Book Blitz of Poseidon's Daughters Reckoning by Reign Reeves Pearson (#Contests- Enter to Win An Amazon Gift Card)

Poseidon’s Daughters: Reckoning

By
Reign Reeves Pearson

 (Poseidon’s Daughters, #1)

Publication date: March 21st 2025
Genres: Adult, Science Fiction, Thriller

They trained her to be a weapon. Now, she’s turning the blade on them.Eirianwen was Poseidon’s crowning achievement—until she walked away from everything. She’s evaded them for years, carving out a life in the shadows, leaving behind the bloodstained world they forced her into. Now, the past she’s been running from has finally caught up. A storm-wracked night. A breach in her sanctuary. Someone is watching. Someone is waiting. And this time, they don’t just want her dead—they want her to doubt herself. They want the world to believe she’s lost her mind.

They’ve been watching her. Manipulating her. Preparing for her downfall.

Now, the elite organization that built her is coming to collect. Not to kill—to control. They don’t need to break her. They just need to make sure no one believes her when she starts screaming.They want her to understand that her escape, her freedom, was all an illusion.

Erased. Discredited. Untouchable.

But Eirianwen has spent her whole life surviving. And when the walls start closing in, she doesn’t run. She hunts.

Poseidon wants her desperate. Unraveling. Helpless.

They’re about to learn just how dangerous she can be.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

Eirianwen ripped out the earpiece and slammed it onto the desk. Panic swirled at the edges of her mind, but she forced it down. Now wasn’t the time. She grabbed a larger bag from under the desk, slung it over her shoulder, and stormed out. In the closet, she set the bag aside, pressing a hidden panel on the side of her bed. A drawer slid open, revealing her arsenal. Her hands shook as she armed herself, snapping a knife into its sheath and loading a handgun with quick, practiced movements. Now, to find them. Moving swiftly, she ran through the house, slipping out the back door and straight into the storm-charged air. Sullivan’s workshop. If she was going to do this right, she’d need a shovel. She yanked open the heavy wooden door, eyes darting over the mess inside.Where the fuck is it? Why is this place always such a goddamn disaster?

A glint of metal under the workbench caught her eye. She crouched, snatched up a spade, and bolted back outside. The rain had started in earnest, cold drops slicing through the thick humidity. She sprinted to where the trackers last pinged, her boots sinking slightly into the softening earth, almost tripping thanks to a low spot. Looking back at the spot, it was all wrong. She knew something was buried there.

Gripping the shovel tightly, she drove it into the ground. The soil gave easily…far too easily. The clay should have been a nightmare to dig through. Someone had already done the work for her. Within moments, her blade hit something solid, and dread curled in her stomach. She dropped to her knees, clawing at the loose earth with bare hands until the objects were free. Her breath hitched. Six trackers. All of them. Cold, useless, and buried like a mockery of her own paranoia. Eirianwen sat back on her heels, mud caking her fingers as she stared at the pile in her hands. Someone knew.

Her cheeks burned hot, but the rest of her body felt frozen. Tears welled, spilling silently down her face as the questions flooded in. Why? Why would Sullivan do this? Had he done this? He wouldn’t put the kids in danger—would he? Where were they? How long had he planned this? Her stomach twisted. Then, her phone buzzed—a single notification. Hands trembling, she wiped her palms on her pants and yanked it from her pocket. Wi-Fi restored—a new alert. Someone had just crossed the perimeter.

“It better be Sullivan and the kids.”

Eirianwen exhaled sharply, swiping at the sweat and tears streaking her face. Standing, she brushed the dirt from her clothes as best she could, shoving the useless trackers deep into her pocket. She locked her phone and steadied herself. If the kids were with Sullivan, she needed to stay calm. Normal. They couldn’t see the weapons strapped under her clothing. At least the incoming storm gave her an excuse to rush them inside. She’d get them safe first—then she’d deal with Sullivan. She turned toward the tree line, heart pounding in her throat. The property was massive, and she had built the house at its farthest edge. Finally, headlights cut through the gloom. A vehicle emerged. Not Sullivan’s truck. A cold, electric jolt shot down her spine. Every instinct screamed at her.

No one came out here. No one. She had made sure of it. For years, she had meticulously crafted the illusion of a perfectly ordinary life. She knew everyone in town—just enough to avoid suspicion, but never enough to invite curiosity. A delicate balance of friendly but distant. She never gave anyone a reason to visit. She didn’t even use their real address! She picked up all of their mail and deliveries in town. So who the hell thought they had the right to pull up to her house? The SUV slowed to a stop, tires crunching against the gravel. The doors swung open in near unison, and two men stepped out. Sheriff Ford. Deputy Pines. Ford adjusted his jacket, his gaze steady, unreadable. Pines lingered a step behind, eyes sharp, scanning. Ford closed the gap between them and gave Eirianwen a curt nod.

Author Bio:

Reign Reeves Pearson is a writer, storyteller, and chaos enthusiast based in Houston, where she lives with her husband, four kids, and three cats who may or may not be plotting world domination. She thrives on Kopiko, rainy days, and an endless love for Final Fantasy VII and Dungeons & Dragons.

She’s been writing for as long as she can remember. But in 2019, a health scare forced her to take a hard look at her life, and the answer was clear: writing wasn’t just something she did. It was what she was meant to do.

Her debut novel and series, Poseidon’s Daughters: Reckoning, is her first and only planned adventure into sci-fi. Going forward, expect Southern Gothic chills, cosmic nightmares, and nostalgic ‘90s horror—all infused with her signature mix of heart, humor, and a touch of the macabre.

