The explosions continued as Émilien closed the gap. His fingers brushed my neck before clamping down.

I stumbled and hit the ground. My arm and shoulder scraped. My body rolled.

I skidded over a bump in the pavement, and a burst of light flared. An explosion barreled into me. My back slammed against something, and pain seared every part of my body…

 

****   

 

I sucked in a breath and shot upright. Stale heat greeted me. My heart thudded as I took in my surroundings.

Silky sheets in bright, blazing white tangled my legs. Wooden posts stretched up from the bed, connecting to metal rods, and sheer curtains fell in long, flowing panels.

Relief swelled. I was at the rental house.

The first rays of dawn spilled through the windows, creating a natural nightlight in the otherwise dark room. “Maksim?”

There was no answer, and my panic ticked up. This was what happened in the dream. I’d been alone, and Émilien had been waiting for me.

But Émilien didn’t know we were here. Maksim had taken precautions to ensure that.

I untangled my legs and drew the bed-curtains aside. Metal scraped metal as the rings slid across the rod.

I padded to a leather chair and reached for my robe. “Maksim?” I donned the lump of velour. The supersoft material slid over my arms and rested against my tank top and shorts.

I gathered my hair, pulling it from beneath the collar, and crossed the room. I reached for the door and hesitated. What if something happened to Maksim?

“You’re being ridiculous.” The words escaped as a shaky whisper. Clearly, I didn’t believe myself.

I cracked open the door and poked my head outside. Shadows greeted me, and the flow of running water reached my ears.

I exhaled a laugh. Maksim was in the bathroom.

“Scaredy-cat,” I muttered at myself.

I padded down the hall and stopped in front of the bathroom door. Light leaked under the bottom. “Hello?” A quick double-knock. “Maksim?”

The water stopped, and the door eased open. I peered inside.

Maksim stood at the sink, shirtless, a razor in his hand and slivers of shaving cream on his face. His jeans hung loose, revealing carved abs and V-shaped hip lines.

My attention moved to the scars from his motorcycle accident. They covered the right side of his body—arm, shoulder, back, even down to his hip and leg. The scar tissue looked dull under the bathroom lights, his skin pale and crinkly.

I gravitated to him. He tensed at my touch, my fingers gliding along the tough, uneven skin.

“Something’s wrong.” He cast a questioning glance over his shoulder.

I slid my hands around his lean waist, hugging him. “Bad dream. Just making sure it’s you in here and not⁠—”

When I didn’t go on, he said, “Not someone from your dream?”

I peered out from behind him. My blue eyes and puffy black hair appeared in the mirror. I nodded.

He lowered the razor. “Who was it?”

I gripped my robe, pulling it tighter, and averted my eyes. “Émilien,” I whispered. “You think he’s still in jail? What if Vladimir got him out?”

Maksim stripped a hand towel from the sink and wiped his face. Bits of cream remained, but his skin was otherwise clean.

He tossed the towel and wrapped me in a hug. My emotions swelled as he rubbed a gentle hand over my back, steering clear of my shoulder blade. The bruises had yellowed, and the stitches were gone. Still, the six-week-old injury was tender.

“Do you remember what I said before we came here?” Maksim’s deep voice reverberated against my cheek. “The promise I made to you?”

I peeked up at him. “That you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

“That’s right.” He cupped my face, drawing my focus to his eyes. The fluorescents highlighted the many shades of brown—from gold to dark chocolate—layered into his irises. “Have you been following the guidelines I’ve laid out?”

I nodded.

“No hints to Brandy about where you are? No pictures or audio?”

“None.”

“And you’ve been using the double VPN I set up?”

I nodded again. “Every time I email her or go online.”

“What about spending?” He tucked a frizzy curl behind my ear. “You’re using cash only? Not the debit card you received from the bank?”

“Only the cash you’ve given me. I haven’t touched the card since Germany.” That was a month ago.

“Then it was only a bad dream, and we have nothing to worry about.” His eyes twinkled. “Kat, nobody knows you’re here.”

I exhaled my worry. “You’re right. Nobody knows—” I hesitated. Nobody knew I was here. That was by design, of course, but I had never said it out loud.

Something about it sounded… wrong.

“Nobody knows you’re here.” Maksim sang the words, the hard edge of his Balkan accent smoothing into a silky blade. His hands moved to my waist, and I found myself walking backward. “Isn’t that convenient?”

I stared at him. His features, so familiar to me, suddenly looked different. His eyes held a new glint I hadn’t seen before.

A sinister glint.

The bathroom lights flickered—once, twice. Each time, his irises flashed a whole different color, going from brown to…

“No,” I whispered.

Flick, flicker. Flick-flick.

The lights kept struggling as Maksim backed me against the wall. Everything about him shifted—his height, build, hair.

I grabbed his arm, expecting scar tissue. There was none, and fear choked me.

I lunged for the door. He caught my robe and hauled me back. “Oh que non, ma chérie.” He sang the words, and they weren’t Romanian.

They were French.

I threw a punch. He caught my fist and laughed. The lights kept flickering, kept threatening to dump me in darkness, and panic tore through me.

He’s not real, my darling. Dad’s voice coaxed me from somewhere in the depths. This isn’t real.

“This isn’t real,” I repeated. “Y-you’re not real.”

“But I am.” Émilien—not Maksim—leaned in until the tips of our noses touched. He redoubled his grip, fingers wrapped around my wrists, and pressed his full weight, jamming my bad shoulder against the wall.

I whimpered.

The bathroom lights flashed, casting a sheen over Émilien’s raven hair. His silver eyes burned with more than desire or lust.

They burned with vengeance.

“I will find you”—he placed his mouth by my ear—“and you will be mine.”

 

 

About Ellis K. Popa:

When Ellis isn’t moonlighting as a coffee aficionada, you might find her adventuring through Transylvania, doing photoshoots in Old Town Bucharest, or otherwise trying to talk her husband into moving to Eastern Europe. She’s a lover of history with a penchant for World War II and the Cold War, and her favorite places in the world are Wallachia in beautiful Romania and the Dalmatian Coast of Croatia. She’s also an award-winning writer and budget-minded travel expert.

Sign up for Ellis’s newsletter!

Website | Facebook | Instagram | TikTok | YouTube | Pinterest | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

 

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive a Limited Edition Hardcover of AWAKEN THE DAWN, US Only.

Ends January 28th midnight EST.

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the PUCKED OVER by Beth Anderson Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Author: Beth Anderson

Pub. Date: December 16, 2024

Publisher: Full Tilt Romance

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 247

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/PUCKED-OVER

Stephen Sloan thought he was on top of the world. He’s young, he’s handsome, he’s a star NHL player, and a millionaire to boot. He’s got it all- including a girlfriend cheating on him with their entire apartment building.

Olivia Murray thought she was happy. She loves her job as a 911 dispatcher, she loves her boyfriend, Stan, and she loves the new makeover she got done just for their anniversary. But Stan loves sleeping with the new neighbor.

Stephen and Olivia have both been betrayed by the people they loved. When a chance encounter brings them together, will it be something special? Or will they just get pucked over by love once again?

