The Nightingale Detective Agency
In 1926 St. Paul, a determined female private investigator
uncovers deadly secrets behind a debutante’s suspicious death in this twisty
Prohibition-era cozy mystery.
The Nightingale
Detective Agency
A Charlotte Van Elsberg Mystery Book 1
by Denise Devine
Genre: 1920’s Historical Cozy Mystery
St. Paul,
1926—where ambition comes at a cost, especially for a woman.
Charlotte Van Elsberg is determined to become the city’s first female private
investigator and help women in need. She’s already landed her first case: a
grieving mother who wants answers about her daughter, Eleanor Kimball, a
debutante killed in a suspicious car crash. Was it truly an accident or
something more sinister? Char intends to find out. There’s just one
hitch—Char’s husband.
Will Van Elsberg, a seasoned investigator, knows the job too well. It’s no
profession for a petite young lady, and he’s not about to let his wife charge
headfirst into danger. Char has other ideas. She agrees to hire bodyguards to
satisfy his objections.
However, despite the addition of her “new team,” she soon learns that this job
is a lot harder than it appears. Doors slam in her face, alibis don’t add up,
and everyone appears to be hiding something. Does she have the grit
and determination it takes to solve this case?
The more she digs into Eleanor’s carefully polished life, the more she uncovers
the young woman’s secrets. Hidden truths that someone is desperate to keep
buried. Evidence worth killing for. Now that Char is asking questions, who is
determined to stop her from revealing the missing pieces?
If you love Prohibition-era intrigue
and twisty whodunits, dive into this 1920s cozy mystery filled with clever
clues, hidden secrets, and a bold female sleuth. Grab your copy today and start
sleuthing!
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“Robert can’t know about this,”
Marjorie said in a low, cautious tone. “He believes Eleanor’s death was an
accident and he considers the matter closed. Any attempt to dig up new
information will cause doubt and suspicion, casting a blight on our reputation.”
“I can be very discreet,” I
assured her. “Besides, a woman asking questions isn’t going to cause concern
like it would if a man began poking around.”
Marjorie scrutinized me with a
critical eye. “If I decide to retain your services, what assurances do I have
that you’re trustworthy? I’ve never heard of you. Are you affiliated with
Pinkerton?”
“No, but I do have experience in
handling all manner of issues, and I have great counsel,” I replied, wishing
I’d already chosen a name for my agency. At times like this, having an
official-sounding name made me appear more professional. “My husband is also a
private detective. His reputation is impeccable.”
Marjorie’s amber eyes lit up with
curiosity. “Is that so? Perhaps I should hire him.”
“He’s overloaded with cases right
now,” Ethel said, injecting herself into the conversation. “He shares an office
with an attorney, Peter Garrett, and he works almost exclusively with Peter’s
clients. Willard has needed their services a few times with real estate deals.”
“But can a woman be as
effective?” Marjorie asked, her eyes shadowed with lingering doubt.
Keeping my expression neutral, I
refused to let my disappointment show. I’d expected men to doubt my competence,
but not another woman. “I will get answers for you,” I said firmly, my voice
steady with resolve. “Give me a week. If I haven’t reached a breakthrough by
then, our agreement is off, and you owe me nothing. Fair enough?”
A tall, gray-haired man wearing a
dark tweed suit appeared in the window, scrutinizing us with narrowed eyes.
“What a wonderful garden you
have, Marjorie,” Ethel said loudly and turned her back to the window.
Marjorie glanced back at the
window and turned away quickly as well, confirming to me that the man in
question was her husband, Robert. “My gardener came highly recommended,” she
replied in a nervous, high-pitched voice. “You’ll have to come back in April
when my spring perennials are in full bloom. Perhaps we’ll have luncheon, then,
too.”
Ethel smiled conspiratorially as
the three of us made our way toward her black limousine. “So, the agenda is set
then? Charlotte will meet with you again in a few days to go over the specifics
of the garden club’s next outing.”
Marjorie held off answering until
we reached the car and out of the earshot of her husband. “All right,” she said
to me. “I’ll meet with you again a week from today, but at nine o’clock when
Robert is golfing. In the meantime, you are not to call my house under any
circumstances. Is that clear? Robert must not get wind of what I’m doing, or
he’ll be upset.”
“Yes, I understand,” I replied
with a nod. “I’ll meet you here next Thursday at nine o’clock to give you all
of the information I’ve acquired.”
Marjorie engulfed Ethel with a
hug. “Have a safe drive home.”
I slid into the car with sweaty
palms and a stomach churning with anxiety as Marjorie walked swiftly toward the
house. I’d just promised to give her the information she so desperately needed
in seven days. What possessed me to make such an outrageous claim?
I didn’t care about the
money. I had exactly one week to prove I was worth the trust she’d placed in
me—or be finished as an investigator.
Denise Devine is a USA Today bestselling author
who has had a passion for books since the second grade when she discovered
Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder. She wrote her first book,
a mystery, at age thirteen and has been writing ever since. She loves all
animals, especially dogs, cats, and horses, and they often find their way into
her books.
She has written twenty-two books, including books
in the Beach Brides series, Moonshine Madness series, and West Loon Bay series.
Her books have hit the Top 100 Bestseller list on Amazon and she has been
listed on Amazon’s Top 100 Authors.
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the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
Enter The Nightingale Detective Agency Giveaway Here
Dragons of Mu
The
Eternals, a non-magical woman as the Chosen One, Marfóir,
and her best friend join in the battle to slay the
most evil dragon on earth who’s plan is to take over the world.
Dragons of Mu
by Pamela Ackerson
Genre: Epic Fantasy Adventure
Drakine is rising.
The only hope is the hero no one expected.
