Saturday, July 18, 2026

Book Blitz ~ Beyond Ever After - Wanderer of Pages: Book 9 by Chantal Gadoury

 

Beyond Ever After
Chantal Gadoury
Publication date: July 14th 2026
Genres: Adult, Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult

Return to the world of fairytales that readers first fell in love with in Until the Last Page in this magically charming sequel.

When Jo fell into a book of fairytales, she thought she would only have to save one prince. But now she has to save his brother, too.
In this new chapter, Jo finds herself lost once more in a world of magic, crowns, and impossible choices. The stories have changed, but the dangers haven’t—and neither has the loving a frog prince was never meant to be easy.

He thought one kiss would solve everything—but now, Prince Aneurin must stop a doomed royal wedding. With Josephine by his side, they tumble through twisting tales in search of a clever witch hiding behind a perfect disguise.

Between running from bearded kings, and avoiding unwanted betrothals, they navigate kingdoms and stories that refuse to stay neatly written. As adventures collide and hearts are tested, Jo and Aneurin soon discover that even in fairytales, the most dangerous magic of all is love.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Apple Books

EXCERPT:

PROLOGUE: ANEURIN

I was certain I could not tolerate another insufferable evening in these damned confining clothes. Tugging at the collar of my tunic, I silently let out a curse into the cool night air. The music from the festivities below, a gentle, enchanting melody of the celebration, drifted up to where I stood on the balcony of my chamber. I’d done my best in avoiding the gossiping members of the court who still could not cease bringing up Josephine’s name around me.

This was a night of grand celebration. My brother was finally engaged, and there was once again a promise of stability – a guarantee of a prosperous future now that he was to be wed. My brother, the epitome of regal charm, and his beautiful future bride-to-be were at the center of everyone’s attention. I was grateful for the distraction from myself.

Sliding a hand through my hair, I let out a deep sigh. It had been apparent from the ballroom floor just how much of a stark contrast I was to the idyllic scene. The years I’d spent as a cursed amphibian had only isolated me from the kingdom, and worse, my family. Sitting at the dining table night after night, left me quiet and disconnected, while my family went on as I imagined they had for years without me. The courtiers had much to say about their theories of my previous life. I couldn’t stand to hear their remarks. Memories of the long nights, being confined in a body that had never truly been mine, feeling so far away from home…from my family. My manservant Henry had tried to tend to my every whim, except for the one I’d truly wanted the most—the freedom to be a man again. In the quiet evenings, when only the sounds of grasshoppers kept me company, I had imagined myself as I once had been, and it had filled me with a sadness I’d never known how to describe. I had dreamed of my return home, to the welcoming arms of my father and mother. But the reality of my return was not one of excitement, but uncertainty and fear.

I overheard the whispers about “the mysterious woman,” who had vanished as suddenly as she had appeared. Her presence had unwittingly brought danger by luring the very man who had cursed me into the heart of the palace. Despite it being me who had bargained with the man called Rumpelstiltskin again, Josephine’s disappearance had left unanswered questions and an uneasy tension that permeated the palace walls.

The festivities below were a cruel reminder of the life I could have had but had lost.

I slid my hands over the cool stone of the balcony railing and closed my eyes. For so long, my life had been consumed by one purpose—breaking the curse with a true love’s kiss. I had never allowed myself to imagine what came after. I supposed that I would slip back into the role I had left as a young man. I would be welcomed back with open arms and take my place beside my father as his heir – his true heir. However, as that path had changed, I was forced to forge a new one —a life in which I would stand beside my brother as a symbol of unity. It was my duty to assist him in his new role, and it was an honor to do so – or so I was told. Even as I stood beside him in the glowing ballroom, I saw the hope in his eyes as he looked at me, and the quiet joy as his gaze shifted to his bride-to-be. The way he held her hand to his lips, the love that passed between them – it was clear. Charming would be a noble and worthy king, and I would serve him with unwavering loyalty.

Loosening the necktie of my tunic, I tilted my chin up towards the sky, gazing over the sparkling stars above. “Josephine…” I whispered.

In all honesty, despite my impeccable ability to keep track of the hours of a day as a frog, I had lost track of how many weeks had slipped by since the last time I had seen her. Had it been a fortnight? Longer? Or perhaps even shorter?

The memory of our last night was etched vividly in my mind. The gentle touch of her hand in mine, the sparkle of mischief in her dark brown eyes, and the softness of her laughter as I held her in my arms while we danced. I had been a fool not to kiss her then. Maybe if I had, she would have been able to stay by my side. I had ignored the silent plea in her eyes, ignored the gnawing in my stomach. I’d been so determined to fulfil the foolish bargain I’d made with Rumpelstiltskin, and it had made me so willingly blind.

I had known Josephine had been the one for me ever since seeing her with that irritating woodland man—Arch, with his untamed beard and wise eyes. For as insufferable as I found Arch to be, I knew it was because he was her friend. I had yearned for the warmth of her friendship, to be on the receiving end of her charms, her smiles.

I had also been a fool to deny the truth for so long, until it was too late. It was maddening how deeply Josephine had worked her way into my heart—only to be torn away before I could fully grasp it.

After the defeat of Rumpelstiltskin, Josephine was returned to her world by a mysterious woman. As the clock in the grand hall began to strike twelve, she dissolved before my very eyes, her form fading like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind nothing but the pair of glass slippers my mother had lent her. Instantly, my heart had been filled with longing. I had remained alone on the dance floor for several minutes until my brother pulled me away. In my manic desperation, I pleaded with my parents to allow me to search for her¬¬¬¬—to search for ‘the mysterious woman.’ They inevitably gave in to the request. Hours bled into days, and there was no trace of Josephine, nor the woman. It was as though Josephine had never existed in my world. Perhaps she hadn’t.

Since that moment, I had been haunted by the memory of her disappearance, by the ache of her absence that grew with each passing day. I missed her with a depth of longing that threatened to consume me. A yearning that gnawed at my soul and left me restless in the quiet hours of the night.

I knew I would never find her again. She’d claimed to come from another world that existed outside of my own. Many days, I found myself longing to retreat to my chambers and escape the routine of long meetings with my brother and silent dinners with my parents. I preferred to sit in the quiet darkness and bury my sorrows in a decanter of mead by my bedside. I hoped that if I stayed there long enough, the world outside would fade away, and with it, the ache in my heart.