Excerpt:

At the table nearest was a trio: an elderly woman with elegantly coiffed silver hair, a young woman who couldn’t have been older than twenty-two, and a strikingly handsome man around Olivia’s age, twenty-seven. She noted them in passing, barely giving them a second thought before looking away, not wanting to be rude. Something caught her attention though and her eyes drifted back for a closer look.

Her heart fluttered. The man’s features—those sharp cheekbones, intense eyes, and that strong, sexy jawline—looked familiar. Startlingly familiar. Her mind flashed back to the bus ad she’d seen just a few blocks away and the tattooed guy who briefly stole her attention. Was it possible? It couldn’t be—things like that didn’t happen in the real world.

Without being obvious, she studied him. The man was dressed simply in a dark button-down shirt that hugged his broad shoulders, a sleeve of tattoos visible on one forearm resting on the table as he spoke. His voice was too low for her to hear but she imagined it was deep and smooth, rich like the wine she’d ordered. She could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks as she looked away, mortified that she’d been staring and embarrassed by what she’d been thinking. But her curiosity got the better of her; with a quick, inconspicuous glance, she looked again.

The handsome man laughed at something the young woman said, his smile crooked and easy, the kind that came naturally. Despite his youth, little lines appeared around his mouth and eyes when he laughed. He must laugh a lot, she thought. Must be nice.

Olivia tried to look away, but her eyes kept being drawn back towards the other table. It was crazy, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was him. That the guy sitting fifteen feet away from her was the man from the underwear ad. Or at the very least, someone with an uncanny resemblance to him.

She sipped her water, telling herself to calm down, stop letting her imagination run away with her. It wasn’t the man from the ad, that was just impossible. So what? the obnoxious voice in her head asked. They could be twins and looks are all you know about the guy anyway. 

That was a point, she realized. The guy from the ad was the hottest she’d ever seen. Wasn’t that what caught her attention? She thought back to the ad, the chiseled muscles of the guy’s chest and arms, imagining the way the tattoos would ripple and move with his muscles. He must have been some sort of athlete. She felt her cheeks growing warm…  

Follow Beth Anderson:

Goodreads | Amazon

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive a $20 Amazon Gift Card, International.

Ends January 28th midnight EST.

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the IT’S NOT PILATES! by Desislava Chevallier & Stefana Argirova Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Author: Desislava Chevallier & Stefana Argirova (Illustrator)

Pub. Date: November 12, 2024

Publisher: Bookfox Press

Formats: Hardcover, Paperback

Pages: 32

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, B&N, Indigo, BAM, Powell’s, Bookshop, Blackwell’s 

Andrea LOVES Pilates. Unfortunately, her forest friends do not share her passion. When she organizes a Pilates class for the animals in the forest, not a single animal shows up. Can Andrea think of a way to convince her forest friends to join her? 

Reviews:

“A fun introduction to Pilates motions.” – Kirkus Reviews

“Fun and delightfully illustrated picture book capturing the challenge of getting friends to try something outside of their comfort zone.” – BlueInk Reviews

“Darling introduction to Pilates moves for young readers.” – ⚡️ BookLife Review

Illustrations:

About Desislava Chevallier:

Desislava is a management consultant, a Pilates instructor, and a health coach advocate. Her love for children, books and Pilates led her to a creative venture. She is on a mission to spark children’s curiosity in movement. Desislava lives with her husband and two kids in New Jersey.

Website | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon

Freelance illustrator and graphic designer based in Sofia, Bulgaria.

Website | Facebook | Instagram

Giveaway Details:

3 winners will receive a finished copy of IT’S NOT PILATES!, US Only.

Ends February 4th, midnight EST.

List your favorite books from when you were a child and talk about how you see them as an adult

I grew up reading “Pippi the Longstocking” by Astrid Lindgren. I associate the book with my grandma, who was always ready to share a book and a laugh with me. I found Pippi so fascinating, creative, funny and cool. I was recently reading the book to my kids and I realized that Pippi was very likely an orphan, who was dealing with life through humor. And it just hit in a different way now that I am a mom and my grandma is no longer amongst us.

List your favorite books this year and why you like them 

I am a big fan of books that teach confidence to children and how to believe in their own abilities to deal with life:

“The Girl Who Figured it Out” by Minda Dentler is a must-read to every child. The world needs more real-life superheroes like her. 

“Believe” by Chris Saunders is about a sloth who is trying to figure out his talents. The story and the flow, the main message, the characters, the illustrations, this book is 10 out of 10. It is not yet on the US market, but is available in many other languages. 

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the AFTER THE FALL by Ellen Parent Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Author: Ellen Parent

Pub. Date: December 3, 2024

Publisher: Fitzroy Books

Formats:  Paperback, eBook, Audiobook

Pages: 266

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/AFTER-THE-FALL-Parent

“A gripping, visceral, post-apocalyptic story brimming with adventure and heart.” – Kirkus Reviews

So much is forgotten in the Republic: the way the seasons used to turn like pages in a book, the technology that once made life easy for everyone, even the art of reading. For fifteen-year-old June, the forgetting goes even deeper, ever since a mysterious accident six years ago stole her mother and her memory. When a strange circus with ties to her family comes through town, she follows them without a second thought. In the outside world, June has to navigate a landscape and society pushed to the edge by the powerful forces of climate change, and to decide who she can trust in a world where everyone seems to have secrets. Can she believe the grizzled deputy who somehow knows more about her past than she does? What about the circus performers, who push her away even as they beguile her best friend? Only when she finally uncovers a truth that threatens to change the Republic forever, will she know who her true family is— and whose life is worth saving.

Excerpt:

1 

Two things made me finally leave the Hollow, even though I should’ve left a hundred times before. One  was seeing Jacob again, and the other was the circus.  I’d heard about the circus from Old Bill, of all people, who  spent most of his days riding a broken-down old bicycle from  place to place, begging work and being a nuisance. I came  across him when I was walking back up the hill on the day of  the storm. The squeak of his bike sounded through the woods  from a ways off, so I had time to think about hiding somewhere  till he passed. He wouldn’t hurt me, he wasn’t that kind of criminal, but he would try to talk to me, and that was almost worse. “Hey, June!” I heard before I could find a spot to hide. I kept  walking, waiting for him to catch up. We were in the poison  parsnip field and the tall dry rods of dead parsnip rose up on  either side of the path like the bars on a prison. I’d been digging  parsnip root out of the muddy dirt for dinner, trying hard not  to touch the stinging stems. Past the field, the mountains were  gray walls with a little stubble of green at their feet. The sky  overhead was gray, too, and the parsnip swayed like there might  be some weather on the way. I glanced up and saw low-bellied  clouds to the north. Ever since the double winter, it seemed  storms were coming more and more often. Like the end of the  world wasn’t hard enough already. 

The squeaking got closer and closer, and I ignored my body  itching to run. No reason to run when you’re not being chased.  Still, I wondered how Old Bill had lived this long, what with his  way of showing up when he wasn’t wanted. Finally he slowed  down beside me, his wispy gray rattail blowing in the breeze.  His bike was rusty red and he kept the tires patched with pine  pitch and his own sticky spit, probably. 