When she’s not writing, she’s probably dreaming up elaborate D&D campaigns, getting emotionally wrecked by Final Fantasy VII (again), or staring dramatically out a window while it rains.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram

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Showcase of Murder on the Steel Pier by Rosie Genova (#contests- Enter to win some great gifts 4-winners)

MURDER ON THE STEEL PIER

by Rosie Genova

April 1, 2025 Book Blast

Synopsis:

THE TESS MANCINI TIME TRAVEL MYSTERY SERIES

 

Greetings from the Nifty Fifties…

The morning after a blowout birthday celebration in Atlantic City, crime reporter and party girl Tess Mancini wakes up in an unfamiliar place—1955. Bread is eighteen cents a loaf, Ike occupies the White House, and the Boardwalk is crawling with vintage cars and vintage wise guys. A bewildered Tess is sure of only two things: One, she’s not crazy, and two, the clothes are fabulous. Somehow, she’s living the life of her Great-Aunt Theresa, who disappeared decades before Tess’s birth.

In her 1950s existence, Tess is a reporter at the local newspaper, living at a boarding house owned by her Zia Antonetta, an Italian immigrant with a big secret. It turns out Theresa has a kid brother, teenaged troublemaker Val Mancini—aka Tess’s paternal grandfather. Though determined to return to her own time, Tess’s curiosity takes over. What happened to the first Theresa Mancini? And is Tess’s trip through time connected to her aunt’s fate?

But when young Val is accused of murdering a boarding house guest, a Nazi in hiding, Tess ends up with two investigations on her hands—and now stuck in time until she can prove Val’s innocence. As she searches for answers, she finds allies in a dishy police detective and a suspiciously charming fellow reporter. The clock is ticking for Tess to find a way home, but first, she has to keep her grandfather off Death Row.

Because before Tess can get back to the future … she needs to make sure she has one.

Praise for Murder on the Steel Pier:

"Murder on the Steel Pier is impossible to put down, offering an irresistible blend of mystery, history, and time travel. I felt like I was in 1950s Atlantic City along with heroine Tess. Unlike her, I didn’t want to leave! I absolutely loved this book and can’t wait for Tess’s next adventure."
~ Ellen Byron, Agatha Award-Winning Author

"Awesome book! This stylish, creatively written and highly entertaining mystery will keep you turning pages long past bedtime."
~ Terrie Farley Moran, award-winning author of the Murder, She Wrote series

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Two Roses Books
Publication Date: March 31, 2025
Number of Pages: 340
ISBN: 979-8-9911241-1-9
Series: The Tess Mancini Time Travel Mysteries, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | AppleBooks | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

From Chapter 1

Someone was smoking a cigarette. I sniffed, and spikes of pain started at my chin and shot through the top of my head. Oh God, make it stop, and I promise I’ll never touch another drop of tequila. Being another year older was bad enough—did I have to be punished for it, too? My nose twitched as the smoke teased my nostrils and caressed my olfactory nerves. I’d quit a month ago, but the longing for a cig came roaring back.

With my eyes still closed, and my head nailed to the pillow, I had one coherent thought: This is supposed to be a smoke-free hotel. As far as I knew, it was also bird-free, but the chirps and twitters assailing my ears were clearly coming from feathered creatures. Then again, it’s Atlantic City. Maybe the birds were part of the hotel show. Ever so slowly, I slid my hands from under the covers and cupped them over my ears.

“Please, birdies,” I whispered. “Stop singing.” Geez, they sounded close enough to be in my room. I exhaled, yoga style. C’mon, Tess, time to open your eyes. You can do it. Actually, I couldn’t, as my lashes were glued together. (Had I slept in my make-up? Not a good sign.) Still covering my ears against the piercing bird song, I fluttered my left eyelid and squinted.

Big, fuchsia-colored roses seemed to scream at me from the wall. And sun—blinding, eyeball-searing sun—streamed in through an uncovered window. And not a hotel window bolted shut and draped to keep out that awful light, but a wooden one with glass panes. And across the top, a ruffly white curtain.

Okay, not my hotel. So where was I? My empty stomach grew queasy; I wouldn’t have gone home with a stranger. Though I did remember a cute blond guy playing the slots next to me, but it was all so … blurry. I eased open the other eye. Across the room was a vanity table draped in more white ruffles. Somehow, I doubted the blond guy lived here.

This place was obviously some kind of historic inn or something, but that still didn’t explain how I’d gotten here. I looked down at the sheets, also decorated with roses. Only these were little yellow ones. Somebody sure liked her florals.

“So weird,” I muttered. Hands shaking, eyes half closed, I felt around for my phone, but my fingers landed on a string of beads. I let go of the necklace and blinked hard, trying to ignore the little flashes of pain behind my eyes. Next to me was an old-fashioned nightstand; on it was a lamp with a frilly pink shade, an analog alarm clock ticking loudly, and the “necklace,” which had a cross hanging from it. A face stared at me from a black-and-white photo. I shifted closer, peering at a guy with slicked-back hair, thick brows, and dark-lashed eyes. Across the bottom of the picture was a name, signed in blue ink. I frowned at the image. Who the heck was Tyrone Power? Was he someone’s boyfriend? Or part of the décor?

Hangover and rubber legs be damned, I had to get moving and find my phone. But before I could get a big toe out from under the covers, a knock sounded at the door. I sat up in the strange bed, holding my throbbing head as though it were a soft-boiled egg.

“Tess? Are you awake yet?” The voice on the other side of the door had a slight Irish brogue. “Can I come in, then?”

“Yes,” I croaked. Whoever she was, she knew my name. Despite the sunlight, the room was chilly, and I huddled under the cotton blankets as the woman bustled in holding a small tray. I sniffed coffee and toast, and when she set it down on the nightstand, my stomach gurgled audibly.