One non-magical woman is the Chosen One. Destiny won’t wait. With her fiercely
loyal friend, Lottie, by her side, and Blaze’s army behind her, Amy is thrust
into a war against the most evil dragon ever to preside over the dragon realm
on the Island of Mu. A creature whose heinous ambition is nothing less than
total annihilation of the mortal world and complete global domination.
To survive, they must fight the ancient powers and unite the fractured
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She
rubbed the back of her head, felt a small lump, and winced. Her head was
throbbing. Her knee was yelling at her and now she heard angry, men’s voices.
One of them yelled, “Over there! There she
is. Get her!”
Another pulled out a long knife and they
ran toward her.
Amy rushed into the woods. Turning around,
she could see they were catching up to her.
Up,
Amy, up. They won’t be
looking up.
She climbed an oak tree as high as she
could. Pulling on the long skirt, she squatted on a branch.
The branch felt odd and slithered
underneath her. A large, looming face in the shape of a dragon stared at her
unblinking.
Holy
cr—
The creature put a long claw to its mouth
and said, “Shhh.”
Amy took a deep breath. A scream was
building inside her but before she could release the ear-piercing screech, she
was muzzled by the creature. Her heart jolted as its wing enveloped her and she
lost consciousness.
A few moments later, she was gulping for
air. Fully expecting to open her eyes and see the hotel lobby, she was stunned
to be staring into the eyes of a dragon.
–A dragon, a huge dragon with big, green
eyes.
You’re
safe.
Amy shook her head. “No. No, I’m not.
There’s no okay in this, whatever this is at all. This is crazy. Why is this
happening?”
Where
did you come from?
She stared at his mouth. It wasn’t moving.
This hallucination was freaking weird. A
talking dragon that didn’t move his lips. They’re going to take her away and
leave her in the psych ward for the rest of her life.
Her eye began twitching. It wasn’t real.
None of it makes sense.
Think,
Amy.
Dragons aren’t real. How could a dragon talk?
Anything can happen in a hallucination.
She repeated to herself. This isn’t real.
Was she dead? Is this purgatory? Her own
personal nightmare of an afterlife? Could she have injured herself so badly
that she died?
She wasn’t a bad person. It certainly
wasn’t in Hades. Well, it better not be Hades.
A talking, psychic dragon communicating
with his mind.
Of course, it makes soooo much more sense.
She watched as the men ran into the woods,
searching for her.
The dragon spoke in a deep, soothing
voice, “Why are you dressed in that garb?”
Amy stared at the huge beast.
The beast’s green eyes penetrated her with
a questioning glare.
“A— a party. We were going to a party.”
He looked at the bracelet.
“Someone put them in my shopping bag.”
“Let’s go. We need to get you into normal
clothing. I’ll take you to Bev’s.”
Amy started climbing down the tree.
“No, no.” The dragon grabbed her and
placed Amy on his back before taking flight.
Amy squealed, inhaled and released another
louder scream.
“Stop.” His body jolted. “Your obnoxious
squawking is impaling my ears.”
Within a few moments, they soared through
the air and flew from cloud to cloud.
Her stomach flipped and she swallowed the
huge lump in her throat.
“Ugh, no ups and downs, please.”
He laughed. “No quick drops? You’re the
slow-boat kind of person.”
Her heart was finally returning to its
normal beat. She was getting comfortable riding on his back and was beginning
to enjoy the view.
“Whoa! This is awesome. I never have
flying dreams.”
The dragon huffed.
Amy was mesmerized. It was freaking
fantastic. The warm heat from the sun and soft air on her face, the flapping of
his wings, it was glorious.
She could do this. It was peaceful. He was
gliding along and she was euphoric.
Hold
on.
“Hold on? No, don’t ruin the moment!”
The dragon took a deep dive. Amy let out
an earsplitting shriek and gripped the back of his neck tighter as he
gracefully landed on the ground in front of a small, wooden cabin.
He grunted in pain.
“Your fingernails are cutting into my
skin.”
“Sorry.” Amy dismounted him like she would
a horse.
“You don’t look like you’re sorry.”
She gave him an angry side-eye.
He grumbled, “Go. Tell her I sent you.”
“Um. You want me to knock on a stranger’s
door, in the middle of BFE, and tell her a dragon sent me?”
“We’re not in Egypt.”
She snapped, “What? We’re in the middle of
freaking nowhere. That’s what BFE means!”
Ignoring her irritation, he responded,
“We’re in Ireland.”
“Ireland? I’ve never been to Ireland. How am I
dreaming that I’m here? I’ve only seen pictures and this in not anything like
the pictures.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. I don’t have a passport with me!”
She rubbed her forehead. Why would she
need a passport in a dream?
“No worries.” He blew out a frustrated
breath. “I’ll be back in a blink. In the meantime, tell her Blaze sent you.”
“Oh, look. A fairy circle.”
His wide-eyed, incredulous stare gave her
pause. He shook his head. “Wow.”
She shrugged.
“I can’t keep up with you.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot. My mind goes
really fast sometimes.” She limped toward the fairy circle.
“What are you doing?”
Amy chuckled. “Making a wish.”
He looked at her like she was growing
horns.
“Um, yeah. Make a wish and the fairies
will grant it only if they see fit. You have to watch out for all the fairies protecting the
fairy circle. You don’t want to step on them, you know.”
Amy stepped back from the circle. “Hello, little fairies. I hope
you’re having a pleasant day.”
He harrumphed and walked away.
“Hey, it’s my dream. I can do what I want.”
Amy raised her hand to knock, but never
made contact. An elderly woman, in her mid-seventies, opened the door.
“Oh, I thought I heard Blaze’s voice.”
“I’m Amy. He told me to tell you—”
The woman opened the door wider. “Come in.
