Five Unless Angie Day (Legends & Shadows Saga, #4) Publication date: March 24th 2026 Genres: Adult, Romance, Urban Fantasy
In this gripping finale, a clean romantasy where the last safe place falls under siege and love has to survive it all.
Welcome to the final round.
Mara and Kylan can’t be happy. Alec won’t let them. Hunting for energy is getting harder for every Legend. The Shadow mansion feels the hunger. Then Alec returns, not with threats but with force. He seizes the mansion, rips their home away, and everything Mara built with Kylan and their found family fractures instantly. He leaves her one challenge: find the safest place you can.
Driven into hiding, they reach for the one place that might be out of Alec’s reach. Secrets surface. Loyalties bend. Alec will not relent. Mara must decide who to fight and who to save when not everyone can survive.
Expect a fade to black fantasy romance in crisis, finale-level stakes, and a relentless villain in full command. This urban fantasy pushes found-family bonds to the breaking point and intensifies a slow-burn love that refuses to die. Dark, vivid, and built to leave you crying, breathless, and satisfied.
“What he does isn’t your decision,” I hissed at Fiona. “If you’re looking for a fight, you don’t have to go after him.”
Kylan pulled his arms away when he felt me tense.
“Too bad Thayer banned you from playing,” Fiona said, sizing me up and her eyes lingering on my gloves.
I smiled and cracked my knuckles. “You think I answer to Thayer?”
“Mara, don’t,” Derek said.
“Why not?” I asked, pulling off my gloves and settling into a low stance. “I’m feeling a little hungry.”
Fiona’s face paled slightly, even if she tried to hide it. She lowered her stance, ready to accept the challenge we both know she’d lose.
Kylan stepped in front of me and I didn’t budge. He caught my clothed arm, “Stand up.”
I shook off his hand and tried to step around him. He stopped me again with an arm blocking my path.
“If you really need to teach Fiona a lesson, take it outside. You have little eyes here,” Kylan whispered.
I looked around and caught Cassie holding Etta. Those little eyes watched me snarling at Fiona and ready to knock her out. I swallowed. I knew why Cassie didn’t like being here. I knew why she didn’t want her daughter turning into a Shadow.
Right now, I was everything Cassie feared for her little girl.
I stood and stepped back, slowly pulling my gloves back on.
Fiona relaxed, silently debating whether or not she wanted to taunt me more. Nikki would’ve. Most of the other Shadows would’ve if this was a year ago. But things were different now.
For better or worse.
I walked over to her and lifted my hand, now covered by my glove. She hesitated a second before she took it. I shook her hand and smiled, but pulled her closer.
“If you come after my brother like that again, I’ll cut an X on you so big you’ll need a full human to heal you,” I whispered. I tightened my grip. “Got it?”
She leaned back, already smiling. “I missed you.”
It felt a little twisted to grin back at her, but it was automatic. I dropped her hand and felt more at home here than I had in months.
Author Bio:
Angie Day found her love of writing while in college where she studied psychology and eventually went on to a master’s degree. She noticed the need for romantic and fantastic adult stories that were still wholesome and clean. So, she took matters into her own hands. LEGEND UNDONE is her debut novel. When she’s not devouring the next book, she is spending time outdoors with her husband.
To follow along with her journey, find her on Twitter or check out her website.
In suburban Westchester County, just outside the frenetic pace of New York City, a deadly murder occurs. After a violent struggle, FBI agent Shane Walsh is dead and his wife, Caitlin, has vanished. At the urging of a mysterious text, the Walshes’ nine-year-old daughter, Kennedy, has been safely whisked away by a close family member.
The FBI is determined to bring down whoever assassinated one of its own and is focusing on Caitlin as a prime suspect. Ryan McKay, Forensic Instincts’ chief technology officer, as well as Shane’s cousin and lifelong friend, vehemently disagrees. Ryan knows the Walsh family well. He insists that Caitlin is innocent, and that she, herself, is in danger.
After convincing his team to cast a wider net, Ryan leads FI on a zigzag course across two continents to locate Caitlin, sidestepping the FBI at every turn, and protecting Kennedy at all costs. But the FBI is on the warpath, and threatens to permanently shut down Forensic Instincts if they don’t back off. Undeterred by the FBI’s threats, FI goes underground in pursuit of their rogue mission.
As the pace quickens, Kennedy becomes the target of unnerving text messages. Both The FBI and the Forensic Instincts teams sense that the end game is near and that the chess match is spiraling to a stunning conclusion. Determined to declare “checkmate” before the killer, Forensic Instincts must not only protect Kennedy but make sure that their team doesn’t end up as collateral damage when the king falls.