“Now,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron, “we served breakfast some time ago, and when you didn’t come down, I knew you’d be oversleepin’ again. Your auntie will have my hide and your own if you don’t get down to that kitchen.” She crossed her ample arms and sent me a stern look. “You know we don’t serve anyone in their rooms, guests or otherwise, but Carolina insisted I bring you your coffee. Said you’re no good without it.”

I looked up at a broad-shouldered woman in a green housedress. Over that was an apron in a loud, orange-and-green pattern of forks and spoons. Her thick white hair, twisted into a bun, was bright against her weathered skin. Her small dark eyes gave the impression of two raisins set in a gingerbread face. I’d never seen her before in my life.

“Sorry, Mrs. Flaherty.” How did I know that? It surely must have been her name because she didn’t correct me. I sat up quickly, my mouth hanging open in shock, and the blankets slipped to my waist.

Mrs. Flaherty took a step closer to the bed and narrowed her eyes at me. “Just what are you wearing, missy?” What was I wearing? I glanced down at the cursive “T” stitched on the pocket of my favorite monogrammed PJs. Expensive ones. And why did she care? I opened my mouth to answer, but Mrs. F got there ahead of me. “They’re silk,” she hissed. “And black, for the Lord’s sake.”

“Uh huh,” I said slowly, wondering if she commented on the nightwear of all her guests. Still, I pulled the blankets up to my chin.

“Best not let your auntie see them. Don’t know how in the world you afford such things,” she grumbled. “Eat up quick now, and bring down that tray when you’re through.”

“Okay,” I whispered, staring at the door she closed behind her…

***

Excerpt from Murder on the Steel Pier by Rosie Genova. Copyright 2025 by Rosie Genova. Reproduced with permission from Rosie Genova. All rights reserved.

 

Author Bio:

Proud Jersey girl Rosie Genova is a multi-genre author. Her work includes a Jersey shore cozy series, The Italian Kitchen Mysteries, and The Tess Mancini Time Travel Mysteries, set in 1955 Atlantic City. She is also the author of standalone suspense and a couple of rom-coms that presently live in her computer files (but are longing to be released into the wild). A former teacher and journalist, Rosie’s non-fiction has appeared in a variety of publications, including Entrepreneur magazine and The New York Times. The mother of three sons, Rosie still lives in her favorite state with her husband, too many dusty antiques, and a charming mutt named Lucy.

Catch Up With Rosie Genova:

www.RosieGenova.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @RosieGenova
Facebook - @RosieGenova

 

 

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Book Blitz of Lush By Tinia Montford (#Contests- Enter to win An ECOPY of the Book)

lush
Tinia Montford
Publication date: March 31st 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense

Laurene King had it all: beauty, wealth, and a sexy secret affair with Reese Ashbourne— the brooding heir of her family’s sworn enemy.
But one reckless night shattered everything.

Tragedy struck. Laurene disappeared. And Reese was left with betrayal, unanswered questions, and scars he’ll never forget.

Now, Laurene is back, forced to return to the life she fled, but her homecoming comes with a cruel twist. Their families, teetering on the edge of ruin, have resurrected an old deal to save themselves: an Ashbourne and a King must marry—or lose everything.

Only this time, Reese is the groom. Not his brother.

Haunted by the past, Reese craves revenge as much as he still craves her. Trapped in a forced proximity neither can escape, their chemistry ignites—and so do their secrets.

But someone knows the truth about that night. The lies that tore them apart are unraveling, and the shadowy danger lurking in their luxurious world could destroy them both.

With their second chance at love and their families ’legacies hanging by a thread, Laurene and Reese must choose: bury the past or watch everything crumble to ashes.

The clock is ticking, and some truths are better left buried…

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

An Hour before the Accident

The laughter spilled from the main hall of the yacht club, bright and careless, tangled with the relentless thump of music. I should’ve been out there, smiling, toasting, pretending.

Instead, I’d been hiding in this bathroom for nearly twenty minutes, like it could stop the slow, sinking dread pooling in my chest.

Smile, Laurene! Smile!

Conrad’s great.

Really? my conscience said. He was great. Great for the family, great for appearances, great for everything except me.

The door opened and shut softly behind me.

“It’s over.”

I refused to look behind me. I couldn’t. If I did, I’d crack.

Instead, I focused on putting on my lipstick, the motion mechanical. I looked immaculate—perfect—the kind of woman my mother would smile at with pride. But I hated the color.

This fucking burgundy.

The same shade she shoved at me for every happy occasion, every moment she wanted to control. A color that screamed her. Everything she expected me to be. Everything I despised.

I met his gaze in the bathroom mirror.

He loomed there, his suit rumpled and tie slightly askew, his dark hair rebelliously unkempt. He looked the exact opposite of his brother—wild, unapologetic, dangerous. Everything I wasn’t supposed to want.

“Don’t look away.” Every word wrapped around me like a challenge, and that rebellious part of me strained beneath my skin. But he wasn’t asking. He was demanding.

And I obeyed.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

I wanted him here. I needed him. But I couldn’t have him.

“I could say the same to you.” In the dim light, his green eyes seemed almost black. “Shouldn’t you be outside? Smiling for the cameras? Pretending you don’t hate every second of this?”

“This”—I pointed between us—“ends now. Get out before somebody sees you.”

His eyes held mine, and the way he saw me, like he was stripping away every layer, every excuse, was almost too much.

I turned. “This isn’t a game, Reese. My mama would burn the entire town to the ground if she knew about us.”

“She doesn’t know.” He stepped closer. “I was careful. No one saw me. We still have the plan.”