The sun’s going to be setting soon and it’ll be a bit chilly.”
The elderly woman had light hair, dark
blue eyes, and a wide, pleasant smile. Her hair was rolled up into a bun tucked
on the back of her head. Amy’s memories immediately went to the cartoon with
the grandma lady who owned the canary, Tweety.
Amy cautiously entered the house and as
she turned to look about, a man rushed through the doorway.
He was an average-looking man except for
his eyes. They gleamed an effervescent green. The man’s dark hair was a deep
contrast to his light skin.
She never cared for the five o’clock
shadow but it did do him justice.
“There you are, Blaze.” She handed him a
mug.
“Thank you, Bev.”
“Mark on his way?”
“Soon. He has a few things he needs to
take care of before he comes.”
Mark?
As in Harlow?
Bev turned to Amy. “What would you like,
dear? I’ve got some hot tea on the table or, if it pleases, I can pour another
draught.”
“T—”
“She needs normal clothes.”
Amy glared at Blaze. “And who are you?”
“I’m the man who saved your skinny bum and
brought you here.”
“And how, pray tell, did you do that? A
dragon…” Her voice trailed off.
Bev looked puzzled. “So, she’s not from
medieval times?”
“No.”
“She didn’t time-travel here?”
“No.”
Time
travel? Amy interrupted, “I can speak for myself.”
“Really?” He snorted. “Go ahead, darling,
and explain how you got here.”
“Fine. I was at a party.” Amy flipped her
hand in the air. “I tucked the jeweled comb in my wig and the next thing I
knew, these men attacked me and I’ve been having this dream or possibly been
unconscious ever since.”
Blaze sat at the table. “You’re not
unconscious.”
“Then you tell me what’s happening.”
Bev took her arm. “Oh, sweetie, it’s been
a day for you, hasn’t it? Sit, relax, and have a cuppa. I’ll get you some
clothes that should fit you. We’ll get you all sorted out.”
The concern in Bev’s voice was telling.
Wariness clung to Amy as a hesitant smile
tugged at her lips, a stark contrast to how she was feeling.
“I don’t need clothes. I just want to wake
up.”
Bev asked, “Wake up?”
Blaze waved Bev’s question off and spoke
to Amy, “Somehow, you’ve managed to get two very powerful and magical relics to
bring you here. People have gone to war to possess the magical comb and
bracelet.”
Amy grunted.
“Those men stole the relics to take over
Mu and conquer the magical world. They will not hesitate to kill you for them.”
Amy bit her upper lip, repressing a
nervous giggle. “Not ruby-red slippers? Will lightning flash from the jewelry
when you try to remove it from my hair and wrist? Do I repeat ‘there’s no place
like home’ three times?”
Blaze glowered. “I don’t find your sarcasm
amusing.”
She removed the jeweled comb and handed it
to Blaze. “Here. Take it.”
Bev glared at Blaze and tapped Amy’s hand.
“Blaze can get you back to where you belong and to your party whenever you’re
ready.”
“Good.” Amy put her wrist toward Blaze.
“I’m more than ready.”
Blaze reached to take the bracelet off her
wrist. “It won’t come off.”
Bev put her hand to her chest. “What?”
Amy’s voice shook in panic. “No, no, take
it off!”
“It won’t come off.”
“Fine, then I’ll do it.”
She fiddled with the clasp and finally
threw up her hands in frustration. “It won’t come off!”
Bev walked over to the cabinet and brought
back a bottle of Irish whiskey and three glasses, and said, “It has begun.”
Amazon, Barnes and
Noble, and Wall Street Journal bestselling, award-winning author, Pamela
Ackerson is a time traveling adventurer. She was born and raised in Newport, RI
where history is a way of life. She lives on the Space Coast of Florida where
everyone is encouraged to reach for the stars!
Her literary
journey is as diverse and adventurous as the time-traveling escapades she
writes about. With a rich tapestry of genres at her fingertips, she weaves
stories that span from the wild frontiers of the Old West to the intricate
cultural tapestries of Native American history. Her work doesn’t stop at
fiction; she delves into the realms of history, self-help, and even marketing,
showcasing a versatility that resonates with a wide audience.
Ackerson’s
presence on the Space Coast of Florida reflects her forward-thinking approach
to writing, always aiming for the next big leap in her storytelling odyssey.
Her prolific output is a testament to her dedication to her craft, inviting
readers to join her in exploring the vast landscapes of human experience and
imagination.
Honest reviews of
Pamela’s books are always appreciated.
Absolutely no AI
programs were used to create any story she has written.
Thank you and have
a good moments day.
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the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
Enter the Dragons of Mu Giveaway Here
City at the Edge of Time
Stuck at the very end of time.
If you love gritty dark fantasy, epic mythical battles, and
ancient gods interfering with mortals, you need to check out City at the Edge of Time by Janet and
Chris Morris!
City at the Edge of
Time
Sacred Band Series Book 5
by Janet & Chris Morris
Genre: Epic Heroic Fantasy Adventure
“An exciting and brilliantly colored sortie . . .”
– David Drake
Join Tempus and Niko on the triple shores of land, sea, and eternity . . .
Where a young girl trembles between love and sorcerous obsession . . .
Where a prince’s refusal to admit his flaws makes him a pawn of hell . . .
Where a city of immortals learn that Death has not forgotten it . . .
In the catacombs beneath a warlock’s citadel, swords and courage face the jaws
of demons — with a girl’s life and a god’s vengeance resting on the outcome.
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A red
cloud rising out of the east was borne seaward on a hungry wind that howled
like a devil. It was a hot cloud, a wet cloud full of the promise of rain, and
yet it shed no drop on the forest below. It spread across the wilderness
without end, a cloud like a funnel, a cloud like a waterspout turned on its
side.