Praise for Life Or Death:
"Life Or Death is a riveting read that explodes right from the opening pages with the shocking murder of an FBI agent - then takes the reader on a non-stop, roller coaster ride of thrills and suspense during a desperate search to find the victim's missing wife and to protect his 9-year-old daughter. Andrea Kane really delivers the goods in this book, the 11th in her Forensic Instincts series." ~ R.G. Belsky, author of the Clare Carlson mystery series
"An adrenaline-fueled joyride. Andrea Kane doesn’t pump the brakes in LIFE OR DEATH. Centered around family ties, and who can you really trust when shadowy forces close in? Combustible pacing and a cast of characters you can’t get out of your head long after the last page." ~ James L’Etoile — award-winning author of River of Lies and the Detective Nathan Parker series
"Life or Death, the latest heart-stopping thriller from New York Times bestselling author Andrea Kane, delivers nonstop tension, emotional depth, and a twist-filled chase that spans continents. When an FBI agent is murdered and his wife vanishes, the elite Forensic Instincts team must outsmart the Bureau itself to uncover the truth. Ms. Kane once again proves why she's a master of psychological suspense. Fans of razor-sharp plotting, unforgettable characters, and fast-paced suspense will devour this one!" ~ Marjorie McCown, author of The Hollywood Mystery Series
"Forensic Instincts’ leader, Casey, is recovering from an injury sustained in a previous case when tragedy strikes. An employee’s cousin is murdered, and his wife has vanished. Left behind is their traumatized eleven-year-old daughter, Kennedy. As the FBI and Forensic Instincts compete to solve the case, Kennedy’s close-knit family and the FI team surround her with love and support. Life or Death, the eleventh book in Andrea Kane’s gripping series, draws readers into an emotional high-stakes race for the truth." ~ Stacy Wilder, author of the Liz Adams Mystery series
Life Or Death Trailer:
Book Details:
Genre: Suspense Thriller Published by: Bonnie Meadow Publishing, LLC Publication Date: March 17, 2026 Number of Pages: 304, HC ISBN: 9781682320686 (ISBN10: 1682320685), HC Series: Forensic Instincts, Book 11 | Each is a stand-alone novel Book Links:Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | RBmedia, Audiobook Links
Read an excerpt:
Bronx River Parkway
Friday, 3:55 p.m.
It wasn’t rush hour—not quite yet. So the drive was an hour plus away. That now left a short distance to go.
Ryan remained quiet and tense, staring out the passenger window as he had throughout the trip to Westchester County.
“Where are we going in New Rochelle?” Marc finally asked, glancing at his GPS, aware that he didn’t recognize the address Ryan had given him.
“To my cousin, Shane Walsh’s, house,” Ryan replied.
Marc nodded as they reached their exit and he eased his car around a loop and off the parkway. “Tell me only what I need to know. I’m not going to pry.”
“You’re not prying. I’m just really freaking out.” Ryan cleared his throat and relayed the entire situation to Marc.
Marc took it all in. “You’ve mentioned that you had a cousin with the Bureau. But that’s about all you’ve said, other than the fact that he has a wife and a young daughter.”
Ryan shrugged. “Shane’s a private guy, so I don’t talk about him much. He’s a Special Agent, Violent Crimes division, at the New York field office. He’s been there since he joined the FBI about eight years ago.”
“Does Hutch know him?”
“I never asked. But I doubt it. Hutch is in charge of all the Violent Crimes divisions. That’s too high up to know every agent who works under him.” Ryan pointed, shifting to the edge of his seat, and reiterating what the GPS was already showing them. “Make your next right. Two blocks down and make a left. Go through a few lights. You’ll see a cul-de-sac on your right. Marigold Terrace. Shane’s house is number 15.”
Marc understood that Ryan’s redundant supply of information was a manifestation of his anxiety. He just nodded again, then pressed his foot a little harder on the gas pedal to speed them up without accelerating too much. Suburban cops lived for speed traps.
Four minutes later, Marc turned onto Marigold Terrace and eased slowly around the curvy road.
“Three down on your left,” Ryan instructed. “White clapboard house, blue shutters.” His tension intensified as Marc reached Shane’s home. “That’s Caitlin’s car parked in the driveway. And Shane’s parked in his usual spot on the street. If they’re both home…but they don’t want Kennedy there… Shit.”
Ryan flung open the passenger door before Marc had brought the car to a complete stop. He was halfway to the front door, digging in his pocket for the key Shane had given him long ago, when Marc reached his side.
“Ryan, wait.” Marc grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.
“Why?”
Marc tugged out the two pairs of latex gloves and shoved one pair into Ryan’s hand. “Put these on.”
Ryan gritted his teeth, while he and Marc worked their hands into the gloves. “Can’t leave any new fingerprints,” he muttered. “In case this is a crime scene.” He sounded ill.
“Is the door unlocked?” Marc asked, quickly assessing the garage door, which was up. He might have suggested accessing the house through there, but Ryan was already in motion. And time was precious.
Ryan jiggled the doorknob. “No.”
“Okay, use the key. I’ve got my Glock. Let’s go.”
Ryan’s hands were shaking as he turned the key and pushed open the door.
He and Marc stepped inside. The foyer was empty and quiet. In fact, the whole house was silent in a way that suggested no one was home.
“Shane?” Ryan called. A pause. “Caitlin?” No response. No sound of footsteps. Nothing.
Marc eased his way in front of Ryan, then crept ahead, sweeping the area with his gun.
Ryan followed behind him, aware that, not only was Marc armed, he was former FBI. He was trained at this. Ryan was not.
They’d barely gone fifteen feet, when Marc caught something in his peripheral vision, and swerved to his right. “Shit,” he muttered.
Ryan peered around him and gasped. Just outside the bathroom was a crumpled body, unmoving and lying in a pool of blood. Beside it, were two shell casings and a cell phone that had been crushed. On the other side of the cell phone was a jagged line of blood.