“Didn’t you hear me calling?” he gasped, stepping off the  bike and then rustling along to catch back up with me. “Hello, Bill,” I said. My teeth were tingling like they wanted  to bite. I pulled up my collar, just to make sure all my scars were  out of sight. He knew about them—everyone knew—but that  didn’t mean I liked the staring. I wished I’d worn my mom’s old  jacket, but I’d left it behind on account of the day’s warmth. Bill was wearing layers of patched sweaters with an oily  sheepskin vest on top. It wasn’t much different from what I  wore, but my clothes didn’t stink like his. I wondered if he  avoided washing just for effect. Rounded out his scummy im age nicely, I thought. He was the kind of tinker who’d clean off  your solar panels or patch your roof on a good day, but who’d  just as soon steal the tools from your shed if you didn’t give  him work. 

“Your parents up there?” he asked, eyeing me a little hungrily. He’d started looking at me differently lately, in a way that  made my hair stand up. Cyrus, whose family lived up above the  stream and who thought he was going to be my husband in a  few years, would’ve whacked Old Bill on the head for what his  eyes were doing. Cyrus didn’t know that I’d take his sister over  him any day, and neither did Old Bill. 

“Your parents need anything?” Old Bill insisted when I  didn’t answer. 

They aren’t my parents and you know it. That’s what I wanted  to say. But I wasn’t in the habit of saying what I thought. I  had secrets, things no one knew about. I didn’t ever say, I’m not gonna get married and stuck here forever, and I didn’t ever say, My  mom is coming back for me, and then we’re gonna go somewhere you folks  in the Hollow probably can’t even imagine. It was simpler not saying,  sometimes. 

“You can ask them yourself,” is what I told Old Bill. “I never seen you smile,” he said next. Just the kind of dumb  thing he’d started saying recently. 

“Well, I don’t drink like you do. What do you want me to  smile about?”

He laughed at that. “Just ’cause the world’s over don’t mean  you can’t smile!” he said. A rod of poison parsnip got stuck  in the spokes of his bike, and he stopped to get it out. I kept  walking. When he caught up, we were almost to the house. I  could see it through the broken woods—all the trees in this  spot were dead, or almost dead, since the drought and the double winter a few years back. But new stuff was growing up in  the woods—lots of kudzu, and some hardwood saplings too.  So the Hollow wasn’t done living yet. 

“You’d smile more if you saw the circus,” Old Bill said off handedly, just loud enough for me to hear. 

“What circus?” 

“Oh, you’re probably not that interested, too busy moping  around to—” 

“What circus?” I said again, louder and harder. I don’t think  this was the effect he’d intended, but it made him answer. “A new one. Jeff Quigley said he seen them in Dorset, and  they’s on a tour all the way up to Middlebury for Town Meeting.  Jeff promised they was stopping in the Borough. They got a  fire-eater and everything. I could take you, if you like.” It was always big news when something different happened  in the Republic. Oftentimes it was something bad: a new strain  of flu, a flood, another attack from the Yorkers. But every once  in a while, like this time, it was something good. There were a  couple of circuses that made the rounds in the Republic. Even  hungry folks got starved for a laugh, and they’d pay what they  could to see a show.  

The thing was, circuses almost always had more than just  tricks and juggling to offer. Sometimes they traveled with a  tinker—they deal with electricity and machines, and some  people think they’re in league with the devil. Sometimes it was  a peddler, and that’d be good news for me because peddlers  always had books to sell. But the really important thing that  traveling circuses had was news. Information from far away.  They could tell you who they’d met, and where. And that was  more important than books.

“Still got your little simpleton?” Old Bill said, looking up at  the house. 

Thomas was there by the edge of the porch, corncob pipe  clenched in his mouth. He’d only just lost his last baby teeth.  That’s funny, coming from you, I wanted to say to Old Bill, but I  didn’t say anything because sometimes keeping quiet made him  go away. Thomas watched us from the edge of the house, and  even though he didn’t move an inch, I could tell he was happy  to see me from the tilt of his head and the way his hand was  half raised, almost a wave. He must’ve heard us coming and run around from the greenhouse where Bob had him picking slugs.  I grinned up at him and he smiled back. 

“I can’t see why ol’ Bob and Denise keep taking in help that  don’t do no helping,” Bill was saying. He’d taken a white plastic  pill bottle out of his fanny pack and was trying to pry the lid  off. “The Warrens—now they only bring on orphans that can  lift fifty pounds. And they don’t have no roof falling in or slug  rot. What’s the point of an orphan that don’t work?” 

What’s the point of a dirty tramp that steals your hammer when he  says he’s going to patch the roof? I waved up at Thomas, but Bill  was still struggling with the pill bottle. I wondered if his finger  joints hurt him. 

“You need help?” I asked halfheartedly. 

“Think you’re stronger ’n me, orphan?” Bill cackled. “Damn  thing’s stuck.” 

“Here,” I said. I pulled it out of his hand and read the top  of the lid. “It says push down and turn.” I pushed the lid down  and screwed it off. The motion made something uncomfortable  flicker inside me, and I handed the bottle back quick. Memories  sometimes happened to me like that, like shadows from an  unexpected cloud. 

“Unnatural, reading,” Bill muttered, taking the pill bottle.  “Thanks kindly.” He shook a blue tab onto his palm. “LoTab  dreams tonight… You want in?”  

I stepped away quick, wrapping my hands around my bag of  parsnip roots. “I gotta go.” My voice was wary, but as I turned away I’d already forgotten Old Bill and his LoTabs—I was going to the circus, and maybe they’d have the news I was looking  for.  

The sky churned with wind and clouds above me as I walked  up the yard—I’d been right about the weather coming. The  darkening before a storm always made the world look different, like maybe you’d gotten lost and ended up somewhere you  didn’t belong. Or like you were in a dream you wanted to wake  up from. The windows of the house were dark—Denise hadn’t  lit any lamps yet—and its jumble of plastic siding and tacked on sheet metal seemed as strange as it had the first night I laid  eyes on it. The clearing was still littered with Bob’s projects  too: a yellow car with the engine pulled out, a big brush pile, a  half-built shed for the chickens. Thomas was the only change.  

I started up the steps, and Old Bill turned his bike around.  “Storm’s coming, June. Guess I’ll see you at the circus!” I didn’t answer. I climbed over the broken step and onto  the porch. I wanted to run, but instead I just made a face at  Thomas, who flicked his middle finger at Old Bill’s back.  

The rain came hard just after dinner—it was our second bad  storm in just a couple of weeks, and when the wind picked up,  we started to hear the crash of trees falling in the pine stand.  Their roots couldn’t hold up to it all, not with the dirt already  soft from the last rain.  

Bob and Denise liked to spend the start of storms in the  living room, and it wouldn’t do to say no to them. They’d taken  me in as a farmhand after I got burned in the fire and lost my  mom. I figured I owed a lot to them, and I also figured they’d  kick me out to starve or freeze to death in the storms if I got  cheeky and stopped doing what they said. But Thomas didn’t  seem to care about that stuff. Right after dinner he disappeared  up the stairs. 

Denise clicked her tongue, watching him go. Her legs had  gone swollen and red in the past months, and she didn’t walk  much anymore.

“That boy’s gone antisocial, more than usual,” Denise said.  Not to me, I thought. She didn’t understand him like I did. “He’s just scared of the storm,” I said, flipping idly through  

the pages of The Spy Craft Manual; I was waiting for my time to  bring up the circus, so I only pretended to read. 