Maybe then, the enchantress—the cruel and cunning one who had spirited Josephine from me would decide to grace me with her presence again. Many nights, I pictured her slipping into the room, her voice as dangerous as a snake’s whisper. She would look upon my pitiful state and offer to curse me back into the amphibious form I once loathed but now yearned for.

I knew I couldn’t let myself remain lost in those thoughts forever. As much as I wanted to linger in the past, I had a role to fulfill, just as I always had. It was time to reintegrate myself into my family, to reclaim my place—it sounded more noble than it felt. I had to come to terms with my brother’s ascension to the throne, and by the night’s end, I wanted to offer my congratulations to him and his soon-to-be bride convincingly. After all, who wouldn’t want to celebrate the fact that my dear brother would someday be the ruler I’d been trained to become? Duty demanded I play my part, and so I arrived, prepared—armed with charm and wit to navigate a room teeming with courtiers, who were more interested in gossip than actual conversation. I preferred the company of the men in the forest that Josephine and I had encountered to the people of my family’s kingdom.

I danced with many of the eligible women, aware that my participation would help pacify their gossip-hungry mothers. I moved through circles of small talk, offering pleasant smiles and well-rehearsed banter. With every conversation, I maintained an air of composure, masking my lingering thoughts of Josephine. It took considerable effort to hide my discomfort behind a polished facade, to act as though her absence didn’t linger like a shadow at the edge of my mind. I had learned to hide so much when I’d only been a few inches tall.

Opening my eyes, I stared out into the darkness and released a slow breath, letting the night air wash over me. I’d been gone long enough and didn’t want to give anyone a moment to question why I’d been gone for so long. I only had an hour more, and then it would be midnight, and I’d be able to depart from the festivities for good. I peered back up at the night sky, gazing at the brightest star above me. I hoped that wherever Josephine was, she too could see this star and think of me.

Perhaps it wasn’t very reasonable to hold onto that hope…to entertain such wishes. “Find me then,” were her last words to me, and yet here I was, unable to do even that.

“A drink would do me good,” I muttered to myself. I just needed a goblet of mead before I returned to the festivities. As I turned on my heel, something stirred in the shadows beside the velvet-curtained door, barely visible from the corner of my eye. I froze, my body tensing as I waited, my breath catching in my throat.

A faint rustling reached my ears as I watched the curtain sway on its own.

“Gerrit?” I asked, calling out the name of my valet. But there was nothing but silence. “I’m in no mood for games,” I continued. “Show yourself.”

Taking a step forward, I reached for the curtain. Almost on cue, a shadowed figure slowly emerged from behind. To my surprise, the figure was much smaller than I had expected, barely reaching half my height. There was a pause before the figure stepped into the faint light, illuminated by the moonlight. What I saw took me by surprise—a fairy! Her delicate wings shimmered like iridescent pearls as they caught the faint glow from above. She hovered before me, her wide violet eyes reflecting determination as she drifted closer.

“Who are you?” I asked, taking a step back. In truth, despite all the stories I had heard as a young boy, stories about witches and enchantresses, mermaids and trolls, I had never quite believed in fairies. The woman’s gown, a deep blue that sparkled under the moonlight, glistened as if woven from the very stars. Her hair, short and white, was pinned back with tiny glass baubles that gleamed faintly in the night. She looked ethereal, otherworldly—like something pulled from a dream.

“Your Highness,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “I must speak with you.” Her words hung in the air as she paused in front of me. The timing, her sudden appearance, couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Did she come bearing news of Josephine? My thoughts raced between hope and dread.

“I am Lunelle,” she murmured. “A fairy of the stars.”

“The stars?” I echoed, disbelief mingling with curiosity. I had never imagined fairies could exist beyond the skies, let alone among the stars themselves. Was this how wishes were granted?

“My sisters and I observe from above,” Lunelle continued, her gaze centered on me. “We hear the wishes whispered from those down below. And we see everything.” Her eyes grew wide, and she gestured at the sky. “And I have seen something perilous, Your Highness. Something you must know.” Her final words fell to a whisper, delicate yet heavy with forewarning.

I forced my brow to remain calm, though frustration flared beneath my skin. “If you could elaborate,” I said dryly, my tone clipped but measured. Mystical proclamations were of little use without answers.

“Your brother, sire…” She continued. Her delicate features were etched with genuine concern. “Your brother is in grave danger.”

My heart skipped in my chest as I peered at her with wide eyes. My brother? I looked over my shoulder, listening to the soft melody of the ball taking place below. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“If he’s in danger, I must go to him,” I said firmly, attempting to move past her. If there were something to be done, I wouldn’t waste a moment standing idle. But before I could take another step, Lunelle’s small hand darted out, her fingers clutching the sleeve of my white tunic. Her grip, impossibly firm for her slight frame, held me fast. I pulled against her, but my feet felt rooted to the stone, as if the ground itself had conspired to keep me still.

“It is far too dangerous,” she murmured. “Neither you nor your brother is safe—at least not yet.”

My patience waned under the weight of her cryptic warnings. “You’d best explain yourself,” I snapped, my voice sharp with frustration. I leaned closer, my eyes narrowing. “Now.”

Lunelle released a shaky breath before replying, “There is an evil witch who has set her sights on you and your brother. She seeks to undermine you both, to plant herself in a seat of irrefutable power.”

“A witch?” I repeated, incredulously.

“One of the most powerful in all the land,” she continued, ignoring my question. “Her magic is dark, ancient, and fueled by envy.”

I narrowed my eyes, determination flaring in my chest. “If you release me, I can go directly to my father. Surely, he can do something about this.”

A bitter smile twisted her lips, and for the first time, a flicker of something almost human crossed her delicate features. “If it were that simple,” she said quietly, “do you not think I would have already alerted him?”

I gritted my teeth, frustration mounting. “Is this not exactly the sort of thing you’re supposed to handle? Instead of trapping me here, shouldn’t you be doing something about this witch?” If an enchantress had the power to send Josephine away with just a flick of her fingers, surely this fairy could deal with a rogue witch.

“You honor me with your compliment, Your Highness—”

“It was no compliment,” I interjected, scowling.

“But even my magic has limits.”

I let out a slow, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“There is…one person who can help you,” Lunelle said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “One person who can save your brother from making a grave mistake.”