The inconsistency of the blood pattern struck Marc at once. Reflexively, he whipped out his cell phone and took a few quick photos.
Ryan was in a whole different headspace. Pushing past Marc, he strode over, squatting as he reached the body. “Shane,” he managed.
“Oh my God. Shane.”
Marc was beside Ryan in a heartbeat, restraining him from doing anything that would contaminate the scene. He leaned over Shane’s body, checking for a pulse, a breath—any sign of life.
There were none.
Marc gripped Ryan’s arm, standing and pulling him to his feet. Ryan’s entire body was stiff with shock, but Marc knew that consolation would have to wait.
“Ryan, we’ve got to get out of the house,” he said, visually sweeping as much of the ground floor as he could. “The killer might still be inside. He might have Caitlin.” A hard swallow, as Marc considered the possibility that she might also be dead. That additional jagged line of blood didn’t bode well. “I’ll call 911 as soon as we’re on the front lawn.”
Ryan didn’t budge. He was staring, wild-eyed, down at Shane’s lifeless form. It was only when Marc tugged insistently at his forearm that he regained some semblance of awareness. “No, Marc.” He gave a firm shake of his head. “I have to stay with him.”
“He’s gone,” Marc stated simply, placing a supportive hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “But Caitlin might not be. Let’s get the EMTs and the cops here. We might be saving her life.”
Slowly, Ryan turned, allowing Marc to lead him outside the house and to the front lawn, where he sank down on the grass, still unable to process this horrific occurrence.
Marc kept his Glock at the ready—just in case it was needed. “I’ll watch the windows and the doorways to block any attempt at escape,” he told Ryan. When there was no response, Marc glanced down, giving Ryan a worried look. The poor guy was staring off into space and wasn’t even hearing him.
Stationing himself close to his friend’s side, Marc took out his iPhone and called 911.
“What is your emergency?” was the immediate response.
Marc supplied his name, the address of the crime scene, and then, in staccato phrases, the necessary information.
He disconnected the call, knowing that it would be two minutes, at the most, before the ambulance showed up. He used the time wisely, pressing the button to Hutch’s private cell phone line.
One ring. Then, “Marc?”
“We’re in New Rochelle,” Marc said. “Ryan’s cousin, Shane Walsh, has been killed at his home. He worked for the Bureau, New York field office, Violent Crimes. I called 911, so the locals must already have been dispatched.”
Not even a heartbeat of a pause. “Text me the address.”
“Already done.”
“Then I’m on my way.”
***
Excerpt from Life Or Death by Andrea Kane. Copyright 2026 by Andrea Kane. Reproduced with permission from Andrea Kane. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Andrea Kane is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty-three novels, including nineteen psychological thrillers and fourteen historical romantic suspense titles. With her signature style, Kane creates unforgettable characters and confronts them with life-threatening danger. As a master of suspense, she weaves them into exciting, carefully-researched stories, pushing them to the edge—and keeping her readers up all night.
Kane’s first contemporary suspense thriller, Run for Your Life, became an instant New York Times bestseller.
She followed with a string of bestselling psychological thrillers including No Way Out, Twisted and Drawn in Blood.
Her latest in the highly successful Forensic Instincts series, Life or Death, forces this eclectic team of investigators to navigate a high wire act between the FBI on one side and a vicious killer looking to terminate the rest of a young family on the other. The first showcase of Forensic Instincts’ talents came with the New York Times bestseller, The Girl Who Disappeared Twice, followed by The Line Between Here and Gone, The Stranger You Know, The Silence That Speaks, The Murder That Never Was, A Face To Die For, Dead In A Week, No Stone Unturned, At Any Cost, Struck Dead and Life or Death.
Kane’s beloved historical romantic suspense novels include My Heart’s Desire, Samantha, Echoes in the Mist, and Wishes in the Wind.
With a worldwide following of passionate readers, her books have been published in more than twenty languages.
Kane lives in New Jersey with her family. She’s an avid crossword puzzle solver and a diehard Yankees fan.
The Sheik and the Slave Nicola Italia (The Sheik and the Slave, #1) Publication date: March 13th 2026 Genres: Adult, Historical Romance
He owned her body… but could he ever claim her heart?
In the merciless splendor of the Arabian desert, Sheik Mohammed rules as an absolute master. His command is law. His power unquestioned. Women adore him, enemies fear him—and nothing he desires has ever been denied him. But when a golden-haired English beauty is dragged before him in chains, defiant despite her fate, something long buried in his warrior’s heart awakens. For her, he pays a king’s ransom… and claims her for his harem. Yet the proud, fiery Katharine refuses to surrender—not her spirit, not her will… and certainly not her heart.
Lady Katharine Fairfax was born to privilege, not bondage. The cherished daughter of English nobility, she has known only safety, luxury, and freedom. But when she dares to reject the vile advances of a powerful Baron, his vengeance is swift and cruel. Torn from her homeland and sold into the sultry, dangerous world of an Arabian palace, she becomes a prisoner of a man whose touch both terrifies and awakens her.
In a palace of silken veils, whispered secrets, and forbidden longing, passion ignites between captor and captive. Katharine burns with hatred for the man who owns her… yet trembles beneath the heat of his dark gaze. Mohammed has conquered kingdoms—but Katharine’s love may prove the one prize he cannot command. And as treachery coils around them and enemies close in, they must risk everything for a love that could destroy them both… or set them free.