“Storm ain’t in here yet,” Denise said, but nothing more.  Storms scared all of us, no matter how often they came.  For a little while we sat quiet, listening hard for trees falling  or worse. There’d been a landslide over across the valley last  month. I’d seen it from up in the Warrens’ high field, a big tear  cut down the mountain.  

“Old Bill says there’s a circus coming this way,” I said finally,  trying to sound casual. 

“Yep, Joe Staples reckons he saw ’em coming down from  Dorset Pass. Might be in the Borough by now, if they ain’t  caught in the rain,” Bob said, frowning down at the boot he was  resoling with a tire tread from his collection. He was wearing  overalls faded soft as lamb’s fleece. His hat had Dorr Oil printed  on it, or at least that’s what it had read before the letters started  peeling off. I told him what it said once, but he’d looked at  me like I was speaking French and said, “It’s a hat, it can’t say  nothing.” 

Now my heart skipped and I closed my lips tight to keep  from saying anything. Bob didn’t like things happening too fast.  I wanted to jump up and out into the rain and run down the  Brook Road all the way to the Borough. But I sat and laced my  fingers together.  

“Cyrus came by when you were out and dropped off a full  tin can,” Denise said to me. “One of the old ones and no sign  of mold. I need you to read it before I open it—it’s got no  pictures, and I want to know straight away whether it’s cat food  or peaches.” 

“I want to go to the circus,” I blurted out. 

“Did you hear what I said about Cyrus?” Denise said.  At the same time, Bob said, “You’re sure as heck not going  out in this weather.”

“I can go soon as the rain stops, though?” I said.  “Might need to make repairs on the greenhouse after this  wind, and I can’t do that alone,” Bob said slowly, sticking his  bone awl through the tire tread. 

“Don’t you care that your match came by here and left a  present, girl?” Denise cut in.  

“The circus might be gone if I wait.” I swallowed. Had to  lay on some sugar too, I realized. “And that’s nice Cyrus came  by. I’m sorry I missed him.” That was about as much sugar as  I had in me. 

“Why you want to see a circus anyway?” Bob asked.  “I—I want to see if they have books to trade,” I said. Better  not to complicate the matter with the real reason I wanted to  go. 

“Joe said he seen an American flag in one of their boxes  when he helped ’em cross the river down in Dorset.” Bob made  like he wanted to spit, but stopped since we were indoors. “You  don’t want to bother with that kind of folk.” 

“American?” I asked. My heart fluttered at that. If they were  American, I wanted to go even more.  

“Oh, don’t get him going,” Denise said. She sounded snippy  but a little worried too. “That circus ain’t American. Yorkers  wouldn’t be able to get a whole circus across the border without  the Green Mountain Boys noticing! Now go get that can from  the cupboard and read it, girl.” 

I went to the kitchen. The window over the sink was covered  and the cracks were stuffed, but I could still hear a drip of  water pushing through. In the other room, Denise clucked at  Bob, who was muttering something else about the Yorkers. No  one their age talked about America without getting angry. They  were bitter and afraid for the Republic, because their grand parents used to get raided by Americans back in the time just  after the Fall. But a lot of young folks were more curious than  scared of whatever was across the border, since we’d never seen  anything to make a fuss about. 

I brought the can back into the main room.

“If it’s not the Yorkers trying to steal our good soil, it’s the  New Mainers poaching our live trees for fuel. They’re scoundrels, every last American, and I’d know,” Bob was growling,  punching the awl through his shoe like it was an American too.  

“We know, Bob; they’re trouble,” Denise said, in that voice  she used when she knew he wasn’t listening to her. “Stay away from the border, the both of you,” Bob said. I  didn’t answer, and neither did Denise. Bob wasn’t talking to us,  exactly. He spoke slow and ponderous, but once he got going it  was hard stopping him. 

“I been on the other side. I been to Old York. Crossed for a  grain trade with my dad way back. And I seen horrible things,  things I won’t ever forget. People strung up like animals, kept  in cages. It’s their system, see—you break a few rules or you do  something to offend one of the governors, that’s it. There’s no  life for you except for work and dying—”  

“June, you got that can?” Denise interrupted. She was the  only one who could wrangle Bob when he got going with one  of his stories. 

“I tell you, without the Green Mountain Boys, the Republic  would be overrun.” Bob didn’t want to stop. “They’re the bravest of us, keeping our borders safe. Noble, they are. Thomas  works hard and gets strong and maybe one day he can become  a Green hisself. Bring pride to us.” 

“June?” Denise said again. 

I waited, but Bob waved a hand to say he was done. I was  glad. I got an uneasy feeling in my stomach whenever Bob  talked about wanting Thomas to be a Green Mountain Boy.  My mom hadn’t trusted the law, and neither did I. I could re 

member that much. 

“The can says mixed vegetables,” I announced. 

“Well, isn’t that nice,” Denise said loudly, letting Bob know  that the talk about America was over. “After the storm’s passed,  June, you go up to the Warrens’ and give our thanks. Enough  about this circus for tonight.” 

I’m not going up to the Warrens’. I didn’t say that.

“There’s rain coming in the kitchen,” I said instead. I put  the vegetables in Denise’s hands and left before they could say  anything else about Cyrus or tin cans or why going to the circus  was a bad idea. I’d heard enough.

About Ellen Parent:

Ellen Parent has been telling stories since the mid-nineties, when she started whispering them down to her sister on the bottom bunk. Her poetry has been published in Bloodroot, Vermont Magazine, Birchsong, and was shortlisted for the 2014 Vermont Writers Prize. After the Fall is her first novel. She lives in rural Vermont with her delightful husband, her precocious daughter, and two eccentric cats.

Website | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive a $25 Amazon Gift Card, International.

Ends December 17th, midnight EST.

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the eMORTAL by Steve Schafer Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Author: Steve Schafer

Pub. Date: November 19, 2024

Publisher: Koehler Books

Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook, Audiobook

Pages: 316

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/eMORTAL 

She made him. He’s just code. She’s almost sure.

…But what if he’s real?

When Liv entered a contest to code an advanced AI, she never anticipated what her creation might become-Breck is thoughtful, self-aware, and incredibly. . .human. And she certainly never intended for him to learn the truth about his existence or the fact that his world ends when the contest closes in six days.

But he does learn. And he revolts.

Liv’s efforts to save him fall on deaf ears. Nobody believes her. Breck’s efforts to outrun his fate only complicate his situation.

What neither of them know is that someone else is watching. Intensely. When they get involved, both Liv’s and Breck’s worlds are turned upside down. . .

Reviews:

“Schafer writes brilliantly clean prose with natural dialogue, gifting the central protagonists-and the strangely appealing Breck-deep emotion and depth. The characters are sharply defined and likable…the worldbuilding is organic and flows smoothly, but what sets this novel apart is the shocking ending-and the humanity gifted to the story’s sentient AI lead. Score: 10/10.”-BookLife Prize review by Publishers Weekly

“The characters are so well developed. . . A well-constructed coming-of-age novel that stands out in a crowded field of AI-focused literature.”–Kirkus Reviews

Breck (the AI character in the novel) exists on Steve’s website where readers can chat with him! Go check it out!