“Please.” I had to get through this night without more tears. “Let’s…let’s just cut our losses. I—I don’t know if I can do it now.”

He was behind me before I knew it, his weight trapping me against the counter. I closed my eyes, my breath catching as his exhale grazed the sensitive skin of my neck, hot and tantalizing.

“Can we think of something else?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “She always knows, Reese. You don’t understand—”

“What I understand,” he said, his voice sharp, “is that you’re miserable. You’re about to marry my brother, and you’re standing here trying to convince yourself it’s what you want. Believe in our plan or is that what you want, Laurene?”

Author Bio:

Tinia (TUH-NIA) Montford is a Pisces who’s a sap for romance, especially when there’s (tons of) kissing. Loves eighties sitcoms and will consume anything with chocolate. She graduated from the University of San Francisco with a degree in English and Graphic Design. She is currently pursuing her MFA in Fiction.

You can find Tinia at www.tiniamontford.com or on social media: @tiniawritesbooks

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / TikTok / Instagram / Amazon

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Book Blitz of Rare by Patrick De Moss (#contests- Enter to Win An Amazon Gift Card)

Rare
Patrick de Moss
Publication date: March 1st 2025
Genres: Adult, Fantasy

Some songs aren’t meant to exist.

When sixteen-year-old Emma receives a mysterious Beatles record—a cover of The Girl Can’t Help It, a song they never recorded, her life changes in ways she never imagined. Grieving her grandmother’s death and lost in the heavy fog of depression, Emma doesn’t expect much from the strange package. But the moment the needle drops, magic ripples through the world.

Angels shiver. Dragons stir in their hoards. Vampires feel an ancient hunger awaken. The song calls to them all, and it calls to Emma too. For the first time since her grandmother’s death, Emma feels something spark inside her: hope. But magic has a price, and the Dark has heard the song as well.

To protect the record, Emma must venture into the Hidden States of America—a surreal, shadowed version of the country where myth and reality blur. It’s a country shaped by the stories we tell and the secrets we keep, where ordinary towns hide extraordinary truths.

As Emma struggles to carry the song to where it belongs, she’ll have to confront her grief, face her deepest fears, and discover if she has the strength to resist the pull of the Dark.

From Patrick de Moss, the acclaimed author of Kings of Nowhere, comes a darkly magical tale of loss, courage, and the power of music to heal even the deepest wounds. This is a story that explores the fragile beauty of hope and the strength it takes to face the shadows.

Rare is a spellbinding modern fable. Every note of the song of this story echoes with both wonder and danger. Some songs can change the world. Some songs can change you.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT

Far, far away to the east, in New York City, where magic and power and rumor swirled in their own urban galaxy, a very ancient and powerful creature lived in the highest tower money could buy. While many of his kind lived and worked in the greater New York area, coiled around the rise and fall of stocks and bonds in an endless dance of power and wealth, he was by far the oldest in that den of snakes. He was old enough that his thick fingers still dreamed of worn gold coins and his body of piles of treasure beneath his scales. Now, of course, he slept only on damask of the finest quality, spread over a memory foam mattress—nowhere near as comfortable as cold hard cash.

That night, he was window shopping, his hungry eye roving over page after page of the most exotic goods Sotheby’s online could offer.

If one lived long enough, even the most exquisite meals tasted like ashes on the tongue; breathe often enough, and even bottled air from Everest smelled stale and flat. He could hardly be bothered to hide his own nature when he was alone—the secret theater of the Council and its Compact had been a bit of a thrill for a while, but Mr. Drake—just Drake to his friends—was getting bored.

He yawned, and his long, forked tongue spilled out, unfurling and flicking against his human nose. No one was around to see it, so he wasn’t breaking the Law, and besides, he missed all the parts of his true shape quite badly. Missed a herd of sheep’s eyes rolling in terror. Probably lamb again tonight, from that place on the other side of Broadway.

Mr. Drake’s lair took up the entire upper floor of his tall tower in the center of the city, wide rooms filled with the carcasses of kingdoms burned to the ground beneath his fearsome will. Company logos on banners from decades past, those battle standards of board members who had crumbled and fallen to their knees in merger upon acquisition upon merger. Darwin had certainly been on the money about the adaptation of species. In the face of adversity, Drake and the rest of his kind had thrived, but—

But he wanted to spread his wings high above his head, soar over the crescent moon, sweep down on farmland and gout flame from his throat; the glorious crescendo of a sun going supernova. Instead, he stoked another cigar, the smoke curling from his nose a pacifying reminder of who he had to be now.

His cellphone lit up, vibrating on the long cocobolo desk. Drake looked down at it with a grimace and tapped the screen with one stubby finger.

“Drake,” he said. “How do you have this number?”

“I have my ways, Old One.”

He was in the middle of pouring himself another whiskey, ready to tear this joker a new set of holes, when he recognized the voice and sighed.

“Old One, is it? When was your sweet sixteen, Morgan?”

“Oh well, you know me,” The Hollow Woman sounded far too cheery for his tastes. “Evergreen.”

Drake snorted.

“Isn’t it still daylight on your side of the world? Why don’t you go out and catch some rays, you old hag? Go get a tan. Would be good for the both of us.”

“Have it your way,” Morgan said sweetly. “Don’t trouble yourself with little old me, then.”

“I won’t,” he snarled, and hung up. Smoke was starting to waft down from the high ceilings, having pooled there in those short minutes on the phone. The AC here was top notch, of course, the best AC in the city, but nothing manmade could keep up with his kind’s distemper. He flipped through a few more pages on Sotheby’s, but quickly, rapidly stabbing his finger on the mouse. He tried to hum something to himself, and his phone buzzed again.