“A mistake?” My mind reeled at her words. What in God’s teeth had Charming done now?

“It’s the woman he intends to marry,” she continued, her tone somber, her words deliberate. “She is not who she seems. The maiden he met a fortnight ago is no longer the one with whom he plans to exchange vows.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “What are you saying?”

“You must find the one who can break the witch’s hold.”

“God’s teeth, not this again,” I muttered, frustration boiling over. Another vague warning, another puzzle without a key.

“You must find her,” the fairy pressed, her tone sharp now, cutting through my doubts.

“Her?” I repeated the word hanging in the air like a storm cloud. “Who? Who am I supposed to find?”

Lunelle leaned closer, her luminous eyes locking onto mine as she pulled her wand free from the waistband of her gown. With a simple touch against the sleeve of my tunic, I watched as my white royal finery was transformed into a simple blue tunic with a leather satchel on my side.

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked, tugging on the simple fabric.

“Remember, Prince Aneurin,” she said, “The face you seek is not the face you see.”

“Speaking in riddles does nothing to aid this situation,” I retorted.

Before I could demand more answers from her, the fairy pulled out her wand. It gleamed in the moonlight as she pointed it toward me.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Lunelle said softly, almost regretfully. “But you will soon understand.”

In an instant, a blinding light erupted from the wand, enveloping me completely. I tried to shield my eyes, but the brightness was overwhelming. The ground vanished beneath me, and I felt weightless, as if flung through the air by an invisible force. The rush of wind roared in my ears, and my heart pounded in a frantic rhythm. When the light finally ebbed away, I gasped for air, disoriented and breathless. My feet landed unsteadily, and I stumbled, blinking rapidly as my surroundings came into focus.

The world around me had changed entirely.

Author Bio:

Chantal Gadoury is a best selling fairytale-retelling and romance author, living in the beautiful countryside of Muncy, Pennsylvania with her mom and family yorkie, Taran.

When Chantal isn't pursuing her next writing endeavor, she enjoys spending time with her loved ones, and taking long walks to the sounds of BTS. She is a TikTok enthusiast, loves all things Disney and loves a good, romantic K-Drama.

Chantal first started writing stories at the age of seven and continues that love of writing today. After graduating from Susquehanna University with a degree in Creative Writing, writing novels has become a dream come true.

Goodreads / Instagram / TikTok


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Beyond Ever After Blitz


Book Blitz ~ Bound Beauty - A Wylder Tale by Jennifer Silverwood

 

Bound Beauty
Jennifer Silverwood
(A Wylder Tale, #3)
Publication date: July 14th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Forgotten gods haunt her steps, and the cursed prince she left behind isn’t done fighting for her soul.

Vynasha is bound to the prince of Bitterhelm. Even if she were to die, her spirit will remain trapped with him in the castle forever. But she won’t give in to Grendel without a fight. With the aid of an oracle, a witchling, and the wolf that claims her heart, Vynasha plans to claim her power as the curse breaker.

Ceddrych guards their nephew secretly while fighting to keep the feral beasts roaming their borders at bay. But the monsters are closing in, and the madness he has struggled with drives him to one desperate, unforgivable act.

A war is about to begin between the forgotten people of Wylderland and the cruel might of Bitterhelm. Beings of prophecy and legend unite in the epic third chapter of the Wylder Tales Series, a romantic gothic re-telling of Beauty and the Beast.

WYLDER TALES is a series of romantic dark fairy tales, set in the past of the wider Borderlands Saga, and includes:
•slow burn romantasy
•forced proximity
•enemies to lovers
•found family
•magical bonds
•wicked witches
•burly beasts
•morally gray characters

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

IN A FORBIDEN DREAM IN WYLDERLAND…

The journey seemed to take far longer than she remembered, and part of her feared the passage of time here compared to the world her body remained behind. Ceddrych had told her countless tales of the dangers of magick, of what happened when one dwelled too long in enchanted dreams.

Here the palace looked less like a ruin wrought from rampage. Candles gave off an unnatural silver glow and the hovering lights that had been trailing Vynasha seemed to thicken and gather as she lifted a hand to push open the doors to the throne room. They cracked open before her hand could touch the intricately carved wood.

Snow filtered in through the broken ceiling and rose vines curled over every surface, crawling up the obsidian columns and steps to the throne. Surrounding the steps, the shadow-spirits of beasts of every size and shape lounged and paced. Their forms flickered about the edges, and their eyes glowed brightly, turning to fix upon Vynasha as she slowly entered the hall.

Upon the throne, the thorned vines had dug into a hunched over man. His blood gleamed luminous violet, the same shade as hers was now.

With every step she took, the full wreck of his downfall became increasingly apparent. The shadow beasts at her back pressed closer, urging her forward. Vynasha clenched her fists and refused to climb the steps to face him.

“Grendel.” Her voice echoed like a plucked lute string through the cavernous hall.

Grendel shuddered and then raised his head and looked at her with dead violet eyes. “Vynasha.” The crack in his voice echoed clearly to her ears. His eyes widened when she remained, and his vine-wrapped hands clawed at the arms of his throne. “You have come at last.”

Her feet began to move of their own accord. She barely caught herself in time. She could not, would not go to him, and certainly never pity him. “What happened here? Why are my roses taking over like this?”

“Can you not guess, Vynasha” Grendel leaned forward, ignoring the press of the rose crowning his dark hair. “Vynasha, you have no idea how your absence has undone me. It has been pure torture to sense you but never able to touch you.”

“Good.” Vynasha took a single involuntary step up the stairs leading to his throne. His violet eyes flared wide with apprehension as she growled, “You and your monsters have made our lives a living hell, Grendel. It’s only fair I repay your bloody kindness.”

Grendel’s lips parted and his gaze took in the full measure of her with all the subtlety of a starving man. “Yet you are here,” he said, a new clarity brightening his violet gaze. His hands flexed against the arms of his throne. “You are truly here, and that means the spell has been broken.”

Vynasha flinched at his sudden smile and found herself unable to take a step back. Her feet drove her forward once more, and this time she had no power over herself to stop. “What are you doing to me?”

Grendel’s hand twitched and then she was flung forward. He groaned as he caught her, the thorns digging deeper into his flesh. She cried out as the same thorns cut her palms as she braced herself against his chest. “I have you, at last, I have you,” he said, eyes bright with unshed tears.