It crossed
the scorched earth between the forest and the city on the coast, low to the
ground and howling. Then it arched up like a striking snake, a hissing serpent
that ate the sky and reared high over the city’s walls.
By then no
one walked the city streets. Everywhere the city’s folk had fled indoors, even
from the courtyards of the king. No peltast stirred on the battlements; no
sentry held his ground. From within the walls of the palace, men peered out
through slits at the unnatural red storm.
Women held
each other in their boudoirs, and children sheltered under mothers’ skirts.
Noise went everywhere, carried on a wet and flailing wind that made hairs stand
up on arms and necks and dogs scramble under sturdy beds to whine.
Macon was
in his father’s stables with his sister Tabet when the maelstrom started; and
there he stayed, working with the grooms to calm the horses, lest one break a
leg rearing and kicking. Among horses, as men, hysteria travels fast.
Don’t miss the
rest of the Sacred Band Series!
The Sacred Band of Stepsons series is Homeric and heroic
fiction following the exploits of an ancient cavalry unit modeled on the Sacred
Band of Thebes. Deftly mixing history, myth, and fantasy, Morris’ Sacred Band
of Stepsons live and die in a world where gods are real and magic works —
sometimes.
Morris’ accursed cavalry commander, Tempus, first
appeared Sacred Band first appeared in the million-selling Thieves’ world
shared-universe in 1981. Subsequently, Janet Morris, first alone and
subsequently with her husband Chris Morris, take the Sacred Band into their own
series of novels, set in the fourth century BCE. Passionate, gritty, lyrical
prose and unforgettable characters make this series. Perseid Press Sacred Band
novels includes the “Author’s Cut” of the Beyond Sanctuary Trilogy and Tempus, as
well as the epic novel The Sacred Band, and The Fish the Fighters and the
Song-girl.
Find them at Perseid Press
Best selling author Janet
Morris began writing in 1976 and published more than 30 novels, many
co-authored with her husband Chris Morris or others. Most of her fiction work
was in the fantasy and science fiction genres, although she also wrote
historical and other novels. Morris either wrote, contributed to, or edited
several book-length works of non-fiction, as well as papers and articles on
nonlethal weapons, developmental military technology and other defense and
national security topics.
Christopher Crosby
Morris (born 1946) is an American author of fiction and non-fiction, as
well as a lyricist, musical composer, and singer-songwriter. He is married to
author Janet Morris. He is a defense policy and strategy analyst and a
principal in M2 Technologies, Inc. He writes primarily as Chris Morris, but
occasionally uses pseudonyms.
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the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
Enter the City at the Edge of Time Giveaway Here
In the Wake of Gods
Seth thought God was dead…
but ideas tend to linger.
In the Wake of Gods
The Abyss Borne Gods Book 2
by Kent Priore
Genre: Epic Dark Fantasy
“Kent Priore writes
like a natural about the supernatural. American fiction has found a terrific
new voice.”
—Joseph O’Neill, PEN/Faulkner Award-Winning Author of Netherland
Standing amidst the destruction of Magistrum, great sorrow and guilt weighs
upon Seth as he keeps the memory of his mistake close—to continue his growth,
to remain good. A concern which lingers through the birth of his daughter,
Persephone, labeled a True Born God by the personification of the White Abyss.
And due to the sudden death of her uncle, Persephone’s abyssal powers emerge in
a destructive way, tearing a hole through the fabric of the world. Thus,
solidifying Seth’s worries of managing his own struggles while being father to
a god who resembles his past far too much.
Feeling Persephone’s powerful aura pulsate through dimensions, both
antagonistic forces begin pursuing her, wanting to eliminate a threat, and make
her power theirs. Alongside these heavy stressors, Seth must also deal with the
inevitability of Sasha dying the same mysterious way as the other Guild
members.
The Earth devolves into a wasteland as the gods ravish the globe, devouring
every human they can find. All the while Seth, Sasha, their daughter, and
others lay in hiding, waiting for the right moment to strike back, to resist
the will of the Abyssian gods—but can they without sacrificing everything they
worked so hard to achieve? And will Seth, so burdened by his past actions,
endure this, or will he devolve into the monster he once was…the monster he
fears his daughter will also become?
Fans of “Jerusalem” by Alan Moore, “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath,
or “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakovor will enjoy “The Monsters
Among Us.”
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The pitch-black night splits apart as two dark clouds go
their separate ways. A large full moon looms overhead, filtering its borrowed
light through the open window of Persephone’s bedroom.
The young girl tosses and
turns, with soft animalistic grunts emerging from her. Gritting her teeth,
twitching, flitting about, she whimpers as a large weight festers like cancer
within her. A multitude of pressures, cramping with tightness in her tiny
chest. Aching for release. A god, trapped in the frame of a small girl.
Tremors ripple through her
body, intensifying further and further, and—she screeches.
Persephone sits erect, her
eyes closed, mouth agape. Breathing in deeply, her head arches back, her eyes
peel open, and rays of white light shine out from her skull, as she begins
sucking in a tremendous amount of air in one, unending gulp. The bright yellow
moon distorts and wobbles and sways like water, and at one edge begins to spill
into a bright golden river. Stretching further and further, like toothpaste
through its tube. The stream descends toward the Earth, creating a glittering
strand of moon dust, stretching across thousands and thousands of miles until
reaching Persephone’s window, and spilling into her mouth—
“Persephone?” Seth bursts
in. “What’s wro—”
Sasha follows in from
behind, stricken in awe alongside him. “Persephone? Persephone!” she shouts,
running over and throwing her arms around the girl.
Seth hurries over to the
window, watching the stream of moon dust spill into his daughter’s mouth.