The candle lights flickered low and the music began. It was a beautiful piece by George Frederick Handel, a Trio Sonata in B Minor. Katharine listened to the music and closed her eyes. The violin, flute, and continuo were in perfect sync with each other as the music moved and flowed through the room. She stood with James, sipping a glass of champagne, while she watched her guests mingle. A hundred people filled the room, and dozens more stood or danced in clusters and groups around the food tables. Champagne was in abundance. She had lost count how many people she had greeted and smiled at. She suddenly felt lightheaded as
the champagne drizzled into her veins. The trio sonata continued playing, and its beauty was mesmerizing.
When she opened her eyes and looked across the room, she glimpsed him across the room and knew she had drunk too much. He had walked behind a group of people standing at the far end of the room. Kat almost dropped her flute of champagne.
“Darling, what is it?” James whispered as he felt her lean into him.
“The heat. It’s the heat,” she answered. “I need some fresh air.”
“Of course. I’ll accompany you,” he said.
“No, you should stay. I’ll only be a few minutes,” she replied. She moved her dress hem aside as she moved gracefully through the room.
Kat placed her champagne glass on a table and walked outside the ballroom and into the night. A few couples were outside talking and they greeted her. Her brother Charles and his wife, Sarah, smiled at her, and Charles kissed her in greeting.
She smiled to them and then turned away. She was going mad! She brushed a hand across her forehead and flushed cheeks.
Katharine looked out over the gardens that she knew so well. Earlier that day, she had stood next to James, thinking of the stallion and wanting to give him a proud name. She had always loved Greek mythology so she had thought of Ares, the god of war. But just then, she had seen him. Either that or her imagination was going wild.
She saw at first the figure behind the large group of people at the far end of the ballroom. He was dressed in a deep blue coat and waistcoat with snug knee-length breeches, low-heeled shoes and silk stockings. His hair was unpowdered but clubbed with a black ribbon, and he appeared to be clean-shaven. He was well-dressed, and the cut of the coat showed off his muscled back and the width of his shoulders.
The breeches did well to expose his muscled legs, and his dark shoes had no buckles on them.
But as much as tried to fit into this world, he did not. He was like a wild tiger in a small cage. He belonged in a hot world of sand and sandalwood incense, not in a ballroom filled with dandies and champagne.
He belonged in a world of sandstorms and harems, where the world smelled of incense and jasmine.
Kat shook her head. This was madness. This was what happened to women who had no clean grasp on reality. She wandered into a farthest part of the gardens, where the willow trees had been planted long ago. The birch and ash trees grew there as well.
Katharine was particularly fond of elm trees. The willow tree branches dipped low, almost to the ground, and she stepped inside one. She looked down at her hands and saw that they were shaking. She closed her eyes and remembered his goatee as his mouth touched hers. She remembered his hands on her, inside of her, and taking her that night after the party.
The air was cold, and her breath foamed out as she exhaled. The willow tree branches encircled her and protected her as she sighed. She must let it go. She must forget him. This can only drive me mad; she told herself for the thousandth time.
She touched the diamonds at her throat and tried to calm herself. Silly, she said to herself. She breathed out and turned to go back to the party.
But then, her quick intake of breath and the pounding of her heart inside her chest happened instantaneously. She shook her head and closed her eyes.
“You aren’t real,” she breathed out in disbelief, her breath foaming in the cold air.
“Oh, I’m real enough,” he mocked her.
His clothes were European as she had seen in the ballroom and his hair was pulled back without a wig. But his golden body belied the fact that he was not European and never would be. He would never fit in and would never want to. He had come here for one reason.
“I don’t understand. How are you here?” Katharine asked him, as her fantasy and nightmare collided together. She pressed a hand to her exposed chest as her heart raced.
“The horse, your Arabian, was my Arabian. I bred and sold him to your father,” Mohammed explained.
“Did you know when you sold it to him that it was for me?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. His dark eyes met her blue ones.
Mohammed watched her intake of breath, which caused her breasts to swell over her neckline.
He had watched her that night, not able to take his eyes from her. He had many dealings with Europeans because of the Arabian horses he bred. The horses were renowned for their beautiful bone structure and stamina, but he had never accompanied the horses once they were sold. He had always dealt with the foreigners, accepted their money and had his men transport the horses. This time was different, however. This time everything was different.
Her father had written to Mohammed, inquiring upon the price of an Arabian stallion. Edward wrote in detail about his spirited daughter, explaining that the horse must be the same, intelligent and spirited. Mohammed had accompanied the horse to England to bring back what was his by Arab law.
He had watched her stand near the English dandies at the ball and smile into their faces. He had watched a young blonde dandy rest his hand on Katharine’s waist and clenched his own fist in anger. She had used her body well to trap men into wanting what they couldn’t have. Poor Majeed had found out the hard way. His own brother was enchanted by the little falcon! Majeed should have known better.
And now, after coming across the sea, he was here to claim her again. There would be no negotiations and no bargains; she would be his.
Unaware of his thoughts, Katharine shook her head, confused. Her diamond earrings glistened in the dark.
“Why are you here?”
Mohammed stepped toward her.