“All right. This is getting old pretty fast,” he said. “Spit it out already and go away. What do you want?”

“Want? Oh, darling Drake, not a thing. Not a single thing.”

He laughed, a deep rumble like an earthquake, the magma pushing up beneath the surface.

“Wanting is what you’re for, Morgan. Maybe you forgot?”

“Well, now. Maybe you’re not interested.” She was almost purring. Purring! “I’m sure one of your brothers will be.” And she hung up on him.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit, he thought. The haze of smoke had curled down just above the surface of his cocobolo desk. If he wasn’t careful, he would trigger the alarms on the floor below again. He took a breath. He took another. I am a calm blue ocean, he thought to himself. I can be one with my feelings.

Author Bio:

Playwright, poet, prose writer, as well as former gravedigger, hotline psychic, line cook, chef, waiter and a few other things in between, Patrick de Moss lives and works in St. John's, Newfoundland.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter

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Book Blitz of Touch Of The Elegrian by Cheryl A. Arko (#contests- Enter to win An Amazon Gift Card)

Touch of the Elegrian
Cheryl A. Arko
Publication date: March 25th 2025
Genres: Adult, Science Fiction

Prejudice. Legacy. Redemption.

Erys carries a secret that could shatter his world. The telepathic Elegrian has spent his life atoning for his dead father’s role in humanity’s disastrous first contact. Now, as a tech specialist for the Earth-led alliance, he serves in silence—until sabotage threatens the lives of dozens of human children. And the traitor is one of his own.

Forced to work with a brilliant but hostile human engineer, Erys must dismantle not only the deadly conspiracy but also the deep-seated mistrust between their peoples. With time running out, he faces an impossible choice: break the fragile Elegrian-Human treaty and invite the death penalty to forge a forbidden mind link with a human… or let innocent lives be lost.

Two worlds on the brink. A single act of defiance. Can compassion rewrite a doomed future?

The Elegrian Legacy begins here—a gripping sci-fi adventure rich in high-stakes dilemmas, deep character bonds, and first-contact intrigue.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT

Far, far away to the east, in New York City, where magic and power and rumor swirled in their own urban galaxy, a very ancient and powerful creature lived in the highest tower money could buy. While many of his kind lived and worked in the greater New York area, coiled around the rise and fall of stocks and bonds in an endless dance of power and wealth, he was by far the oldest in that den of snakes. He was old enough that his thick fingers still dreamed of worn gold coins and his body of piles of treasure beneath his scales. Now, of course, he slept only on damask of the finest quality, spread over a memory foam mattress—nowhere near as comfortable as cold hard cash.

That night, he was window shopping, his hungry eye roving over page after page of the most exotic goods Sotheby’s online could offer.

If one lived long enough, even the most exquisite meals tasted like ashes on the tongue; breathe often enough, and even bottled air from Everest smelled stale and flat. He could hardly be bothered to hide his own nature when he was alone—the secret theater of the Council and its Compact had been a bit of a thrill for a while, but Mr. Drake—just Drake to his friends—was getting bored.

He yawned, and his long, forked tongue spilled out, unfurling and flicking against his human nose. No one was around to see it, so he wasn’t breaking the Law, and besides, he missed all the parts of his true shape quite badly. Missed a herd of sheep’s eyes rolling in terror. Probably lamb again tonight, from that place on the other side of Broadway.

Mr. Drake’s lair took up the entire upper floor of his tall tower in the center of the city, wide rooms filled with the carcasses of kingdoms burned to the ground beneath his fearsome will. Company logos on banners from decades past, those battle standards of board members who had crumbled and fallen to their knees in merger upon acquisition upon merger. Darwin had certainly been on the money about the adaptation of species. In the face of adversity, Drake and the rest of his kind had thrived, but—

But he wanted to spread his wings high above his head, soar over the crescent moon, sweep down on farmland and gout flame from his throat; the glorious crescendo of a sun going supernova. Instead, he stoked another cigar, the smoke curling from his nose a pacifying reminder of who he had to be now.

His cellphone lit up, vibrating on the long cocobolo desk. Drake looked down at it with a grimace and tapped the screen with one stubby finger.

“Drake,” he said. “How do you have this number?”

“I have my ways, Old One.”

He was in the middle of pouring himself another whiskey, ready to tear this joker a new set of holes, when he recognized the voice and sighed.

“Old One, is it? When was your sweet sixteen, Morgan?”

“Oh well, you know me,” The Hollow Woman sounded far too cheery for his tastes. “Evergreen.”

Drake snorted.

“Isn’t it still daylight on your side of the world? Why don’t you go out and catch some rays, you old hag? Go get a tan. Would be good for the both of us.”

“Have it your way,” Morgan said sweetly. “Don’t trouble yourself with little old me, then.”

“I won’t,” he snarled, and hung up. Smoke was starting to waft down from the high ceilings, having pooled there in those short minutes on the phone. The AC here was top notch, of course, the best AC in the city, but nothing manmade could keep up with his kind’s distemper. He flipped through a few more pages on Sotheby’s, but quickly, rapidly stabbing his finger on the mouse. He tried to hum something to himself, and his phone buzzed again.

“All right. This is getting old pretty fast,” he said. “Spit it out already and go away. What do you want?”

“Want? Oh, darling Drake, not a thing. Not a single thing.”

He laughed, a deep rumble like an earthquake, the magma pushing up beneath the surface.

“Wanting is what you’re for, Morgan. Maybe you forgot?”

“Well, now. Maybe you’re not interested.” She was almost purring. Purring! “I’m sure one of your brothers will be.” And she hung up on him.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit, he thought. The haze of smoke had curled down just above the surface of his cocobolo desk. If he wasn’t careful, he would trigger the alarms on the floor below again. He took a breath. He took another. I am a calm blue ocean, he thought to himself. I can be one with my feelings.