Reaching toward the stretched-out moon, specks of dust displace from the
stream, glittering its golden sheen around his fingertips. Looking out and up
through the window, he finds the once full moon half dissolved, crumbled away
like sand.
“What is happening?” Andes
says, appearing in the doorway. Mikhail stands at his side, nuzzling his sleepy
eyes with the back of his hands before waking to the commotion before him.
“She’s not responding!”
Sasha says.
Seth rushes over. “That
light…no, it’s happening again.” Sasha yanks her gaze toward Seth, alarmed. “It
happened earlier today, while reading…this white glow—and this pressure. It’s
the Abyss. No doubt.”
“My apologies,” Andes
says, “But we have larger concerns at the moment. If she consumes the moon, its
absence will devastate the Earth!”
Seth breathes in heavily. A
doomsday event in the middle of the night. She’s my daughter, that’s for sure. “Clear
the room!” he shouts, his eyes illuminated with white abyssal flame. “I’m going
to try something.”
Sasha rises, inching away
slowly. Her gaze locked too fiercely onto Persephone. Seth places a hand on her
shoulder, gesturing with his head for her to step aside. A hollow sensation
takes root in Sasha as she ambles over to Andes.
Seth hovers his right palm
over Persephone’s face, curling his fingers in a circular motion. Hand shaking,
the pull of the moon dust river is too severe, continuing its descent into the
depths of Persephone—setting his entire body ablaze with white flame, Sasha and
Andes feel a gravitation shift pulling toward Seth. Mikhail clings to Andes’s
sleeve, fearing his feet would be swept up in the sudden, unnatural wind
current rushing through their enclosed home. And though the fire is bright, it
does not burn. It does not scorch nor warm.
The moon dust begins to
retract. Rising from Persephone’s throat, she gargles and gags.
Seth’s eyes glow brighter,
and a portal opens at the far end of the room, creating yet another
gravitational pull. Beyond the portal lay a vast darkness, sprinkled with
glimmering stars. Sasha, Andes, and Mikhail huddle together, clinging fiercely
to the doorframe while Seth and Persephone’s abyssal weight holds them steady.
The last of the moon dust ejects from her stomach, and the white glow of her
eyes disappears. Waking up, she’s suddenly lifted into the air by the vacuum of
space—she thuds against Seth’s big right arm, brought close to his side. With
the flick of his left hand, the moon dust flings into the darkness, followed by
a pillar of abyssal flame erupting from his palm. Gravity reverts to normal as
the portal closes.
Rushing to the window,
they find the wobbling moon slowly steadying itself. Aglow with abyssal flame,
searing the fabric of the world back together, it reforms into the same bright
full moon as before.
“I can’t believe that
worked,” Andes says. Sasha stares in awe of Seth, but with an ever-deepening
scowl sinking into her face.
“I had a hunch. The words
she pulled from the book pages floated back into form once she snapped out of
it. The abyssal flame was an added precaution.” Seth collapses onto
Persephone’s bed. The young girl cocks her head in confusion at her father’s
exhaustion.
Andes, noticing the looks
on both parents, steps toward Persephone. “You two get some rest. I’ll tuck the
youngsters back into bed.”
“You sure?” asks Sasha.
“Never more sure in my
life! Now, go.”
Glancing tiredly at each
other, Seth and Sasha hurry back to their room.
Andes pulls a chair up to
the bed and takes the book he gave her years ago from the nearby nightstand. Mikhail
hops into bed beside Persephone, both children content beneath the covers as
Andes begins to read a story.
Persephone smiles widely
toward her uncle. With no memory of what had just occurred, she relishes what’s
to come. A story told by her loving uncle, her most favorite of things.
The Monsters Among Us
The Abyss Borne Gods Book 1
“Kent Priore
writes like a natural about the supernatural, and The Monsters Among
Us is a marvelously dark and true novel. American fiction has found a
terrific new voice.”
—Joseph O’Neill, PEN/Faulkner Award-Winning Author of Netherland
Seth’s life until now has been a product of a diabolical, evil Truman Show, his
entire upbringing a façade orchestrated for malevolent purposes. After his
beloved dies, he undergoes a demonic metamorphosis, which causes the world’s
fictitious walls to crumble.
As he tries to piece a semblance of his life back together and move on, he
meets friends who inspire, but even more harsh truths are revealed, perhaps too
difficult to cope with.
The very existence of life and reality is exposed as a machination of grotesque
gods. And to defeat them, Seth will have to fill his emptiness, for which
there’s only two options…
Bring the world to ruin, or learn to transmute his pain into strength.
Fans of “Jerusalem” by Alan Moore, “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath,
or “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakovor will enjoy “The Monsters
Among Us.”
“I was intrigued from the first
sentence, determined to spend the night speed-reading so I didn’t have to
remain in suspense any longer.”
-Ella Dupuie, author of Fractures
of the Fallen
“Supernatural storytelling at its best, this vivid cinematic novel takes the
reader on an imaginative journey through what could be considered end of
days. The Monster’s Among Us is a masterful creation and a
must read—even for those who aren’t fans of fantasy/horror.”
—Joni Marie Iraci MFA author of Vatican Daughter
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but it can also create. You are a forge that bellows with hellfire. Make use of
it. I have found that magic is best used in creative and unprecedented ways.
Even the dullest magic knows few limits. Magic does what the mind wills it to
do.”
I start to run after Gluttony. I keep the image of those
poor kids in my mind. The rage in me intensifies. My new demon body in
combination with my anger makes me fast, but not fast enough. I can still see
Gluttony in the distance, but he’s leaving my field of view more with each
passing second.