He was mad. No, she was mad. For the instant her hands found his flesh, a roaring wave of need assaulted her. She could rage at him and claim this was his need she felt, not her own. But this compulsion was familiar, forbidden and something she had fought desperately to forget in the past three moons.

“Grendel, let me go” she pleaded as she leaned into him, the pain of his thorns forgotten as he pulled her into his lap and began to press his lips over every part of her he could reach.

“How could I give you up my beauty, my love, my queen?”

She couldn’t breathe. The scent of roses, of life and death, of him were overwhelming. A part of her was starving, had been starving for months, she realized wish sickening clarity. “I hate you,” she sobbed as she tilted her chin and gave him further access to her neck. “If you pull me back here again, I will find a way to kill you, I swear it.”

“You cannot kill me without killing yourself, love,” he said with a laugh.

“Then we both die.” She shook her head but could not help tracing her nose along his neck, to draw in more of his heady scent.

“Vynasha,” he cried as her lips pressed to his pulse. “Please, Vynasha!”

But he was no longer tangible beneath her hands, the thorns no longer piercing them both. The painful aching need to mold herself to him faded just as she did, her hands disappearing before her eyes.

“Vynasha!” He cried with an agony she felt as her spirit was ripped free from Grendel’s nightmare. And the world around her dimmed, consumed by a cloud of inky ashes.

Author Bio:

Jennifer Silverwood lives in the middle of an enchanted forest surrounded by cursed books, nosy spirits, and mischievous goblins she calls her children. After beginning several nonsensical degrees, she found her calling helping other authors bring their books to life. Jennifer is the author of two fairy tale fantasy series: the Borderlands Saga and Wylder Tales. Because she wasn't satisfied writing in one genre, she also invites you to explore uncharted space with the Heaven’s Edge Novellas—and dare to fall in love again with the standalone romance titles Stay and She Walks in Moonlight.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / TikTok


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Bound Beauty Blitz


Book Tour ~ IYSH - A Story of Courage by Greg Price

 




Fiction

Date Published: 04-17-2025



In 1940, Leo Butlion, a young Jew studying to be a medical doctor in Koblenz, Germany, has his future plans disrupted when Nazi forces destroy his family and their business. His heroic escape and commitment to survive drive him to overcome the greatest test man could ever encounter. Ivy Jacobson, a deformed yet highly talented fashion designer, works in a textile factory in Liege, Belgium that is ransacked by Nazi invaders. She escapes their brutality and meets Leo. Leo explains the Hebrew word IYSH which means "champion" and together they agree to persevere and champion the cause no matter how difficult it becomes. Their heroism and tenacity unfold in dramatic fashion as they are captured, separated and sent to concentration camps where their future survival is unclear. The story develops from WWII until the Yom Kippur War in 1973 which takes place in Israel.



About the Author

 

 Greg Price is a writer, human resource expert and an ordained minister. He has traveled extensively throughout the world and shares his experiences by translating them into literary characters who inspire and motivate the reader. Greg immigrated to the United States from south Africa and currently lives with his wife in Mississippi.


Contact Link

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Purchase Links

https://mybook.to/IYSH

Amazon

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RABT Book Tours & PR

Friday, July 17, 2026

Book Tour ~ Proxy Legal Thriller Series by Manning Wolfe

 

Proxy Legal Thriller Series by Manning Wolfe Banner

PROXY LEGAL THRILLER SERIES

by Manning Wolfe

June 8 - July 17, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

 

Dead by Proxy: Proxy Legal Thriller Series by Manning Wolfe

DEAD BY PROXY

 

In this lawyer on the run action suspense, attorney Quinton Bell loses the trial of his career, and possibly his life.

Dead By Proxy takes you on a heart-pounding journey through the life of a criminal defense attorney, whose world is wiped out. When Quinton loses a career-defining case, he finds himself being hunted by the very client he tried to save.

As Quinton navigates the treacherous path of survival, he is running from a powerful and relentless adversary who will stop at nothing to see him silenced. Finally landing in Houston, he hides in plain sight while re-inventing his new life as a trial lawyer.

When he’s forced to take on a high-profile murder case, he exposes himself and those he loves to danger. With each passing moment, the noose tightens, and he must draw on every ounce of wit to outsmart those who still want him dead.

Will Quinton Bell find a way out, or will he forever be a target in a deadly game of cat and mouse?

Praise for Dead By Proxy:

"A riveting read that expertly teams courtroom drama and legal maneuvering with imminent danger, spine-tingling suspense, a touch of romance, and non-stop action. Talk about an adrenaline rush!"
~ Reedsy

"Manning Wolfe just put herself on my list of must-read authors!"
~ John Ellsworth

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller
Published by: Starpath Books, LLC
Publication Date: September 2023
Number of Pages: 275
Series: The Proxy Legal Thriller Series, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | KindleUnlimited | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Proxy Legal Thriller Series

Dead by Proxy: Proxy Legal Thriller Series by Manning Wolfe
DEAD BY PROXY
Book 1
Amazon | KindleUnlimited | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub
Hunted by Proxy: Proxy Legal Thriller Series by Manning Wolfe
HUNTED BY PROXY
Book 2
Amazon | KindleUnlimited | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub
Alive by Proxy: Proxy Legal Thriller Series by Manning Wolfe
ALIVE BY PROXY
Book 3
Amazon | KindleUnlimited | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

Read an excerpt:

Byron was not jaded or trapped into being an attorney as many he knew were and he was not in it for the money, although that part was nice. And, he was not naive, as he was aware of severe injustices in the criminal justice system and felt improvement was needed. Byron continued to be on the playing field because he was one of the last true believers. The system was the best available right now and he actually trusted the outcome, most of the time.

Having deceased parents, one semi-estranged sibling in California, and no current plans to marry, Byron embraced the law as his mistress and his life. He simply loved it all. As most careers went, loving it meant he was devoted to it and good at it. He never glossed over a precedent or twisted a legal argument beyond its parameters. He was thrilled every time he set foot in a courtroom to do battle for his client, guilty or innocent.

Across the aisle, the prosecutor, Sebastian Roberts, relished this chance to incarcerate another criminal. Roberts moved his short spark-plug-of-a-body, decorated with a vest and bright paisley bow tie, around the courtroom as he laid out the federal government’s view of the case. He looked at Byron and his client, then back to the twelve chosen members of the jury.