Author Bio:

CHERYL ARKO is a science fiction author and an accomplished senior data scientist with a long career in IT and medical data analysis. She has loved reading science fiction ever since she could connect letters into words, devouring everything from Andre Norton to E.E. "Doc" Smith to more and more authors through the years who have shared their thought-provoking ideas of imagined places and alternate realities.

TOUCH OF THE ELEGRIAN is Cheryl's debut novel and was a Killer Nashville Claymore Award Finalist for best Science Fiction/Fantasy. She writes stories that take her to the stars, imagining who we might find out there, inviting readers to come along for the ride to visit new worlds and their people. To explore what makes us different—and what makes us the same. And to discover the inherent good that exists in the universe to balance against darkness, no matter how far we travel.

A seasoned dog trainer, Cheryl lives with her beloved Airedales in a tiny house nestled within thirty acres of serene Minnesota pine trees.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

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Book Spotlight of Riftsiders by Paul A. Destefano (#paranormal Romance)

 

A team of possessed friends cope with the difficulties of being different while navigating relationships and getting attacked by demons…

 

The lead couple meet each other at a support group for the possessed. They get tangled in all sorts of affairs, normal and otherworldly, facing threats from humanity, demons, monsters, bounty hunters and bigotry, all while trying to fit in. And maybe saving the world a few times along the way.

Title: Unlawful Possession (Riftsiders: Book One)

Author: Paul DeStefano

Publisher: Wild Rose Press

Publication Date: April 18, 2022

Pages: 263

Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy

The lead couple meets at a support group for the possessed.

Enrique Marin wants a quiet life after the death of his wife. Just one problem stands in the way—he’s possessed by the misanthropic English demon, Tzazin. A violent night under demonic influence accidentally leads Enrique to love, and it’s anything but quiet.

Shy, autistic yoga instructor Elle thought allowing herself to be possessed by the very-not-shy sex demon Key would help her find love. She finds Enrique, but she didn’t count on coping with the anti-demon bigotry of society.

Fate—and AA meetings for the possessed—brings them together, but hostile forces, demonic and human, fight to keep them apart. It might cost them everything to keep their love alive.

Unlawful Possession is available at Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09QRYQRJR. 

Title: Identify Theft (Riftsiders: Book Two)

Author: Paul DeStefano

Publisher: Wild Rose Press

Publication Date: February 15, 2023

Pages: 287

Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy

Enrique thinks he’s probably innocent.

Enrique and the demon inside him didn’t kill a man in New Mexico. No. No way. Did they? His possessed autistic girlfriend, Elkie, doesn’t think so either. Probably. Even with all that evidence.

Guidry the Technomancer isn’t so sure, but he’ll do what he can to help Enrique reveal the truth before Memphis “Witchkiller” Aldrain, the Shotgun Sorcerer, catches up.

It’s going to take help from their friends, demonic and otherwise, to unravel the mystery of how Enrique didn’t or did commit murder. On the run, they’ll find hidden Riftsider towns, demonic night clubs, and unworldly ways to get around–a necessary precaution once a hellhound gets on their trail. The clock is ticking. Will they find the truth before bounty hunters – or worse – find them?

Identity Theft is available at Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BQGQSGSZ. 

Title: White Collar Crimes (Riftsiders: Book Three)

Author: Paul DeStefano

Publisher: Wild Rose Press

Publication Date: December 30, 2024

Pages: 315

Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy

Enrique’s first official field assignment leading a team of demonically possessed agents is investigating remains found in the New Orleans bayou that fit in a shoebox.

Elkie insists they first get rid of Enrique’s recent curse by visiting an old and dangerous adversary.

The others hunt the city and swamps where Father Ebbs uncovers blasphemous truths with a new friend—truths that will tear the group apart and fill the bayou with blood.

White Collar Crimes is available at Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0DK3WFJB9. 

Book Excerpt

“Does he talk to you?” asked Enrique.

“We communicate, but not quite in words. More like hunches and feelings. When he’s mad, I can tell.”

“Does yours talk?” Enrique asked, turning to Ebbs.

“She would love it if I listened,” Ebbs replied. “It’s more like a constant distant howling. I’ve learned to box that out. Elle’s passenger is entwined. They both exist in the same space. I’m sure you’ll meet her, too.”

“Tell us a little about yours,” Dante said, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

Enrique slumped backward in the seat, looking to the ceiling with a chuckle.

“Yes,” taunted the lilting British accent only Enrique heard. “Do tell about me.”

“Tzazin,” Enrique said. “My demon is Tzazin Auropolus. I call him Taz. He, well, he’s kind of like me in that sometimes he just doesn’t know when to shut up. When I look in reflections, I can see him. Always just over my left shoulder. Glass reflection doesn’t always work. Sometimes it does, and he insists it’s due to how natural or man-made the material is.”

“Now tell them how startlingly handsome I am,” Taz whispered.

“He looks like a man with gray sandpaper skin. And his eyes are this weird sickly off-yellow.”

“That’s not even slightly flattering,” Taz complained.

“But he’s got some sort of knowledge tap. It’s like having a running connection to Google.”

“I’m an archivist, you human nimrod. Show some respect.”

 “Oh, he’s telling me right now I should tell you he’s an archivist.”

“And when Taz pilots?” Dante asked.

“When Taz pilots, I blackout. And end up in jail. And told I can be out on probation if I come here to learn to control him.”

“You make that sound so one-sided,” Taz said with a snicker. “Who’s fingerprints were there? Certainly not mine.”