My mind is coated red with the image of the flattened
children. Like a shark who had just picked up the scent of blood, my adrenalin
surges, and I can feel a manic fit overtaking me. My perception is flooded in a
crazed haze. I feel limitless, as if I can do anything. This is a feeling I
know well. I felt it when I decided to return home to Crowley and burn it all
to the ground.
Where’s that voice, huh? Not going to tell me to stop this time?
{No.}
Why not?
There’s no answer.
Whatever.
With nothing to hold me back, I really am limitless.
Instinct takes over. I conjure my flames, but not with the intent to attack. I
stretch my arms behind me and point my hands straight back. Fire erupts from my
palms, propelling me forward. I take flight at a much greater speed than my
legs can reach. I hurtle through the air, struggling to maintain balance. Like
a cannonball I blast my way through trees and homes alike. Planks of wood and
support beams scatter about in chaos.
I wonder about the people living in these homes. Are they
safe? Have I killed them? I don’t care. I feel useful to Melphis for the
first time, and my bloodlust is reaching glorious heights as Gluttony’s body
grows larger in my view. We are passing the border into New Mexico at intense
speeds. Before I know it, we have passed into Colorado, the foot of the Rocky
Mountains in sight. He appears to slow down. What is he looking for here?
He comes to an abrupt stop, pulling up the ground beneath
his tentacles as he does so. I keep my speed and make my descent. I plummet
hard upon his back. His tentacles give out, causing his large body to fall to
the ground. A thundering crash shakes the surrounding space.
“Who’s there?” Gluttony roars. “Wait, no—Greed? You
smell like my brother!”
For a dumb brute, he’s quick to piece things together. He
rises, supporting himself with six of his eight tentacles. The other two pursue
me. One slithers behind and wraps itself around me. The sludge-like tentacles
are as strong as they are giant. I struggle but remain motionless. The heat
rises again. I feel empty, but from that emptiness arises my rage which festers
and grows ever more passionate. Flames overtake my body. I can feel the slime
of his tentacles melting away, like sweat dripping off me.
“Fuck you!” I roar.
The blood-stained clothes of those helpless children rush back to me, then so
do the memories of my own ruined childhood. The flames increase and grow hotter
until the whole tentacle catches fire. It burns away at a fierce speed. Ashes
flutter away as black sludge spills out from the now open hole in his hard
shell. Gluttony roars and his tentacles squirm like a spider that has just been
stepped on.
I climb on top of his hard shell and
beat down my fists with reckless abandon. It withstands my punches, at first. I
can feel my strength rising alongside my rage until at last, cracks form. The
fractures stretch wider with each punch. Gluttony moans as they grow deeper.
Melphis called him a transporter. Just what is he protecting with this dense
outer layer?
My focus intensifies and locks onto
the growing fissure in his shell. My mind goes blank. All that exists is this
shell, the sensation of my knuckles bashing into it, and the white flashes of
rough skin being blown away in shrouds of dust. He is mine—he’ll pay—I’ll make
him pay—for
those kids—for
me—
The back of my head is hit by a
dense, wet object and I am knocked off the beast. My body shatters the trunks
of a few trees as I make my descent.
{Your lack of focus has made you
blind to the monster’s many tentacles.}
“Shut u—” I choke.
Gluttony’s enormous face is now mere
feet away from mine. My elation fades as I watch the skyscraper-devouring mouth
open at its four hinges. A long snake-like tongue emerges out of utter
darkness. It coils itself around my body before his teeth drop down, devouring
me along with much of the landscape. I feel my body now coated in slime, as it
slides down Gluttony’s throat. The darkness of the pit consumes me.
Graduated from Bard College with a BA in the Written Arts,
Kent Priore is an author of dark literature, genre-blending epics and
vignettes, where dark romanticism meets modern psychology for a macabre but
hopeful depiction of inner struggle and the human ability to endure, and
perhaps even prevail. He has a fascination with humanity and is one of the few
to believe that despite our many weaknesses, we are far stronger than we often
think. He wishes to show that strength to those darker individuals, burdened by
lonesomeness, poor mental health, and other forces perceived to be out of their
control, as well as show them that all is not lost.
Enter the In the Wake of Gods Giveaway Here
Cops in Space
“I’m as crazy as an outhouse rat and just as hard to kill.”
Cops in Space
Coletti Warlords Series Book 20
by Gail Koger
Genre: SciFi Romance Action Adventure
Once upon a time, Lexi was a “normal” teenager. Now she’s a
galactic cop with a deadly predator as her boss. She gets to deal with flesh
eating monsters, alien babies, hunky warlords, space battles, and not so bright
bad guys. Plus, the fate of the universe rests in her hands. What could
possibly go wrong? Did we mention the baby? (It’s a boy)
Zarek the Coletti Overlord and Lexi’s uncle gives her the Coletti version of the birds and the bees talk:
“Has your father talked to you about the physical differences between a human male and a Coletti?”
“No.” Where was this going?
Uncle Zarek frowned. “Did he explain to you what happens between a male and a female?”
I stared at him in utter horror. Oh, my, God. He wasn’t going to give me the birds and the bees speech, was he? “Relax I had sex education classes in school.”
“Sex with a Coletti warrior is not the same. I need to educate you on our anatomical differences.”
God, just kill me now. “Do you hafta?”
“Yes, I hafta. Some females find our penis frightening.”
A giggle escaped me. “Seriously? Does it have teeth or something?”
“No.” Uncle Zarek rubbed a hand over his face. “Did you notice the slit in Kaelen’s abdomen?”
I nodded.
“We are a warlike race and to protect our ability to procreate, the Goddess placed our appendages in a shielded pouch inside our abdomens.”
Okay. That kinda made sense. “So, kicking a Coletti warrior in the nuts is only going to piss him off?”
“Exactly.”