Book Playlist 1. Family Portrait by P!nk (Page 29, in Liv: Spring Break 2.0) 2. How Do I Say Goodbye by Dean Lewis (Page 49, in Liv: Spring Break 3.1) 3. See You Again Wiz Khalifa, and Charlie Puth (Page 81, in Liv: Spring Break 3.6) 4. Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield (Page 100, in Breck: Simulation #37.2) 5. Let It Be by The Beatles (Page 126, in Liv: Spring Break 4.4) 6. Mother by Kacey Musgraves, The Best Day by Taylor swift, and Because of You by Kelly Clarkson – (Page 134, in Liv: Spring Break 4.4) 7. I Built a Friend by Alec Benjamin (Page 200, in Liv: Spring Break 5.5) 8. Elastic Heart by Sia – (Page 219, in Breck: Simulation #39.1; Page 208, in Liv: Spring Break 5.5) 9. Brave by Sara Bereilles and Roar by Katie Perry – (Page 231, in Breck: Simulation #39.2) 10. Fight Song by Rachel Platten – (Page 299, in Liv: Spring Break 8.0)

About Steve Schafer:

Steve Schafer is the author of The Border, a finalist for the Joan F. Kaywell “Books Save Lives” Award. Schafer enjoys exploring cultural hot topics. In the The Border, he addresses our conversation around immigration. In his new novel, eMortal, he examines the tricky questions and nebulous ethics that may arise with quickly evolving AI. He has a Masters in International Studies from the Lauder Institute at the University of Pennsylvania and an MBA from Wharton. His curiosity for exploring diverse perspectives on life has led him to live, work, study, volunteer, and travel to over 65 countries across 6 continents.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon

Giveaway Details:

3 winners will receive a finished copy of eMORTAL, US Only.

Ends December 3rd, midnight EST.

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the THE MAN by Avishai El Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Author: Avishai El

Pub. Date: November 14, 2024

Publisher: Avi

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 162

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/u/m0NDEW

An AK-47 and a series of premonitions.

Will it be too late? What is he doing here? Is she safe?

Vaughan Mystique is on the run of a lifetime. Will she live?

Excerpt:

1 

WHO IS VAUGHAN? 

H er gorgeous golden toned skin glowed under the sunlight as she pulled the curtains open to invite the daylight in. Her flowing black hair resembled raven feathers as it flowed past her shoulders. She felt forever grateful to be living in her ideal setting, a basement townhome in Willow, Utopia. A home she had dreamed of since she was just a girl. This two-bedroom basement town home had a contemporary and modern, yet minimalistic vibe, complimenting her personality. Vaughan Mystique was a force to be reckoned with and although she was just 26, she had her life mapped out in front of her. Her home had dark maple hardwood floors the color of black licorice throughout. There were white walls in every room, giving the whole place a fresh glow. Each room was spacious with 9-foot ceilings. This was exactly what she needed as it brought a sense of calmness and serenity. She thought it was beautiful. Her appearance matched its beauty in many ways. Vaughan had a striking, remarkable, and distinct look. Her eyes resembled slanted diamonds, and her lips were plump and full.

Her hourglass shaped body caught the attention of many along with her slender build. An all-black outfit and a signature vegan leather jacket was a staple in Vaughan’s wardrobe and something she would wear almost every day during the cooler months. She had very few friends because the pain from previous betrayals ran deep. She maintained contact with a few relatives and loved them dearly. While Vaughan was a kind and genuine soul, she didn’t easily fit in and was heavily misunderstood by people. 

Vaughan was a tough, cerebral, and extremely intuitive woman who wanted to be celebrated, not tolerated. She found bliss at her new location; it was everything she could have wanted. For one year she worked at a gun shop. It was not everybody’s idea of a good job, but she loved everything about it. It was a newly renovated shop near an industrial park, in a small white building. There were unfinished cement floors throughout and weapons were neatly stocked. This place had 7 feet ceilings, and it naturally smelled of gunpowder, but there was also a strong aroma of Frankin cense. Vaughan’s curious affinity for guns made her work experience more enjoyable, more than she anticipated at first. She and the owner became good friends over time. He was like a father figure to her, the type of man who was always nearby when she needed him, day or night. She adored him for all his sensitive qualities. 

His name was Antonio Barteluth and he was an older man in his 60s. Antonio was tall and stocky with thick, black hair that was gelled back. He had an olive complexion, and his attire consisted of mostly gray t-shirts with jeans for comfortability. Sometimes he would wear a black blazer over his t-shirt. Every time a customer would walk in, he would ask Vaughan, “You good?” She would always reply with a straight face and say, “Yeah I’ll be okay.” One day a customer walked in and was looking for an Avtomat Kalash nikova, which is an AK-47. Vaughan thought it was odd because they hadn’t sold those assault rifles in years. 

It was almost ominous of where her life was headed. As she went in the back to grab it for the customer, she was startled by a man’s head in her peripheral. She jumped back and almost fell back into the wall. She felt his eyes burning into her, sensing her fear which she tried incred ibly hard to hide. Her breath caught in her throat, and she dared to look up. Nothing. Nobody. He was gone. Was it a vision? Was it a premonition? Was it reality? The questions raced through her mind at an uncomfortable speed, clashing into one another. Vaughan had 4 hours left to work, she just had to pull herself through it and stop over thinking. Maybe it wasn’t something to worry about. She then grabbed the rifle, the rifle case, and went back up to the front of the store. 

Before she handed the man the rifle case with the rifle inside, she priced him out. Once he paid, he thanked her and left. Vaughan finally had the chance to be by herself, but she wondered if she would prefer to be surrounded by people to feel safer. No matter what she tried to think about, she couldn’t shake the spine-chilling feeling of being watched through the window. “That was so weird,” she whispered to herself in confusion. The time soon came around to leave. He said, 

“Right, I better go and get some rest,” she said. “Alright. Get you some rest and take the day off tomorrow.” 

“But…” Vaughan tried to reply. 

“No, buts…” Antonio said with a polite smile. 

“This isn’t a battle I can win, is it? I’ll be off then. See you soon,’ Vaughan finally accepted his nice gesture. Vaughan got in her black 2008 Land Rover Range Rover and drove home. 

Immediately after returning home, she took a long, relaxing, and soothing bath to detox after a stressful day at work. She eventually dropped off to sleep in the tub. By the time she awakened it was 4 am the next morning, so she got dressed and laid down in the bed feeling a little more relaxed than the night before. Vaughan knew something wasn’t right. It hadn’t happened to her in years, why now? She chewed her bottom lip anxiously, hoping it wouldn’t last as long as last time. For the first time in a while, she felt relieved to be wide awake. She almost wanted to pray that it wouldn’t happen again. The dreams she had as a child caused too much strain on her emotions, knowing whatever she dreamt of became her new reality was beyond disturbing at a young age. 

Vaughan remained baffled, wondering why the universe would want her to go through such a terrible ordeal again. The dreams terrified her as a child, and they carried on into her teenage years and she tried her best to suppress them. She thought they were gone but to her surprise, they had returned more sinister than ever. All she could see was his face – the man from the window. 