Enrique set his jaw and placed his coffee cup on the floor.

“Yo, ain’t no one told me we got a newbie.”

Enrique turned to see a young girl with dreadlocks step into the room biting into an apple and letting the juice flow down her chin.

“Enrique, the rude teen girl is my niece, Yesania,” Dante said with a slight smile and a gesture. “You bring enough for everyone?”

“You got your doughnuts,” Yesania pointed. “Not poisoning my body with more of that shit than I have to, oh sorry for the language, Father. No offense. Hey, Elle.”

Elle looked up and brushed long hair aside, smiling with a wave.

“None taken,” Ebbs said as he reached for another doughnut. “Especially since that means more for us who know what good food is.”

Yesania screechingly pulled a chair to sit directly in front of Enrique, throwing off her hoodie to the floor and pushing dreadlocks from her face. She leaned forward and stared into Enrique’s eyes.

“Go ahead. Show me who you got,” she demanded.

“Yesania,” Dante warned, putting his hand on her shoulder to ease her away.

“No, Unc,” she snapped, shrugging him off. “Show and tell. You ain’t here for some small-time imp. Show me.”

“You don’t want that.” Enrique slid his chair back.

“She wants it,” Taz said, clearly with a grin Enrique felt in the back of his mind.

“She doesn’t want that,” Enrique hissed.

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” Yesania teased. “Lookie.”

The room was overwhelmed by the smell of lilacs as Yesania held out her palm and blew across it as if blowing flower petals from her hand. A sparkling yellow dust scattered from her empty hand and hung in the air in a vaguely feminine shape that bowed politely.

“Meet Cali,” Yesania announced.

Enrique reached his hand out, curious. The sparkling dust extended what would be a hand and settled on his. It felt mildly electric and warm.

“Caliosandra,” the dust shape whispered in introduction as it appeared to grow less dense.

Yesania panted as the dust form fell but vanished before it touched the floor.

“You okay?” Dante asked.

“Yeah, letting her out is tiring sometimes,” Yesania said. “Long day of practice. That’s kind of why I’m here. Can’t get completely rid of her unless I just go to sleep. She’s not the prize I originally thought.”

“She means die,” Taz said to Enrique.

“I know what she meant,” Enrique replied.

“Oh, you got a full-time talker,” Yesania smiled. “Come on, I showed you mine. You got some sort of manifest?”

“You don’t want to do that,” Enrique cautioned.

“Too scary? I can handle it.”

“Yesania, stop,” Dante said flatly.

“No, Unc, I don’t think I will. If I gotta be in this room, I want to know who’s here with me. Show me.”

“If he’s not ready, Yesania,” Ebbs added.

“I am not staying if I don’t know who’s here,” Yesania insisted.

“Reveal me,” Taz called. “It’s only fair if I make myself known.”

 Watch the Trailer

 

 

https://youtu.be/KhsbIKSp2cs?si=lmycCcKHXOoz1n8y

About the Author

Paul DeStefano has been writing professionally for tabletop gaming companies for decades and now brings his unique worldbuilding skills to his own novels. As a writing teacher and supervisor of a Recreation Therapy team at a rehabilitation center, he has unique views on classically disadvantaged populations and their need for representation and expression. After the release of the smash hit game Oathsworn: Into The Deepwood, his novels and lectures went on to explore the quirkiest aspects of human nature.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ www.PaulADestefano.com 

Book’s Website ➜ www.TaintedDragonInn.com

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/tainteddragoninn

Sponsored By:

Review of Beyond the Cemetery Gate by Valerie Biel (#contests Win A $10 Gift Card @partnersincr1me)

BEYOND THE CEMETERY GATE

The Secret Keeper's Daughter

by Valerie Biel

March 3 - 28, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

When the police rule her dad’s death an accidental overdose, 16-year-old Chloe refuses to believe it and vows to find his killer. Alone against a potentially corrupt, small-town police force, a persistent social worker seeking proof that she has adult supervision, and precariously low funds, Chloe learns that her dad’s life as a cemetery caretaker masked a web of family secrets that quite possibly led to his death—and are now putting her in mortal danger.

Needing freedom to investigate, Chloe pretends that her only surviving relative, a famous war correspondent, has returned from an overseas assignment to be her guardian. But living alone in the caretaker’s house in the middle of the cemetery, mere feet from the crime scene, puts Chloe’s nerves on edge even before she unearths clues about the shadowy side of her small town. Help comes from unlikely and surprising allies: the colorful owner of the local retro diner, the quiet new classmate with his near-perfect memory, and a spirit who visits in her moments of greatest need.

But as Chloe gets closer to the truth, someone else is getting closer to Chloe, watching her every move. And when her aunt turns up on international news reporting from a war zone, Chloe’s cover is blown. Now the race is on to reveal her dad’s killer—but perhaps—Chloe isn’t as alone as she thought.

Book Details:

Genre: Young Adult Mystery Suspense
Published by: Lost Lake Press
Publication Date: October 31, 2024
Number of Pages: 342
ISBN: 9780998173641 (ISBN10: 0998173649)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

REVIEW:

I have always loved a good mystery or thriller, but "Beyond the Cemetery Gate" is one of the best mystery novels I have ever read. The author did a fantastic job of introducing us to the protagonist, Chloe, a strong-willed young lady who discovers her father dead in the cemetery where he worked, allegedly due to a drug overdose. 

Throughout the book, Chloe embarks on an adventure to uncover the truth about her father's death. A character known as "The Watcher" appears numerous times, keeping an eye on her. As the story unfolds, the backstory of her family's history is revealed, which adds depth to the plot. 