“You know exactly why I’m here. I’m here to take back what’s mine,” he told her.
He closed the small gap between them and jerked her into his arms.
“No,” was all she managed to say before his mouth took hers. He was clean-shaven and well-groomed, which only made him more dangerous. She knew what was underneath the fancy clothes.
Author Bio:
Nicola is a Los Angeles native. Early in elementary school, Nicola had a great fondness for reading and began to write creatively. She graduated from university with a degree in communications and has held a variety of positions in journalism, education, government and non profit.
Nicola has traveled extensively throughout Europe, China, Central America and Egypt and loves all things historical.
She has nineteen historical romance and mystery novels on Amazon.
Julie Walker thought she knew her life: three teenagers, a husband, and her job at the Ottawa library. But when a stranger confronts her with a shocking claim about her late father, everything she believed about her family is thrown into question.
At first she struggles to know what to believe. But once the truth is revealed, a series of unsettling incidents escalate into real danger: her family has become the target of someone with resources she cannot match and few limits to what they might do. Drawn into a web of menace and betrayal, and uncertain who to trust, Julie must find the strength to confront an enemy she doesn’t fully understand.
Layered with dread and emotion, THAT OTHER FAMILY is a domestic thriller about fractured loyalties and one mother’s fight to keep her family safe.
Melissa, thank you for sharing your blog space with me today. I’m happy to get a chance to chat with your readers.
As a writer of suspense fiction, I do my best to keep things moving in the story. That often means cutting out scenes that slow down momentum, even though they may provide an interesting perspective on a character or plot point.
So how about a peek behind the curtain? I thought your readers might like a dip into my “outtakes” file. Today I’m sharing a couple of scenes that didn’t make it into the final version of That Other Family.
The first was one of my early opening scenes. Though nothing much happens — that’s why I decided to skip past it — it does give some insight into the kind of person my protagonist Julie is, and how she interacts with other staff at the library where she works.
Julie starts her day.
The air was still cool on Thursday morning as I walked to work, though the forecast for Ottawa was for another hot day.
I stopped for a moment on the pedestrian bridge at Somerset Street to take in the view: the straight stretch of the canal below, with the towers and ornate gables of the Chateau Laurier hotel in the background. As always, the scene gave me a shot of pleasure, a sense of being part of Ottawa’s evolving history.
Arriving at the library just before nine a.m. I checked my Fitbit. Great, nearly 4,000 steps already.
On my way in the front entrance, I stopped for a moment to say hello to Abdi, who was staffing the security desk that morning. His wife had just had a new baby girl. “How’s your little one today?” I asked.
He smiled and bobbed his head. “Very good, thank you, Mrs. Walker.” Most of the staff called me Julie—my first name—but Abdi insisted on addressing me “properly,” as he put it.
As Co-ordinator at the library’s Main Branch, I liked to use that first hour before we opened to the public to do a walkthrough, checking in with my staff and reviewing the program schedule for the day.
I ended up with Tony at the information desk in the main lobby and congratulated him on his acceptance into a local college program. “You’ll do well—and if I can do anything to help, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Julie.” His youthful face broke into a smile.
Half an hour later I was in my office, working on next month’s staff schedule as well as reviewing my boss’ agenda for our next meeting, when Tony buzzed me.
The second scene originally appeared about two-thirds of the way through the novel. Andrew is the boyfriend of Julie’s seventeen-year-old daughter Olivia. He corners Julie at the mall, desperate to find out why Olivia is not replying to his messages. But Julie doesn’t want to give him any answers.
Andrew wonders where Olivia is
I figured I had time in the morning for a quick stop at our local strip mall to pick up bread and milk. As I came back to my car, I heard a voice. “Mrs Walker!” Repeated in an urgent tone. “Mrs. Walker!”
I swivelled to see who was calling. Olivia’s boyfriend Andrew was running toward me across the parking lot. He clearly wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings: he’d paid no attention to the car that almost plowed into him, the driver of the car slamming on his brakes at the last minute.
“Watch out!” I called. “That car almost hit you!”
The driver glared and pulled out to exit the parking lot.
Andrew stopped in front of me, panting. “I’m so glad to see you! I didn’t know where you’d all gone!”
I gave him a hug. “Oh, Andrew, we’re sorry. There’s been so much going on!”
His face took on a hurt expression. “I haven’t heard from Olivia since Saturday. And she’s not answering her phone or texts.”
I sighed. “Yeah, she can’t get your messages now. She and the boys are with my mom, and they’re not in cellphone range.”
“Oh.” Andrew looked confused. “Why is that? I thought Olivia’s grandma lived downtown.”
I nodded. “Yes, she does. But they’re not at her place. They’re staying somewhere else.”
Andrew wasn’t a security risk at all, but he could inadvertently reveal their location if he knew it. So I wasn’t even going to mention the words cottage or cottage country or give him information.
His face had a perplexed expression. “Why didn’t she let me know?”
Olivia might be using this enforced separation to create some distance, but I didn’t know. “Andrew, she’ll be back in touch with you, I’m sure. Just give her some space for now.”
That’s it for today. For more, you’ll have to read the book!
Read an excerpt:
Chapter One
JULIE
The woman slid three photos to me across the table, her manicured nails immaculate. “I know you don’t want to believe me. But you need to look at these.”