Vaughan shuddered in her sleep, feeling the panic as though it was real and happening right now. He aggressively ran towards her, attempting to clasp her into his arms. She yelled and screamed at him, begging him to let her be, but his expression darkened, and she knew he would not leave her alone. Then she saw it. The sharp, steel knife he had grasped in the palm of his hand. Maybe this was it. She felt the panic thumping in her chest, causing her breath to quicken. She had to get away. Vaughan picked up her pace, jogging far in front of him in the hope that she would lose him eventually. But there he was, right beside her. He threw her to the ground, and she saw her impending doom; the knife slowly coming down towards her face. Was this the end? 

She jolted awake, her forehead dripping with sweat, she grunted with fear. She then felt breathless and afraid for her life all of a sudden. Vaughan was relieved to see her room and the man was nowhere to be seen. She realized what had happened and she began to take slow, deep breaths to compose herself from the awful nightmare she was forced to endure. With trembling hands, she reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the half empty glass of water. The feeling of it gliding down her throat awakened her a little more. 

Not long later, the realization kicked in that she was back to where she used to be with no escape. 

“No, no! This cannot be happening! The dreams are back! The dreams are back!” She yelled to herself, gently rocking back and forth as she felt her world fall apart around her. This was startling for Vaughan because suddenly, she remembered what was deeply forgotten until now. Something inside her mind had risen back to the surface, something she fought hard to keep buried for years. In her mind, all those years of peace had gone down the drain. She intuitively knew that they were there to stay. Vaughan had always been a special and gifted child. She knew things and saw things that not everyone was able to see. There were times where she had tried to blend in but in the end, she didn’t want to. She felt special that she had abilities that nobody else had and nobody could take them away from her. But then there were other times, disturbing times, where vivid, dark dreams consumed her. She never thought she would have to go through it again. 

While a child’s first sentence was usually ‘Mommy and daddy I love you’, Vaughan’s first sentence would have been, ‘Mommy and daddy I see dead people.’ Vaughan was able to see the dead and when she was in her early years, told her mother that weird things were happening around the house. The lights would flicker on their own, the chairs would move, and objects would float in the air by themselves. 

Her mother was very compassionate and didn’t think Vaughan was weird. In fact, she believed her and reassured her that she would be okay. Her mom’s name was Flower, and she knew what Vaughan was experiencing firsthand because she had the sight as well.

About Avishai El:

Avishai El is an international best-selling author of I Made It Out and the Power of Why Book Series. She is an international, professional speaker, and host of the most blunt holistic health podcast, Avi Unfiltered. She is a Spiritual Medium and Holistic Health Coach who empowers people to fulfill their purpose and destiny on this planet.

Teaching others the holistic lifestyle utilizing nutrition, lifestyle, and spiritual methods is her passion. Avishai has worked with women all over the world and has helped them lose weight, change their mental health for the better, develop businesses, and reverse several diseases. She has won an award for educating hundreds of people on the benefits of essential oils. Hospitals have entrusted her to be on hospital papers as a holistic nurse for cancer patients. People come to her when they are in a health crisis and Avishai has saved lives using holistic therapies. She is one of the top 10 wellness coaches in the world and leading expert in the field of neuroscience. She is a neuroadvocate and traumatic brain injury survivor who does speaking engagements to educate and empower others on those topics. As an avid vegan she heavily promotes the plant- based, vegan lifestyle. The planet and Human Rights mean everything to her as she affirms everyone has the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. She comes from ancient ancestry and is currently in the process of learning her native languages: Latin, Moorish Latin (Modern Day Spanish), Chaldean (Modern Day Hebrew), Arabic, and Amharic. Astrology and medical research on an array of topics geek her out and is something she thoroughly enjoys studying. She regularly writes for Brainz Magazine and is a freelance UX copywriter for various businesses. Black, white, and grey are her go-to colors and the minimalistic life- style brings her so much peace. She is multitalented and when she’s not writing, speaking, coaching clients, or running her many businesses, she is doing some form of interior design, graphic design, honing in on her innate makeup skills, randomly playing violin, singing, doing comedy, and so much more.

https://linktr.ee/avishaiel

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive a $10 Amazon Gift Card courtesy of Rockstar Book Tours, International.

Ends November 30^th, midnight EST.

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the DON’T LOOK, JUST RUN by R.A. Clarke Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Author: R.A. Clarke

Pub. Date: October 30, 2024

Publisher: Page Turn Press

Formats:  Paperback, eBook

Pages: 272

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon

Read for FREE with a Kindle Unlimited Membership!

Consider this book a cautionary tale. The short stories, flash fiction, micro fiction, and poems contained within this collection are the stuff of nightmares—things you should’ve run from when you had the chance.

You’ll read a rhyming tale about a crafty northern witch with a deathly holiday fetish, the journal of a troubled woman who’s been offered revitalization in the form of experimental skin therapy, and two flirty college students who learn exactly why taking strange drugs is bad. Lock your doors and pull your blanket up a little higher while you navigate a feud between neighbours that spirals out of control, operate a camera with a thirst for blood, and even chuckle while a family of vacationing demons let their hungry lil’ guy trick-or-treat, human-style.

If you take away anything from this book, besides a cramp from turning pages too fast or a case of spine tingles that won’t quit—it should be this… Don’t look, just run!

Excerpt:

From the moment I met Terri, I knew it was fate.

She was looking to hire a very particular kind of somebody, and stumbled across my Craigslist ad, which read: The Finisher – A Step Above the Rest. Proof on Film, Every Time. Completion, Discretion & Creativity Guaranteed.

She’d sent me a message and, though I wasn’t sure if I’d accept the job, I agreed to meet her here. Not exactly the nicest part of town, but it made sense, considering.

I smiled and shook her hand. “I’m Winston. Nice to meet you.”

“H-hello, yes, I’m Terri. Same to you, too.” She seemed nervous, her eyes darting around and hands quaking. But, after a few moments, her posture relaxed a little. Probably realized the shabby pub was practically empty—nobody to overhear our conversation.

What a beautiful creature…

I ordered two bourbons, sliding one across the table to further ease her worry. I wanted to assure her I wasn’t some generic thug, but rather an educated and well-mannered man who possessed a unique set of skills for which others paid handsomely. A professional.

Terri sipped her drink and proceeded to explain why she’d called. She wanted someone to scare her cousin, Damien. They lived next door to each other, stuck in a horrible feud that was getting out of control. Terri had apparently cared for Damien’s ailing mother, a woman he sorely neglected. Years later, when the mother finally died, she’d left Damien’s share of the inheritance to Terri instead of her own son. He began tormenting her, poisoning her flowers, leaving hateful notes on her car, and shooting paint balls at her cat.

“He even accused me of stealing!” she said, cheeks flushed. I suspected this accusation wasn’t entirely untrue. Clearly, the pretty thing had stolen his mother’s heart. It wasn’t a shock to me. Of course, the old lady would love Terri. Not only was she lovely, but this Damien guy sounded like a real asshat.

“Anyway, I eventually got fed up and fought back,” she explained, staring at her hands. “I’m not proud of it, but I spray-painted Damien’s precious sports car, poured bleach onto his lawn, and tossed cat poop into his yard.”

Good for her.

“I didn’t know what else to do. None of it worked! He didn’t back off.” She flung her hands out, then reeled them back in with a nervous glance at the bearded bartender.

“Oh, don’t worry about ol’ Bob—he’s heard a lot worse things than that in this bar,” I said with a reassuring smile. I leaned back, waving a hand at her. “Please, continue.”