The novel explores themes of grief, corruption, mystery, and secrets, and it kept me hooked from the very first page. While reading the book, I was trying to figure out who the "The Watcher" was, and I never guessed who it was. The book was exciting, well-written, and had memorable characters. Great Job, Ms. Biel! 

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

CHLOE

In the space between sleep and wakefulness, a sound seeped into my consciousness. The sense that something wasn’t quite right pulled me fully awake. I listened beyond my own breathing for it to come again.

A wail pierced the silence. An animal in pain? Only it wasn’t. I knew it was human. I slipped from bed to stare out into the cemetery. The tombstones always made for fascinating or eerie shadows, depending on how you felt about graveyards. I never minded, which was a good thing, considering my house was smack dab in the middle of one.

The sound came again, more of a moan this time, followed by a murmur of voices. I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but people were definitely in the cemetery. One of them was scared or maybe hurt. Dad wasn’t going to like this. He locked the gate tight every night. The only way in was to scale the tall, spiked iron fence or pick the lock. Either one was going to piss him off.

In the distance, a pinpoint of light moved away from where I perched. It was too small to be a flashlight . . . maybe a cell phone?

I padded down the hall to Dad’s bedroom, calling for him. His door was ajar, and the hall light was enough to show his empty bed, the covers rumpled and thrown back as though he’d gotten up quickly. He must have heard the same thing.

His boots weren’t in their usual spot by the back door, so I knew for sure he’d gone to investigate. I had to help because Dad and I were a team, small and mighty, he said. We always made it through everything together.

In my hurry I forgot to stop the screen door from slamming behind me when I stepped out onto the porch, cringing when the sound echoed through the night.

I waited a moment and then whispered, “Dad,” as loudly as I dared.

No answer.

I angled toward the part of the cemetery where the small light had been, thinking I’d find him corralling some kids from high school pulling a prank. It happened once in a while but usually in a few weeks—closer to Halloween. I knew more than a handful of idiots my age who would think this was funny.

I hadn’t heard the wailing or voices since I left the house. Maybe whoever it was had left? That hopeful thought disappeared as a weird combination of worry and fear crawled up the base of my spine. Just in case it was something more menacing than kids, I hid my approach behind the cemetery’s largest and oldest tombstones. Maxwell, Bell, Ludington . . . I touched their cold granite and the mossy green lichen growing up their sides as I slid between them. I expected to find Dad by now. Where was he?

A terrible thought pushed me into full fear mode. What if the person making that horrible scream was Dad? It hadn’t sounded like him, but … what if he was out here somewhere and hurt? I had to find him!

My breath quickened and a damp sheen of sweat prickled my skin.

I sped up, more concerned with finding him than being seen. The cemetery was big, but I had to be close to where I’d spotted the light. I calmed myself long enough to pivot in a slow circle, my bare feet sliding on the dewy grass. The main gate was open, obviously where the trespassers came in—and hopefully where they’d gone out.

It was quiet and dark.

The cemetery had no lights of its own, and the glow of streetlights reached only to the second row of graves. Here and there, solar decorations shimmered for dead loved ones as cheerfully as possible but didn’t shine far enough to be helpful. The darkness didn’t hinder me. The cemetery had been my playground since preschool, so even in the dark I was able to avoid every tree root, odd stone, or divot that might trip me up.

I decided to be systematic and jogged a grid pattern, snaking through the rows. I stopped short and gasped at the next turn. A body was slumped against the base of my favorite statue, a white marble angel holding a sword and shield.

“Dad!”

He didn’t move. In two quick strides, I was at his side. “Dad!”

I gave his shoulder a gentle shake, and his head tipped sideways.

“Oh my god! Wake up!”

I needed a better look and found the light on my phone. What I saw scared me even more. Dad’s face was pale, his eyes unfocused. I needed help—fast!

Dialing 911 seemed impossibly slow for three simple numbers.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“It’s – it’s my dad. He won’t wake up.”

“What’s your location?”

“I’m in the city cemetery. My dad is the caretaker here.”

“What’s your name?”

“C-Chloe Cowyn.”

“Okay, Chloe, can you check whether your dad’s breathing?”

I bent low and placed my face close to Dad’s mouth. “I don’t think so. Please hurry!”

This didn’t make sense. Had someone hit him? I didn’t see any blood. I swept my eyes over his legs and arms—stopping abruptly at what I saw.

“Nooooo.”

At first, I thought the wailing had returned, until I realized that I was the one making the sound eerily like what woke me.

“Chloe, are you okay? I have help on the way. Stay on the line with me until they arrive.”

“No. No. No.” My cell phone dropped from my hand as I backed away.

Tears blurred my view until I could no longer see the needle stuck in my dad’s arm.

***

Excerpt from BEYOND THE CEMETERY GATE: The Secret Keeper's Daughter by Valerie Biel. Copyright 2024 by Valerie Biel. Reproduced with permission from Valerie Biel. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Valerie Biel writes books for middle grade to adult audiences--stories inspired by her travels and her insatiable curiosity. Her award-winning, young adult fantasy series, Circle of Nine, was inspired by the myth and magic of Ireland's ancient stone circles. She's also the author of Haven, a contemporary middle grade novel, and Beyond the Cemetery Gate, a YA mystery suspense story. She helps other authors with their book promotion and marketing and frequently teaches writing workshops to students of all ages. When Valerie's away from the computer, you might find her wrangling her overgrown garden, traveling the world, and reading everything she can get her hands on. Once upon a time, she graduated from the University of Wisconsin with degrees in journalism and political science. She lives with her husband on a (tiny) portion of her family's century-old farm in rural Wisconsin, but regularly dreams of finding a cozy cottage on the Irish coast where she can write and write.

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