Byron organized his thoughts, felt excitement tingle through his fingers and toes, and stood up at the defense table. In defending Killian Tyrone, Byron’s opening argument went something like this: “Your Honor and members of the jury. Today, I’d like to introduce you to my client, Killian Tyrone, the accused in this case. Now, I know what the prosecutor said about what he did, and that is probably swirling around in your brain right now, but I’d like for you to take a step back and listen to both sides of the story before you make a decision about my client’s behavior, guilt, or innocence. You also heard his inference about defense attorneys, that would be me.” He smiled and the jury laughed. “I’ll leave it to you to decide, but I have no intention of tricking you or trying to hide the ball.”

Byron pointed at his co-counsel, Michael, a shorter, younger version of himself, but with brown eyes. “My colleague, Michael Everett, and I will present Mr. Tyrone’s side of the case and, when we’re finished, I’m certain that you will find him not guilty.”

Byron smiled at the jury and took pride in the fact that when he won, he won fair and square, and he instilled these principles in his protégé, Michael. Byron encouraged Michael not to be blinded by the legal system, nor be immune to the tricks of the trade. Byron used the tools expertly, but he wanted to win with an equal playing field, or not at all, and the law allowed for plenty of ways to win. To Byron, what was the point if cheating was involved? That only proved he was the best cheater, not the best lawyer.

***

Excerpt from Dead By Proxy by Manning Wolfe. Copyright 2023 by Manning Wolfe. Reproduced with permission from Manning Wolfe. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

MANNING WOLFE

MANNING WOLFE, an award-winning author and attorney residing in Austin, Texas, writes cinematic-style, smart, fast-paced thrillers and crime fiction. Manning was recently featured on Oxygen TV’s: Accident, Suicide, or Murder.

  • Manning's legal thriller series features Austin attorney Merit Bridges, including Dollar Signs, Music Notes, Green Fees, Chinese Wall, and Killer Weed.
  • Manning's new Proxy Legal Thriller Series features Houston attorney Quinton Bell and includes: Dead By Proxy, Hunted By Proxy, and Alive By Proxy.
  • Manning is co-author of Sinister Santa, and twelve additional Bullet Book Speed Reads.
  • As a graduate of Rice University and the University of Texas School of Law, Manning’s experience has given her a voyeur’s peek into some shady characters’ lives and a front-row seat to watch the good people who stand against them.

    Catch Up With Manning Wolfe:

    ManningWolfe.com
    Amazon Author Profile
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    Instagram - @manningwolfe
    X - @ManningWolfe
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    BlueSky - @manningwolfe.bsky.social
    TikTok - @manningwolfe

     

    Tour Participants:

    Click through the other tour stops for can’t-miss reviews, insider interviews, exclusive guest posts, and more chances to win!

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    Reasonable Doubt You’ll Want To Miss This? None.

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    Proxy Legal Thriller Series by Manning Wolfe | Gift Card

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    Book Tour ~ Those Who Shall Die - A Novel of Suspense by Michael Bradley

     

    THOSE WHO SHALL DIE by Michael Bradley Banner

    THOSE WHO SHALL DIE

    by Michael Bradley

    June 22 - July 17, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

    Synopsis:

    THOSE WHO SHALL DIE by Michael Bradley

    A collective of mystery writers, known as the Society of Fibbers, has captivated thousands with their addictive podcast—catapulting each member into the limelight. But when one of their own is found dead under chilling circumstances, the remaining Fibbers realize their newfound fame may have painted a target on their backs.

    Rebecca Stanchion, one of the group’s co-founders, is convinced her friend’s murder is a tragic case of domestic violence—until a sinister attempt on her own life shatters that theory and threatens her family. Meanwhile, Zach Hargrove, a fellow writer, becomes obsessed with the cryptic black cards left at both crime scenes. Each card seems to whisper a warning: the killer is watching.

    Is this the work of a fan driven to madness, or has betrayal seeped into the heart of the Society itself? As an annual writers’ conference approaches, Zach and Rebecca race against time to unmask the killer before the Society of Fibbers’ headline appearance turns into a deadly final act.

    Praise for Those Who Shall Die:

    "Michael Bradley has done it again! Those Who Shall Die is a thrilling novel of mystery and suspense, a tense and twisty page-turner that will leave you desperate to learn who is killing mystery authors and why."
    ~ Lisa Malice, bestselling author of Lest She Forget, winner of the 2023 IBPA Best New Voice in Fiction award.

    "A well-written, clever whodunit with crafty twists that will keep readers guessing."
    ~ Jennifer Sadera, award-winning author of I Know She Was There.

    "... keeps the reader's head spinning as secrets emerge, friendships fail, alliances dissolve, and animosities rise to surface until the final betrayal is revealed. A page turner that plumbs the depths of ambition, betrayal, and murder."
    ~ Jane Kelly, Author of the Meg Daniels mysteries.

    Those Who Shall Die Book Trailer:

    Book Details:

    Genre: Amateur Sleuths, Suspense Thrillers
    Published by: Initium Books
    Publication Date: July 7, 2026
    Number of Pages: 388
    ISBN: 9780986200243 (ISBN10: 0986200247)
    Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub

    Read an excerpt:

    Chapter One

    Zach Hargrove held the serrated hunting knife in a white-knuckled grip as he silently crept forward. No room for mistakes this time. This had to be silent, swift and deadly. Just one fierce thrust into the carotid artery. It would be messy, but she had to die.

    Nellie sat—unmoving—in a black leather office chair, facing the third-floor windows that looked out over Old Mill Creek. If she was aware that he was behind her, she gave no sign. Her dark straggly hair hung over the back of the chair in tangled clumps. Zach couldn’t remember the last time he’d run a brush through it. She needed a wash too, but he’d given up on that long ago. Nellie had been exactly what he needed at first, but after so many years, she’d become more of a burden than a help. He hated having to move her heavy, awkward body from chair to chair, room to room. Caring for her had become arduous. No one would miss Nellie if he got rid of her . . .