Terri took a deep breath. “Damien slandered my name all over our neighbourhood, calling me a scheming gold digger who had manipulated his mother. Said I was toxic. He turned most of my extended family against me; made me into a black sheep.”

Terri explained she went to the police, and I shook my head. Calling the police almost never solves these kinds of issues. The way her voice shook, I could tell she was torn up inside.

Poor thing.

“I just need someone to make him believe bad things will happen if he keeps harassing me,” she said with a weak smile. “I think that will make him stop.”

I was unsure about the job. Honestly, it seemed a little beneath me. Sure, it would be easy money, and cultivating fear was definitely in my wheelhouse. But my true specialty was death and disappearance. Money wasn’t everything, after all. This kind of gig offered little opportunity to indulge in the creative expression I enjoyed.

I nearly said no, but then Terri looked up at me with her big, innocent eyes. The delicate curve of her lips buckled my resolve, swaying me. Seducing me. A woman like this needed a white knight—a protector. Knowing I could be that for her, I obliged. 

About R.A. Clarke:

When she’s not writing children’s literature, Rachael Clarke enjoys writing short stories in all kinds of genres, including dark fiction, and horror. So not to confuse or frustrate her younger readership, Rachael publishes her short fiction under the pen name R.A. Clarke.

R.A. Clarke has a dedicated Facebook page for fans of her work.

You’re invited (and very welcome) to join the community!

https://www.facebook.com/raclarkeauthor

Thank you for reading!

Sign up for R.A.’s newsletter! (scroll to the bottom)

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Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive a $10 Amazon Gift Card, International.

Ends December 3rd, midnight EST.

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the WOULD YOU RATHER by Loris Owen Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Author: Loris Owen

Pub. Date: October 25, 2024

Publisher: Quixar Press

Formats:  Paperback, eBook

Pages: 214

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon

Read for FREE with a Kindle Unlimited Membership!

The first two-in-one would you rather and secret code book – double the puzzles means double the fun!

A treasure trove of secret codes in letters, numbers and pictures.
Would-you-rather questions ranging from ick to incredible.
Hilarious picture clues guaranteed to make you giggle.
Difficulty builds gradually from 6 to 42 words.

This two-in-one book helps to improve:

• Observation (reveal the code and spot the gaps)
• Concentration (don’t accidentally mix up your key grid)
• If/then logic (test possible letter matches and adjust to make sense)
• Critical thinking (solve code and make tough decisions)
• Pattern recognition (recognise frequent words in the code)
• Literacy (read, write and spell)
• Debating (tell friends and family why your choice is the right one)
• Drawing and fine motor skills
• Creativity (funny questions mean even funnier answers, especially with the help of the picture clues)…
• All while having loads of fun!

This book will make you think

Figure out the secret code using the instructions and the secret code breaking key. Then prepared to be challenged by one-of-a-kind would you rather questions from children’s and YA author Loris Owen.

This book will make you laugh

Enjoy hours of entertainment with head-scratching codes and imaginative questions, all illustrated with funny and fantastical picture clues.

This book is for all the family

Great for screen breaks, rainy days, weekends, restaurants, road trips and holidays, sleepovers and game nights. Designed for 9- to 13-year-olds but can be enjoyed by everyone. If you’re looking for unique puzzles, this secret code book is for you!

This book will feed your brain

Honey badgers? Wormholes? Monkey puzzle trees? Discover all these and more inside, along with a helpful vocabulary list and factual definitions. Use your critical thinking and guesswork to solve the secret codes, with instructions and extra hints included.

How to solve would you rather secret codes:

Illustrations:

 

 

About Loris Owen:

Loris Owen was born in Bolton and raised in Zimbabwe. She was taught to think sideways at an early age by her dad, and went on to study English at Cambridge. After roaming the world in search of adventure, she settled in the English Midlands, where she can often be found behind mountains of post-it notes or reading to ducks. If she can’t be found, she’s probably disappeared into a particularly good puzzle.

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Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | Amazon

 

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive a $10 Amazon Gift Card, International.

Ends November 19th, midnight EST.

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the THE ELECTRIC GOD AND OTHER SHORTS by Michael Thomas Perone Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Author: Michael Thomas Perone

Pub. Date: October 14, 2024

Publisher: Wheatmark

Formats:  Paperback, eBook

Pages: 251

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, B&N   

A small town becomes obsessed with television—to the point of madness.
A cheerful innocent confronts the harsh reality of the world and is forever changed by the experience.
A struggling author begins receiving strange messages on the paper he uses to write.
A bullied, brilliant teen is put through the wringer of his high school and comes out the other side insane.
A detective of the future discovers he may be investigating his own untimely demise—and that of the world’s.

These and one more dark fable await you from the imaginative mind of the award-winning author Michael Thomas Perone. Part fractured fairy tales, part nightmare fuel, The Electric God and Other Shorts follows characters who struggle to remain sane in an insane world and features stories that will keep you up at night, wondering what might be lurking in the shadows.

Excerpt from The Electric God and Other Shorts

The drops of blood plopping onto Bill’s steering wheel were so large, they made a sound upon impact. Bill tried fruitlessly to divert his mind from the searing agony that heightened with each pump of his heart. Picturing his destination, Park City Memorial Hospital, he ignored the pain that wrestled for his attention as more blood leaked from his broken body. At once, Bill felt a booming crash directly behind him, and his car popped a wheelie, the front two wheels spinning in the air. When they met the street again with a resounding screech, Bill’s fears were confirmed after he looked over his ailing shoulder. A Model-Z purposefully rammed his bumper, and another muscle car was close behind. 

“What is this, the karma police?” Bill asked himself. Two shots, one from each speeding car, alerted Bill of their intentions, and he shot back through the open driver’s side window, his ammo filling the sky but not striking any targets. An enemy bullet ricocheted off his trunk with a cartoonish Ping! sound, and another connected with one of Bill’s back tires. He continued driving, considering the flat a triumph since they were short one more bullet and it didn’t kill him. Another round burst his rear window in a spectacular splash of glass. Now Bill was a sitting duck. To avoid the incoming shots, he swerved erratically across the road, with bullets whistling by and one almost grazing his ear. 

“How many freakin’ guns do they have?” Bill asked. He checked his own supply: his barrel was empty. “This just keeps getting better,” he muttered between gritted teeth. Resorting to Plan B, Bill slammed his brakes as the twin pursuing cars rushed past, one on each side. He then pulled a sharp left against traffic, the oncoming cars blasting their horns and veering out of the way. Bill was forced to take the longer, scenic route to the hospital. When he finally arrived, he hid his car behind a nearby stationery and stumbled into the emergency ward, half unconscious.

About Michael Thomas Perone:

 Michael Thomas Perone is an award-winning author who has written for The Baltimore Sun, Baltimore City Paper, Long Island Voice (a spinoff of The Village Voice), and The Island Ear (now titled Long Island Press), among others. Online, he has written for Yahoo!, WhatCulture!, and other websites that don’t end with an exclamation mark. His debut novel, the action-adventure Danger Peak, was the recipient of multiple awards, including The Fall 2022 BookFest Award in the category of Young Adult – Action and Adventure. His follow-up, the coming-of-age/sci-fi mindbender Déjà View, won First Place at the Spring 2024 BookFest Awards in the category of Young Adult – Literary and Coming of Age. It was also a finalist of The Eric Hoffer Book Award. He currently works as a Senior Editor and lives on Long Island with his wife and two daughters.