I was already on my feet, having told her—Frances Boyle, she said her name was—that we had nothing further to discuss. She had no business coming to me with this preposterous story, and certainly not here at the library where I worked. Her manner suggested she wasn’t used to people saying “no” to her, but I wanted her gone.
Yet I couldn’t help glancing at the faded snapshots she’d spread in front of me. All showed the same grouping: a couple, seemingly in their forties, and two teenagers, a boy and a girl.
“That’s my family,” she said, a rasp deepening her voice. “My parents with my brother and me. That was the year before Papa died.”
Against my will, my eyes were drawn to the man in the photos. “Papa,” she’d called him. He sure looked like Dad. My memories of him were vivid, though I was only eight when he died. That dark hair, cut short, with a white streak just off-center. Neat ears, firm chin, and warm smile. And those pointed eyebrows: unmistakable.
But I’d never seen the other people in those photos before.
Heat flared at the back of my neck, and the walls of the small meeting room felt like they were closing in on me. I shook my head, trying to clear it. I wished I’d thought to bring a bottle of water in with me.
Frances leaned forward, the gold chain around her neck glinting as she moved. “From your reaction, Julie, I’d say you recognize him.” Her gaze intensified. “Now do you believe me? Our father had two wives, two families. Yours and mine.”
This couldn’t be true. I gripped the edge of the table and took a deep breath, fighting to get my emotions under control. Who was this woman and what was her game? Inspecting her more closely, I guessed she was in her late forties, a little older than me. Well-groomed. Stocky but not fat. Wearing cropped pants and a short-sleeved silk blouse, a good choice for the hot weather we were having. Her clothes looked expensive, more Nieman Marcus than Walmart.
“Can you show me some ID?” I demanded. Maybe I should have asked for that earlier.
She smiled coolly and reached into her leather bag, pulling out a passport. The photo was definitely her, but with shorter hair. Her name: Frances Louisa Boyle. Date of birth: 1975.
“Wait a minute. Boyle?”
“That was Papa’s name—James Boyle.”
The tightness in my shoulders loosened. “So. That’s not my dad.”
“When he married your mom, he used the name James MacMillan.”
That was Dad’s name—but this was ridiculous. She was claiming not just that he’d had two families, but two names.
She sat back abruptly. “I can see you’re having trouble accepting it,” she said. “I understand. It’s hard to take in.” Her expression hardened. “I only found out after Mama died in February and I was going through her papers. I found some old letters tucked away, referring to his other family.” She raised her eyes to mine again. “Your family.” After a moment, she added, “I have a couple of the letters with me, if you want to see them. They’re in my safe at the hotel.”
My mouth tasted of something bitter, metallic. “What are you after?”
She clasped her hands together. “I had a private investigator locate your mother, your family. I came here to find out more.” Her gaze swept over me. “I thought it was best to come to you first, to see if you knew about it. Before I approach your mother.”
“You can’t be thinking of disturbing my mother with this!”
“I’m sorry, but that’s why I’m here. To find out what she knew, or knows, about what happened.”
If Frances confronted Mom with this story, it would devastate her. “Give me some time to think about this first.” There must be some way to check this woman’s claim. “Can I have copies of those photos?”
She pushed them toward me. “Those are for you.” She rose and pulled a card from her purse. “I realize you may need a bit of time to get used to the idea. Here’s my cell number. When you’re ready, give me a call.” She dropped the card on the table. “But don’t take too long. I can play tourist here in Ottawa for a couple of days, but then I’ll need to talk to your mother.” She straightened her shoulders and left.
I watched her cross the library’s open lobby, passing Tony at the info desk, heading toward the main entrance. I paced back and forth in the hallway, fuming. What she was claiming couldn’t be true.
But a coldness was rising in my stomach. Could Dad really have done this to Mom? To us?
#
Returning to my office, I closed the door and collapsed into my chair, my stomach churning. I dropped my head back against the headrest and stared blankly at the ceiling. Frances’s story kept echoing through my mind. It had to be nonsense…except for those photos. That guy did look like Dad.
When she asked for me by name at the front desk, I had hoped the interruption would be short. I hadn’t anticipated how shaken our conversation would leave me.
I needed to get back to work; I had to post next month's staff schedule soon. But after staring at my computer screen for a few minutes, I picked up my phone to call Caroline.
She and I had been friends since our university days in Toronto. I was studying library science and she was a psychology grad student. We met when we both moved into a shared student house near campus and clicked from the beginning. We’d stayed close friends ever since.
I came back to Ottawa after graduating. When she moved to Ottawa as well, joining the psychology staff at the Royal, our friendship grew. She had become my rock, the person I turned to first for advice.
“Do you have a few minutes?” I asked.
“I do. What’s up?”
I quickly recapped my meeting with Frances and the story she’d told.
“That’s quite the tale.” Caroline’s voice deepened. “But you don’t think it’s true?”
“I’m not sure.” I wanted to say no. But those photos had left me with doubts.
“Have you told Matt?”
My husband. “No. I haven’t had a chance.” I wasn’t even sure I wanted to tell him.
“Or your mom?”
My jaw clenched. “If Dad had another family, if he deceived Mom, I don’t see any need for her to know about it after all these years. She’d be heartsick.”
“But you say Frances wants to talk to your mom. How can you prevent that?”