What was he being so mysterious about? “Ok, what’s so scary about your man parts?”
Uncle Zarek stared at me for a long moment, and an image formed in my head.
My eyes widened in horror as a snakelike penis with a frill of tentacles around the top slid out of a stomach slit. “Tentacles? Are you freakin’ kidding me? What is it with aliens and tentacles? Ewww.”
“The tentacles increase a female’s pleasure,” Uncle Zarek replied.
The tentacles vibrated wildly like some freaky sex toy. “Oh, hell, no. That is not going inside me. Ever.”
An exasperated frown formed on Uncle Zarek face. “You do not have a choice in the matter.”
“The hell I don’t.”
“Coletti warriors are masters of seduction. Kaelen will simply overcome your reluctance.”
I crossed my arms and said sweetly, “It’s obvious you’ve never dealt with a woman suffering from PMS before. When it’s that time of the month Earth girls are fearless and capable of taking down an armed warrior without breaking a nail. We’re Attila the Hun in a dress.”
“Attila the Hun?
“A conqueror kinda like you.”
Undisciplined
Catalyst
Coletti Warlord Series Book 19
I was sixteen when I found out not only am I an alien
hybrid, but monsters called the Tai-Kok were getting ready to invade our world.
Guess who gets to stop them? Me. How?
My uncle, the mad scientist, created a machine called the portal that
instantaneously sends a test subject from one location to another by converting
them into energy. His idea is to port me onto a Tai-Kok ship. All I have to do
is leave a bomb, hit the retrieval button on my spiffy traveler’s belt and
poof! I’m back on Earth before the Tai-Kok ship goes kaboom. Sounds simple,
right?
Wrong. Uncle Ben doesn’t have a clue where I’ll actually appear on the ship. It
could be the engine room, the crew quarters, or even the bridge. It’s like
playing Russian roulette. The Tai-Kok don’t like surprises or uninvited guests.
To make things even more fun, I have an alien battle commander stuck in my head
and I’m related to a powerful Coletti warlord. Yippee. The chances of me living
to see eighteen aren’t good.
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Howdy. My name is Gail Koger and once upon a time I was a
9-1-1 dispatcher. Too many years of wild requests, screwy questions, bizarre
behavior and outrageous demands have left me with a permanent twitch and an
uncontrollable craving for chocolate. I took up writing science fiction romance
to keep from killing people. So far, it has worked.
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Follow
the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
Enter the Cops in Space Giveaway Here
Waiting For You
They say friends make the best lovers…
Waiting For You
Priestly Family Series Book 5
by Sharon C. Cooper
Genre: Contemporary Second Chance Romance
They say friends make the best lovers…
After a bitter divorce, Jackson Norwood never thought he’d fall in love again.
Especially not with his best friend, Essence Priestly. His attraction to her is
the most powerful thing he’s felt in a long time, and he doesn’t just want her
as a lover. He wants her to be his wife. Yet she’s determined to keep their
relationship strictly platonic.
Jackson means everything to Essence and her son, and she’s torn between her
love for him and the fear of ruining their years of friendship. But after an
impulsive, passionate weekend together, she can’t deny their chemistry is off
the charts. Jackson woke up the part of her she thought died years ago, and
Essence is tempted to let him have what he wants—her.
But drama from his ex-wife is enough to challenge the strongest connection.
Will Essence and Jackson’s reinvented relationship buckle under the pressure?
Or will their bond grow stronger and lead them to their happily-ever-after?
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“Nyla asked if I’d be willing to
share a room with you. I told her it was fine and assumed the two of you had
already talked about it. She even had my overnight bag delivered there.”
“I’m going to kill my sisters. All
of them,” Essence said through gritted teeth, attitude dangling from each word
before she turned narrowed eyes on him. “You know what they’re trying to do,
don’t you? You have to know.”
It took everything within Jackson
not to smile because she was adorable when she was mad. Which he didn’t witness
often. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied, earning him a
deeper glare.
Okay, maybe he knew now, but not at
first. He hadn’t thought much of it when Nyla told him of the change because it
wasn’t unusual for him and Essence to share a room. But now that he knew her
sisters might be trying to push them together, Jackson was totally onboard with
their scheming. They all knew how much he adored Essence and how close they
were, but they also knew Essence was afraid to move out of the friend zone. It
would be just like them to butt in.
He and Essence exited the elevator,
and Jackson followed a few steps behind her as she practically stomped down the
hallway to their room. She might’ve been pissed, and he probably should be
thinking about how he was going to get her to lighten up, but damn her ass
looked good in that dress. Watching her shapely hips sway back and forth
rhythmically made his body stir in response. Hell, if he could get her to calm
down, maybe they could have some fun tonight. It was a new year. A perfect time
to start a new chapter in their story. And a little rendezvous in a luxury
hotel would only add to the fun.
As if she could hear his thoughts,
Essence glanced over her shoulder at him without missing a step. If eyes could
shoot invisible daggers, she was definitely shooting them at him, and he felt
them square in the chest.
So much for living out a few
fantasies tonight. Clearly, the hotel room would be for sleeping only.
Normally, Essence was sweet, kind,
and would do anything for anyone. She also had a good sense of humor and took
her family’s antics in stride. She didn’t usually trip over stuff like this,
especially since she and he often shared a hotel room. The two of them, and
sometimes Tray, vacationed together more often than not. Staying in the same
room was a norm. So, it was out of character to see her this pissed.
Essence already had her keycard out
when she stopped in front of their hotel room door. Seconds later, she stormed
inside the room. She didn’t seem to care if he followed her in or not.
Jackson sighed, catching the door
before it slammed in his face. This was going to be a long night. He didn’t
want to argue, and Essence had every right to be mad—just not at him. She was
probably looking forward to relaxing in a beautiful hotel room after a long
day. Hell, a couple of long weeks, and here he was crashing any solitude she
thought she’d get.