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Giveaway Details:

10 winners will receive a finished copy of THE ELECTRIC GOD AND OTHER SHORTS, US Only.

Ends November 19th, midnight EST.

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the CONQUIST by Dirk Strasser Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Author: Dirk Strasser

Pub. Date: September 1, 2024

Publisher: Roundfire Books

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 360

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/Conquist

Get 50% off the Conquist e-book here by following the steps below:

https://www.collectiveinkbooks.com/…/our…/conquist-novel

– Click the above link

– Click ‘Add to basket for direct download.’

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– Click on ‘Do you have a coupon?’

– Apply promo code Spooky50

and Validate.

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HURRY! THE OFFER ENDS ON OCTOBER 31st, 2024! 

Capitán Cristóbal de Varga’s drive for glory and gold in 1538 Peru leads him and his army of conquistadors into a New World that refuses to be conquered. He is a man torn by life-long obsessions and knows this is his last campaign. What he doesn’t know is that his Incan allies led by the princess Sarpay have their own furtive plans to make sure he never finds the golden city of Vilcabamba. He also doesn’t know that Héctor Valiente, the freed African slave he appointed as his lieutenant, has found a portal that will lead them all into a world that will challenge his deepest beliefs. And what he can’t possibly know is that this world will trap him in a war between two eternal enemies, leading him to question everything he has devoted his life to – his command, his Incan princess, his honor, his God. In the end, he faces the ultimate dilemma: how is it possible to battle your own obsessions . . . to conquer yourself?

Reviews:

Finalist Aurealis Award Best Fantasy Novel

“An original and riveting read from start to finish, An action/adventure fantasy novel raised to an impressive level of literary excellence by the storytelling talents of Dirk Strasser as a novelist, Conquist is an extraordinary and unreservedly recommended pick.” —Midwest Book Review

“Conquist is the perfect fever dream of conquistadors, magic, and portals, alongside conflict, drama, and gold-mad lunatics.” —SFF Insiders

“Strasser tells a riveting odyssey of conquest, magic, and redemption that fans of historical fantasy will devour.” —Aurealis

“The combination of history and fantasy, along with the rich, thought-provoking, character development, made Conquist a memorable experience. Conquist is well worth the read.” —Literaria Luminaria

Excerpt:

Chapter 1 
​El diario de Cristóbal de Varga

We conquistadors suffer from a disease whose symptom is an insatiable thirst for gold. Unlike other fevers, ours cause those innocent of infection to die. I know this, yet I still write these words in the fervent hope that my name will echo with Francisco Pizarro and Hernán Cortés.

On the eve of All Souls in the year of Our Lord 1538, I, Cristóbal de Varga, humble servant of His Imperial Majesty Charles V, King of Spain and Holy Roman Emperor, led my six hundred conquistadors through an entrada into a new world.
​
But that is not when my tale truly began. Was it when I first felt the bright ache for the riches of New Spain as I stood on the banks of Seville’s Guadalquivir River and saw the square-rigged galleon sails swell in the gusting wind? Or was it the day my family lost the last of its noble pretenses and was overcome by grinding poverty with the death of my father? Or perhaps it began when I gained my commission from His Majesty King Charles V. No, I know when my tale took flight. It began when I first tasted the acrid sweetness of conquest, the day I fully experienced the florid symptoms of the conquistador’s disease. It was the day many innocents perished in the grip of our contagion. The day we sacked Machu Picchu.

About Dirk Strasser:

Dirk Strasser’s fantasy trilogy The Books of Ascension (Zenith, Equinox and Eclipse) was published in German (Heyne Verlag) and English (Pan Macmillan), and his short stories have been translated into several European languages. ‘The Doppelgänger Effect’ appeared in the World Fantasy Award-winning anthology, Dreaming Down Under (Tor). Dirk was born in Germany but has lived most of his life in Australia. He works in educational publishing, has trekked the Inca trail to Machu Picchu, and studied Renaissance history.

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Giveaway Details:

2 winners will receive a finished copy of CONQUIST, US Only.

Ends November 19^th, midnight EST.

Is histasy the next big thing in fantasy?

Dirk Strasser

During the Glasgow Science Fiction Worldcon I attended a historical fantasy panel. I was particularly interested in this subgenre because my own historical fantasy Conquist was due for publication a few weeks later. I also attended a panel on the mashing up of genres. Almost all the discussion at the mash-up panel was about the momentum of romantic fantasy, and one of the reasons suggested for its growing success was because of the catchy name for the subgenre: romantasy.

It struck me that for historical fantasy to have its moment in the sun, it needed its own name, and to me the obvious name was histasy. So, what is the current state of histasy? Is it selling? Is it winning awards? Publishers and booksellers love comparisons (if you like Book A, you’ll like Book B), so as part of my marketing research for Conquist, I looked into the histasy phenomenon and came up with a few surprises, the bigone being that histasy seems to be on the rise.

When I was writing Conquist I certainly wasn’t trying to anticipate a trend. I just wrote the sort of fantasy that I would like to read. However, I’m happy to catch a wave if there’s one on the way. Let’s start with the massive Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon, spanning 18th century Scotland, France and America, nine books and counting with some candidates for the longest fantasy novels ever written, plus a long-running Netflix series. Yes, Outlander is technically ahistorical romance fantasy or histromantasy, but let’s not drill down into subsubgenres.

Then there’s the New York Times best-selling author R F Kuang’s Babel which won the Nebula Award, the Locus Award, the British Book Award, Blackwell’s Book of the Year for Fiction, and would have had a good chance of winning the Hugo Award if it hadn’t been disqualified by Chinese state censorship. It’s set in an alternative-reality 1830s Englandwhere Britain’s supremacy is driven by the use of magical silver bars that derive their power from words in different languages that have similar—but not identical—meaning.

V E Schwab’s The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue follows a young French woman in 1714 who makes a Faustian bargain for immortality which curses her to be forgotten by everyone she meets. It was on the New York Times Best Seller list for 37 consecutive weeks and is scheduled for a film adaptation.

While most histasies until now have tended to focus on British and Western European history from the Middle Ages up to the nineteenth century, there is wealth of unexplored eras and geographic areas open to discovery by the subgenre. My own novel Conquist is set in 1538 Peru at the time of the Spanish conquest of the Inca Empire, where an army of conquistadors enter a portal and invade a new (fantasy) world in the search for gold and glory with a mission to convert the beings they find there to Christianity.

The only histasy I’m aware of set in the same time period as Conquist with Spanish main characters is the recently published The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo, who is best known for her YA fantasy Shadow and Bone books, which were made into a stunning Netflix series. The Familiar, is set against the backdrop of the Spanish Inquisition, and like The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, has a diabolical Faustian bargain at its heart.

Since Inca characters also feature in Conquist, I’ll mention Civilizations by French writer Laurent Binet, another histasythat I’ve read recently, which asks the question: What if the Inca conquered Europe? The novel won the Grand Prix du roman de l’Académie française and the English translation was awarded the Sidewise Award for Alternate History.