“Maybe I can’t. But I wish I could find out first…”
“If it’s true?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s a foolproof way to check. A DNA comparison.”
Trust Caroline to have a scientific suggestion. “Yeah. But I don’t know if Frances would agree to be tested.”
“Why wouldn’t she? She’s the one who says you’re related.”
I sighed. “Testing takes time, and I don’t think Frances wants to wait.”
She paused. “Do you know about Ancestry.com?”
“…I’ve heard of it, but don’t really know—?”
“It’s a site where people upload their DNA, and check to see if they match with anyone. I keep hearing about people finding linkages there to relatives they didn’t know about.”
“So we could check that site to see if we’re related to Frances?”
A doubtful tone entered her voice. “Well, maybe not, if you’ve never sent in a sample. If you send one in now, it could take several weeks for results to show up. And you don’t even know whether anyone on Frances’ side has uploaded there. If not, there’d be nothing to match to.”
I grimaced, disappointed. “Doesn’t sound like DNA’s going to help us. In the short run, anyway.”
“Yeah, maybe not. So let’s look at this another way. Is Frances’ story plausible? Could that have happened?”
Frustrated tears were pressing behind my eyes. “I don’t think so. But I wish I remembered more about our family, how things were before Dad died. I was so young, and my memories are pretty thin.”
“How about your brother? Would he remember more?”
I sat up at the thought. “That’s a good idea.” Patrick was four years older than me, so his memories of our family life back then would be better than mine.
#
Calling Patrick was complicated by the fact that he lived in Canberra, where he moved when he married Melissa six years ago.
Checking my watch and doing a time conversion, I realized it was still the middle of the night in Australia. But if I called around 4 p.m. my time, it’d be 6 a.m. there. I didn’t know what shift he’d be working—he was a paramedic with the Capital Territory Ambulance Service. If he was on the day shift, he’d be up. I’d text to see if he was awake.
He replied with a yawning-face emoji, but I took that to mean I could call. He answered on the first ring, “Yeah.”
I cut our usual time-and-weather chitchat short. “Listen. A woman came to see me today with a weird story.” I blurted out Frances’ claim that Dad had had two families, ours and hers.
His reaction was immediate. “That’s ridiculous.”
Thank you. “I know, right? It’s just not possible.”
“Wait, let me put on some coffee.” A series of indistinct sounds came through the phone. Then he was back. “Tell me the whole thing. From the beginning.”
I ran through it all, starting with Frances showing up at the library, and ending with her dropping a card as she left.
“Ridiculous,” he repeated. He was silent for a moment. “You think it’s Dad in those photos?”
“I don’t know.” I breathed out. “It looks like him. But photos can be manipulated…”
“Can you send me copies?”
“Sure. Hold on. I’m sending them now.”
While he waited for the images to arrive, he asked, “Are you thinking it’s some kind of scam?”
“Well, what could she be after? It’s not like there’s any inheritance or anything…”
He gave a small cough. “What about Mom? Are you going to tell her?”
“No! Can you imagine her reaction?” I swallowed. “Even raising it…I don’t want to spoil her memories of Dad.”
“Hold on—the photos are coming through.”
***
Excerpt from That Other Family by Lis Angus. Copyright 2025 by Lis Angus. Reproduced with permission from Lis Angus. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Lis Angus is a Canadian suspense writer. Originally from Alberta, she has also lived in Germany and Toronto. Before turning to fiction, she worked with children and families in crisis, and later as a business writer, conference organizer, and policy advisor. Her debut novel, Not Your Child, was a finalist for the 2021 Daphne du Maurier Award and was published in 2022. That Other Family is her second novel. Lis is a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, Crime Writers of Canada, and Capital Crime Writers. She lives in a small town south of Ottawa with her husband.
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Abducted J.S. Ash (The Beast’s Burden Chronicles, #1) Publication date: February 22nd 2026 Genres: New Adult, Science Fiction, Young Adult
Trapped aboard a living spacecraft hidden above her hometown, a teenage outcast must wage a one-girl war against ruthless alien mercenaries to save her best friend before the ship jumps into deep space.
A SHIP FULL OF ALIENS TOOK HER BEST FRIEND. THEY SHOULD’VE LEFT HER ON EARTH.
Abigail Ashby was raised to be a weapon by a dad convinced the world was on the brink of collapse. Then, inexplicably, he forced her into early retirement—aka high school.
These days, Abigail’s only battle is defending Harris, her outcast best friend who swears his parents were abducted by aliens. She’s secretly sure he’s delusional—right up until his bedroom explodes in amethyst light.
They wake up aboard the Beast’s Burden, an interstellar warship lurking above their town. Its leader, a sadistic warlord, seizes Harris as his prize, while Abigail slips away in the chaos—overlooked, underestimated.
Until she kills an alien to survive.
Now, hunted through the ship’s living corridors, Abigail must decide: retreat into the shadows, or unleash the lethal training she buried to wage a one-girl war and save everything she’s ever known… Because Harris isn’t just a hostage. He’s the trigger for humanity’s extinction.
“Wait—I’m sorry. Abigail, I didn’t mean that. Please don’t go.”
Abigail froze in her tracks, but it had nothing to do with Harris’s plea. An unearthly shriek had erupted, ricocheting endlessly around the room, and all the warmth had instantly drained from her body.