    Her head tilted to the right, blocking her neck from his view, and he hesitated. He wouldn’t be able to strike cleanly from this direction with her head tilted. He swapped the knife from his right hand to his left. The rubber handle felt awkward in his grasp. A few practice swings with his non-dominant hand felt odd and clumsy, so he tried some overhead plunges. Maybe he could stab Nellie in the back of the neck instead. A quick blow to sever her spinal cord, and she’d die in seconds. What if he yanked her head back and ran the knife across her neck, slitting it open from side to side? He shook his head. Too clichéd. Everyone slashed throats these days. He toyed, for a moment, with driving the knife through the back of the chair and into Nellie’s back. I’d never get the knife deep enough to kill her, he thought. She’d survive with a flesh wound—if that happened, he’d never hear the end of it.

    With a frown, he shifted the knife back to his right hand and decided to continue with his original plan: one fast jab to the right side of the neck. Zach glanced at his prey. Nellie remained still, oblivious of what he was about to do. He inched forward, his gray Skechers silent on the plush beige carpet. His fingers tightened on the knife handle, and he drew his arm back. The muscles on his shoulder were taut, but his arm had a slight tremble. He had to get this right on the first try.

    After two more cautious steps, he stood behind Nellie, staring down at a scalp of unkempt hair. Oh, how he hated that hair. With one barbaric swing, he brought his arm down, but the blow didn’t go quite as planned. The knife tip deflected off her head, tangled in a clump of hair, and plunged into Nellie’s shoulder.

    “Damn it,” Zach shouted.

    He stood for a moment, studying his handiwork. Nellie slumped forward, the knife standing tall in her shoulder.

    He tried to withdraw the knife slowly, but the serrated blade caught on several threads and tore the seam in Nellie’s shoulder. Clumps of polyester stuffing—like giant cotton balls—tumbled out of the hole and fell to the floor. Zach let out a long sigh as he placed the knife on the nearby desk. Now he’d have to sew her up. He spun the office chair around and stared at Nellie. Her featureless face and black button eyes stared blankly back at him. Patches—both big and small—covered her arms, abdomen, head, and legs—scars of the many instances of his mistreatment.

    “I’m glad you don’t hold a grudge,” he said.

    Zach wrapped his arms around the life-size dummy and lifted her out of the chair, her canvas skin rough on his bare arms. A trail of white filling marked his steps as he manhandled her across the room and propped her up on the sofa.

    Dropping into his desk chair, he reviewed the previous few paragraphs he’d written just before he attempted to kill Nellie. The murder scene “seemed” to flow, but he wasn’t satisfied with the way it turned out. His antagonist—the mysterious Mr. Price—had entered the home of Dallas Kincaid with the intention of killing Kincaid’s new girlfriend. But Zach had found the scene difficult to write. There was something about the logistics that bothered him, hence his attempt to “kill” Nellie, his long-time partner for acting out crime scenes. For her part, Nellie had endured a dozen or more stabbings, being thrown from windows, run over by cars, and even shot twice. And yet she never once complained.

    Zach stood again, snatched a Bic pen from the desk, and paced around the room, pausing on occasion to glance out the windows that covered all four walls. The third floor of his house, his “Author’s Loft,” as he liked to call it, had a 360-degree view of the surrounding yard as well as the creek that flowed past the back of his property. The small Delaware town of Lewes hadn’t been his first choice of places to call home. But when he’d first toured the house three years ago, the bright openness of the room couldn’t have been more perfect for him. It satisfied his need for a place to write, and the room’s openness was preferred over the more confined spaces he’d seen in every other house he’d toured. He’d put an offer on the place immediately and moved in a month later.

    As he paced, Zach furiously clicked the button on the pen with his thumb. He passed the lone bookshelf, stuck in the corner between the adjoining walls’ windows, and paused to study the colorful hardback spines of his previous eight Dallas Kincaid Mystery novels. Five of them had become New York Times bestsellers, but not the last two. His protagonist, Dallas Kincaid, had become increasingly more difficult to write over the past couple years. The character had become too clichéd, too much like every other amateur detective in the market, and Zach was struggling to keep each new book fresh and original. He was ready for something new, something different.

    “This will be the last Kincaid novel,” he’d told his agent, Mariah Maddison.

    “Don’t be too hasty,” she’d said. “You might regret those words once the book is released.”

    With a sigh, Zach slipped the Bic pen into his pants pocket, returned to his desk, and hovered his fingers over the keyboard of his laptop. He stared at the text on the screen, the words fading together into a jumble of pixels that made no more sense than when he’d read them a few minutes ago.

    Pushing back from the desk, he growled, “Hell,” and stood, rounding the half wall that hid the stairs from view and descended into the house below.

    In the kitchen, Zach grabbed a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale from the fridge, twisted the top off and took a long sip. A calendar—tacked to a nearby corkboard—was open to the month of June. A quick glance over the dates made his stomach churn. He had until mid-July to finish the first draft of the next Dallas Kincaid novel. That gave him six weeks. The manuscript was only thirty percent done. He sighed as he eyeballed the next few weeks. There was an upcoming recording session for the Society of Fibbers podcast. A book signing with Jasper Stone and Martina Vargas in Virginia. He flipped up the calendar page and looked over July. The week after Independence Day was blocked out for ThrillNYC in New York City. Damn, that only gives me five weeks to finish the book. His stomach twisted in knots as his anxiety rose.

    Zach moved through the open dining room to the sliding glass door, stepped onto his back deck, and gazed out across the creek. The tide was out, and the muddy banks were exposed to the Tuesday afternoon sun. An eagle was perched in the tree that hung over the water. The lush cordgrass stood tall along the edges of the creek, outlining the maze of the twisting waterway. A gentle breeze rustled the tips of the grass. The faint aroma of marsh water punctuated each deep breath. So peaceful. So relaxing. He closed his eyes and listened to the tranquility around him. But it did little to subdue the angst within him. When was his next therapy appointment? Maybe it was time to try some of the meds his therapist had so often suggested.

    From within the house, the shrill of his mobile phone interrupted the serenity of the moment. Moving back into the kitchen, he scooped up the phone from the counter where he’d left it.

    The voice that greeted him was grave and somber. “Zach? It’s Rebecca. Something terrible has happened. Martina Vargas is dead.”

    ***

    Excerpt from Those Who Shall Die by Michael Bradley. Copyright 2026 by Michael Bradley. Reproduced with permission from Michael Bradley. All rights reserved.

     

     

    Author Bio:

    Michael Bradley

    Michael Bradley is an award-winning author from Delaware who started life as a radio disc jockey, working at stations in New Jersey and West Virginia. His time in radio provided him with a wealth of fond, enduring, and sometimes scandalous memories that he hopes to one day commit to paper.