Or maybe she was mad because she
had planned to invite that punk ass Romero to the room after the reception.
That thought had Jackson wanting to
question her about the guy. Had their relationship moved up from just casual
dating? Instead of asking, he kept his mouth shut. She was angry at her
sisters, and he didn’t need her to take it out on him. He didn’t have siblings,
but he’d been around hers enough to know they all drove each other nuts
sometimes.
“Oh, and if you think we’re
sleeping in the same bed, think again,” Essence snapped, tossing his duffel
bag, which had been on the edge of the king size bed, to the sofa.
Jackson yawned, then slid out of
his tuxedo jacket and laid it across the arm of the sofa. Next went the bowtie.
“Essence, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I do know one thing. I’m
not sleeping on the sofa.”
Copyright © 2026 Sharon.
C. Cooper
USA Today
bestselling author Sharon C. Cooper loves anything involving romance with a
happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. She writes
contemporary romance, romantic suspense, as well as romantic comedy. She enjoys
rainy days, carpet picnics, and family game night. Her stories have won
numerous awards, including The Rochelle Alers Best Series award for her
Atlanta’s Finest Series (2022) and The Beverly Jenkins Author of the Year award
(2021). When she isn’t writing, Sharon loves hanging out with her amazing
husband, doing volunteer work, or reading a good book (a romance of course). To
read more about Sharon and her novels, or to sign up to be notified of her
latest releases, visit www.sharoncooper.net
Vex Not Her Ghost
A quirky detective tackles a haunting family mystery.
Vex Not Her Ghost
The Purebeck Mysteries Book 1
by Gill Calvin Thomas
Genre: Paranormal Mystery
Caitlin was four years old when her mother died in
mysterious circumstances. Thirty years later she comes into possession of her
family home in Dorset. As she slowly recovers memories of her past, she becomes
convinced that her mother’s ghost is warning her of impending disaster.
Aided by Charlie Bond, a private investigator, an enthralling story of deceit
and deception unfolds as Caitlin and her friends expose the ultimate truth.
Gill Calvin Thomas is a retired academic who lives with her husband in
Swanage , UK. She finds inspiration in
the landscape around her – the Isle of Purbeck has a spectacular coastline and
beautiful beaches, and it is whilst walking here, that Gill develops characters
and plots the twists and turns you will find in her books.
Gill’s life experiences have informed her writing. For example, her mother’s death when she was
a small child, influenced her first book, Vex Not Her Ghost, where the heroine
has to delve into the past to uncover the real circumstances of her mother’s
death, the cover up and the ongoing corruption.
Her experiences as a social work academic governs the plot of her second
book, Sister Olive Wouldn’t Hurt a Fly.
In this book the fatal combination of a researcher’s mental collapse and
a sociopathic opportunist give rise to a cliffhanging finale.
Reviewers have said that Gill writes the sort of books in which you
find yourself racing to the end, whilst not wanting to finish. Her characters are compelling, well-drawn and
sensitively portrayed. In her books bad
people get what they deserve, but it is never quite what it seems.
She is currently writing her third book.
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MOVE ME
This post is part of a virtual book tour orgainzed by Goddess Fish Promotions.Lynn Crandall will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
An Aeon by birth, Diane Butler knew when she walked away from her fellow Aeons that she wanted certain things: wealth, power, acceptance. But she’d come to realize she didn’t belong with Dark Sides and joined in the battle to save Auralia from darkness. But when her past comes after her, she understand that she can’t escape it with a simple name change.
A surprise encounter that turns ugly pits lone Emmett Forrest against thugs determined to hurt Cassie. With each threat out cold on the ground, he believes he’s done. But when the men report the incident to the Auralia Police Department, he can’t avoid the drama or the intrigue surrounding her.
Read an Excerpt
“Anyone else bored as sin? We stopped the Irish mob and Dark Sides from taking over Auralia in December. January and February, we took some time to recover from Dark Sides’ Project Reckoning. I know you all have been tending to your personal lives, your relationships, and your careers, but for me, those two months were the epitome of boredom. Now March is almost over, and still boredom reigns.”
“Diane—” Braden started.
“Cassie,” she interrupted. “Try to remember, Braden. I’ve told you so many times that I’m using my middle name now. I’m not Diane anymore.” She pouted her lips.
Braden nodded. “Yes, sorry. You’re Cassandra Butler now, not Diane Butler.”
“Cassie. I told you, Cassie for short.” She swept her gaze around the living room at Braden and Payson’s house and flung her hands up. “I swear, it’s not that hard to remember my name. I made a change, I’m not Diane. I’m not that woman any more. I’m aligned with light and love. I’m Cassie. Cassie. Cassie Butler. Gauzy, gossamer, and open, not rigid, harsh, or angry Cassie.” The rock lodged in her gut weighed her down. Was she different? Truly? She’d been putting in the work with her counselor, Claire Eve Kelly, to make the change permanent. But with the chaos of the past not far behind, she ached for the excitement of the life she had. The parties, the conniving to get what she wanted. It had all been so mesmerizing.
About the Author After cutting her writing teeth as a feature writer for commercial and trade magazines, a reporter for newspapers and radio, and an executive editor for a communications company, award-winning author Lynn Crandall tuned her voracious appetite for stories to writing contemporary and paranormal romance, women’s fiction, and romantic suspense. In her books, she enjoys taking readers on emotional journeys with relatable characters who refuse to back down, and face challenges and tribulations with heart and soul. She believes every love has a story, and hers is with one handsome husband and a large, beautiful circle of family, including her cat Winter.
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C.A. Milson 