“What is that?” she asked, ice surging through her veins.
Harris looked like he had seen a ghost. “I have no idea, but it’s coming from—”
With a deafening crack, four dark spheres shot out from underneath the bed and slammed into the corners of the room. Abigail watched, petrified, as the spheres oozed apart, spreading to cover the walls in a thick layer of disgusting sludge.
“You’re seeing this, right?” she said, voice trembling.
Harris nodded slowly, and Miss Biscuits started howling.
The ghastly sound reached a new ear-piercing level as the sludge began crackling with unstable amethyst purple energy.
“We need to get out of here!” Abigail shouted. She dashed for the window, but the light glittering across its surface flared violently in response, and she recoiled, backing away slowly.
The shriek was becoming unbearable. Abigail could hardly hear herself think, let alone process what was happening.
“This way!” shouted Harris as he lunged for the bedroom door, but the pulsing glow surrounding the handle suddenly sparked, jumping eagerly to his outstretched hand.
Amethyst purple light rippled through Harris’s entire body, shining beneath his skin. Abigail watched in horror as an unnatural smile slowly twisted across his face.
“Harris?” she said cautiously.
Harris’s head swiveled toward Abigail and his morbid grin twisted into fear. The amethyst purple light erupted out of his skin, contorting him backwards into a jagged arch. His body was suddenly blasted onto the ceiling, held there for a moment by an invisible force before dropping sharply to the ground, the impact kicking up a cloud of dust from the hardwood.
“Harris!” Abigail screamed, rushing to his motionless body. This was a nightmare. Everywhere she looked the amethyst purple light was encroaching—over the ceiling, across the walls, and covering the floor, inching right for them. Abigail scrambled to grab Harris under his arms and used every ounce of her strength to drag him onto the bed, only just avoiding the energy as it engulfed the remainder of the room’s surfaces.
“Harris, wake up!” she shouted as she checked for a pulse.
“Abby!?” came a muffled cry.
She strained to see Taylor pounding outside the window, an uncharacteristically horrified expression on his face through the amethyst-colored glare. He took a step back and then charged, but the barrier flared the moment his shoulder made contact, and he was repelled away in a shower of shattered glass.
Abigail’s eyes darted around the room, her fear mounting as the shrieking hit yet another plateau. Blood pounded in her ears. “Harris, wake up. Please wake up!” she pleaded, her voice barely audible over the howling of Miss Biscuits and everything else.
The sludgy spheres had re-formed in the corners of the ceiling and they were pulsing erratically. They seemed to be the source of whatever was happening—what was happening?!—perhaps they could be shut down somehow… But how? Abigail grabbed Harris’s hand, hopelessly begging him to wake up, and her fingers made contact with a ripple of raised skin—the scar.
Abigail’s gaze snapped to the samurai sword hanging on the wall. Scrambling to her feet, she ripped it from its mount and unsheathed it. The gleaming blade appeared as sharp as it had all those years ago.
“Abby! Abby! What are you doing?!” Taylor’s voice cut through the chaos. He was back on his feet just outside the shattered window. He was holding up a small metallic object that Abigail couldn’t quite make out through the amethyst refraction. She didn’t have time for this. The high-pitched shriek was growing more and more deafening, the amethyst-colored light burning ever more severely. Instinctively, she knew it was now or never. She had to disrupt whatever was happening.
She frantically scanned the spheres, her entire body shaking. Though she had no clue this would work, the one in the corner by the door seemed like her best shot. “You can do this,” she said to herself, but she didn’t remotely believe it. Gathering all her strength, she sprinted towards the edge of the bed, leaping into the air with the hilt held firmly in her grasp. With a loud clang, the sword sliced through the sphere, miraculously penetrating the energy barrier and lodging in the wall.
As gravity pulled Abigail toward the floor, time seemed to slow, and she watched the damaged sphere start to skitter in and out of reality, spewing sparks in all directions like it was about to explode. The blinding amethyst light and eardrum-bursting shriek reached their crescendos just before Abigail hit the ground.
She felt a surge of pure agony, and then, there was nothing.
Author Bio:
J.S. Ash has spent over a decade working in media at one of the largest tech companies in the world, though his true love remains storytelling. His creative DNA was forged in the 90s—a blend of blockbuster action cinema, console gaming, and the high-stakes melodrama of the era’s teen soaps. He lives with his wife and daughter, who serve as the primary inspiration for the resilient, protective heroines at the heart of his stories.
Mara and Kylan can’t be happy. Alec won’t let them. Hunting for energy is getting harder for every Legend. The Shadow mansion feels the hunger. Then Alec returns, not with threats but with force. He seizes the mansion, rips their home away, and everything Mara built with Kylan and their found family fractures instantly. He leaves her one challenge: find the safest place you can.
In the merciless splendor of the Arabian desert, Sheik Mohammed rules as an absolute master. His command is law. His power unquestioned. Women adore him, enemies fear him—and nothing he desires has ever been denied him. But when a golden-haired English beauty is dragged before him in chains, defiant despite her fate, something long buried in his warrior’s heart awakens. For her, he pays a king’s ransom… and claims her for his harem. Yet the proud, fiery Katharine refuses to surrender—not her spirit, not her will… and certainly not her heart.