    After spending eight years “on-the-air,” he realized that he needed to get a real job. He has spent the next twenty or so years working in Information Technology. And yes, he has said “try turning it off and on again” more times than he wants to admit.

    Never one to waste an experience, he used his familiarity with life on the radio for many of his suspense novels. His third novel, DEAD AIR (2020), won a Foreword INDIES Award and a IBPA Benjamin Franklin Award.

    Learn more about Michael Bradley and his books:

    mbradleyonline.com
    Amazon Author Profile
    Goodreads - @mjbradley88
    BookBub - @mjbradley88
    Instagram - @mjbradley88
    Threads - @mjbradley88
    Facebook - @mjbradley88

     

    Tour Participants:

    Click through the other tour stops for can’t-miss reviews, insider interviews, exclusive guest posts, and more chances to win!

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    Win Before The Next Victim Falls

    This giveaway is hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Michael Bradley. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.
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    Virtual Book Tour ~ A Duchess with A Secret by Alix Nichols

     

     



    This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Alix Nichols will be awarding a digital box set of her bestselling series The Darcy Brothers to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

    For sixteen years, they’ve hated each other...
    and craved each other.

    Widowed and betrayed, Eva Castellane will do anything to protect her daughter’s inheritance.
    Standing in her way?
    Alex Castellane—her late husband’s steely, magnetic half brother.
    The man poised to take it all.
    Her worst enemy.
    Her forbidden temptation.

    Stuck together in the family castle, their legal fight spirals into war…
    until a common threat forces a reluctant alliance.
    Desire blurs the lines.
    Chemistry sizzles.
    Rules get broken.

    But as the verdict nears, one slip could unravel Eva’s explosive secret…

    A Duchess with a Secret stands alone within the Montevor Royals Saga. It is a spicy contemporary enemies-to-lovers romance with forced proximity, family secrets, and a hard-won HEA.


    Read an Excerpt

    Eva

    “He’s here,” Millie whispers.

    I don’t look. I don’t need to.

    The man she’s warning me about radiates a chill so palpable I can sense which door he entered through. The air in Fort Vauclairt’s reception hall, warmed by hundreds of flickering candles and the breath of mourners grows colder by the second.

    Of course, Alex would show up! Nothing like a funeral to size up how much of the estate he can have, just because he happens to share the same father as Geoffroy.

    I’m being unfair, I know.

    After all, Alex is the old duke’s second son. In neighboring France, the math prodigy would’ve inherited half of the duchy when Rodolphe passed.

    Then again, there are no dukes or duchies in the Republic of France, nor are we subject to its laws. We’re old school in Mount Evor. Here, the principles of primogeniture and representation still reign supreme. The firstborn takes it all. The child comes before the sibling. With both Geoffroy and Julian gone, Millie’s birthright ensures that she inherits everything.

    The only way Alex Castellane gets a chunk of the estate is if Geoffroy named him in his will. Which I know he didn’t. My late husband and his younger half brother had been estranged long before I met and married Geoffroy Castellane, a dashing widower twice my age.

    Alex will get nothing or next to nothing. And Millie will be the next Duchess of Rohinn.

    He knows this, of course he does. Yet he carries his tall, infuriatingly well-proportioned form with confidence, which lends an air of legitimacy to his potential claims.

    About the Author:



    Alix Nichols is a caffeine addict, a longtime fan of Mr. Darcy. She pens sexy romantic comedies and romantasy. Her books have been described as "pure pleasure" (Kirkus Reviews) that “keep fans of romance hanging off the edge of their seat” (Romantic Times).

    At the age of six, she released her first book. It featured highly creative spelling on a dozen pages stitched together and bound in velvet paper.

    Decades later, she lives in France and still writes. Her spelling has improved (somewhat), she has become a Kindle Scout winner, Chanticleer First Place winner, USA Today bestseller, Book Riot's Top 100 Must-Read International Romance author, and Amazon All-Star for being one of the 100 most-read authors in Kindle Unlimited.

    Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/author/alixnichols
    Website: http://www.alixnichols.com
    Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/alixnichols
    Facebook: http://facebook.com/AuthorAlixNichols
    BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/alix-nichols
    Newsletter Signup (and a free bundle!): http://bit.ly/alix-freebook

    Book Blitz ~ Hearth or Heart - Book One: The Bowman Girls by Emily Lane

     

    Hearth or Heart
    Emily Lane
    (The Bowman Girls, #1)
    Publication date: July 13th 2026
    Genres: Adult, Historical, Historical Romance, Romance

    After her father dies, Effie Bowman and her eight sisters are left penniless, homeless, and alone. Salvation comes in the form of the new custodian of the estate, Mr Thornaby. But the more she learns of Mr Thornaby, the more she realises he needs her discretion as much as she needs his security.

    In her efforts to moderate the wild Mr Thornaby, she recruits the unlikely aid of ton society’s most determined widower, Sir John Callander.

    As the season progresses and Effie pulls Sir John deeper into her desperate schemes to moderate Mr Thornaby, both are forced to wonder if Effie is attempting to tame the wrong gentleman.

    Goodreads / Amazon

    EXCERPT:

    Of all the consequences to befall a clutch of daughters belonging to an entailed estate, this one was quite outside the common.

    ‘£20 a month in pin money?!’ cried Effie.

    ‘Each.’

    Mrs Thornaby, ensconced in a cream morning gown of twilled French silk that seemed to defy her age, smiled most becomingly upon her niece.

    ‘That is just for your frills and affects and whatever other small accoutrements you young girls require these days,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘Your dresses, gowns, and hats, of course, can be drawn against my son’s account.’

    ‘Ma’am, I could never.’

    ‘Oh, yes, you could,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘That boy has too much money.’

    Effie’s eyes flashed, and she yanked her gaze down.

    Grimacing, Mrs Thornaby said, ‘So, your mother has told you a little of it, I collect.’

    ‘She has, ma’am,’ Effie admitted.

    Mrs Thornaby looked her up and down.

    ‘Your mother tells me you are an exceptionally good manager.’

    Now the talk of money had faded, Effie’s calm, dark eyes levelled upon Mrs Thornaby once more.

    ‘Yes, ma’am, it’s true.’

    ‘I suppose with eight sisters, borne of a mother of my sister’s temperament, you, as the eldest, should rather be forced into such a role, even if it was not of your disposition.’

    A smirk crossed Effie’s features as she declared, ‘That much is true, to be sure.’

    ‘But men and boys are a different matter indeed.’

    Effie’s hands, trying to thread a needle, paused. She set her embroidery box down and took up her cup of tea.

    ‘I have no brothers.’

    ‘Clearly,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘And husbands? What thoughts have you on them?’

    ‘Not so many, ma’am. I can scarcely imagine having one, never mind plural!’

    Mrs Thornaby did not laugh. Instead she set down her teacup with a clatter.

    ‘As you may have heard, my son returned last night from Brighton.’ She paused. ‘My son is… a particular kind of fellow.’

    Effie’s brow arched. Having heard—during the small hours of the morning—this particular kind of fellow stumble through the upstairs hallway singing about the roast beef of Great Britain, she was inclined to agree with a great many insinuations that issued from that vague sobriquet.

    ‘Indeed?’

    ‘He is now, of course, the custodian of your late father’s estate—by some contortion of family lines.’

    Society in the northeast of England was sparse. Somehow, Mrs Thornaby’s son had ended up taking title to the entail of her sister’s late husband’s estate.

    ‘Yes.’

    ‘It is all that is natural, then,’ Mrs Thornaby went on. ‘That my son should marry you, to maintain my sister’s place at Barraton.’

    What little of the sisterly rivalry that had been passed on to Effie permitted her to regard this piece of charity with deep suspicion. Her eyes cinched a touch.

    ‘With respect, ma’am, I fail to see why Mr Thornaby should want to marry me.’

    ‘I do not.’

    Blushing, Effie picked up her embroidery box again. ‘I mean, ma’am, that Mr Thornaby must have a great many… um, admirers. I cannot see that he will mark me with any distinction.’

    ‘He will not, but I shall tell him he is to marry you. Likely, the novelty of it will tickle him, and he will entertain it for a while. Thereafter, it is your duty to… charm him.’

    Effie touched her nose. She looked around the cavernous room.

    It was an early, grey morning, but the shiny mahogany and silk furniture, glossy wallpapered walls, and great sash windows shone under the blaze of three gilded hearths.

    ‘Oh. I see.’

    Mrs Thornaby’s eyes followed Effie’s, and she grimaced.

    ‘We are family, Miss Bowman. Now more than we ever were. My son represents Barraton. He is Barraton.’

    Effie’s jaw quirked.

    ‘To put things plainly, my dear, it has lately come to my attention that my son is very much in need of the companionship, temperance, and governance that a wife must, to some unions, bring.’

    Mrs Thornaby paused.

    ‘Now, am I saying that my son is bereft of the faculties required in choosing or acquiring a wife? I am not. But one cannot but put more faith in one’s own family, especially a family so interconnected.’

    Effie bowed her head. ‘It would be in my best interests, indeed, to… govern Mr Thornaby—as a wife or no.’

    ‘But as a wife especially,’ Mrs Thornaby reiterated.

    Author Bio:

    Emily Lane writes sweet, clean Regency Romance perfect for fans of Georgette Heyer, Sophia Holloway, and Sophie Irwin. Hearth or Heart, her debut, launches July 13th. By day, Emily is a Management Consultant in the Lifesciences industry - she hopes her novels have just as much chemistry as her job! She lives in Thailand, which would be inconvenient but for the hot weather.

    The Bowman Girls is Emily's first Regency romance series, with 3 books currently planned:

    Hearth or Heart (out now)

    Past or Promise (Late 2026)

    Duty or Devotion (Late 2026)

    Website / Instagram / Facebook / Newsletter


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    Hearth or Heart Blitz


    Book Blitz ~ Reaper's Quest - Curse of the Royal Reaper by Debra A. Kristi

     

    Reaper’s Quest
    Debra A Kristi
    (Curse of the Royal Reaper, #1)
    Publication date: July 13th 2026
    Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance

    Two rival reapers. A century of overdue souls. Revelations sure to crumble foundations.

    Raven Gunn blamed herself and the cheat she used on her last job for her team’s assignment to the cursed reaping. Her father even packed the tool responsible for the cheat in her travel bag, silently suggesting the need, while reminding her not to trust her designated coreaper, Chace Badden. A hundred years of accumulated reapings, a prohibited reaper-tool, her born rival tasked as her partner… What could go wrong? She definitely wouldn’t allow Chace’s good looks to compromise her focus. Not. One. Bit.

    Chace Badden suspected family connections were to blame for his team’s assignment, and he trusted nothing about the current reaping task. Especially not the Fae bastard showering Raven with unnecessary attention. That pr*ck needed to go. Raven was his coreaper and the pretty boy held no claim. Of course, the same could be said for Chace given Raven was his coreaper and his rival, professionalism and distance needed to remain steady between them.

    But as more complications arise and old ones intensify, will Chace and Raven’s rivalry cloud emotions, hinder task success, and pave the road for, not only failure but, something far more concerning than mortal danger? Because the overwhelming number of unreaped souls is turning out to be the least of their worries.

    Reaper’s Quest is the first book in an adult romantasy series that grows spicier with each book, while containing dark themes that may be uncomfortable for some readers. This series is ideal for fans of:

    •Slow Burn & Tension (with plenty of action)

    •Angsty, Trapped, Morally Gray Hero

    •Forced Proximity

    •“Who did this to you?”

    •Multiple POV

    Goodreads / Amazon

    EXCERPT:

    Halfway across the rotunda, near the God of Death’s center statue, Chace Badden fell into step at my side, a confident swagger in his walk.

    “Reaper Gunn,” he said, his delivery a smooth tease I ignored.

    Even as my shoulders stiffened at the sight of him―black shirt, two unfastened buttons exposing a hint of skin, and pants snug against his body.

    I dipped my gaze below his belt, and a tight breath dragged through my lungs.

    Eyes up, Raven. Eyes up.

    He snagged my elbow―his touch gentle, casual, as if zero tension existed between us. “Spot something of interest?”

    I fought the desire to roll my eyes. Of course he’d shown up today with a megabat-sized chip on his shoulder. An ego, no doubt, inflated by his parents’ never-ending bolstering.

    Author Bio:

    Award winning and USA Today Bestselling Author Debra Kristi writes addicting young adult fantasy, urban fantasy, and paranormal adventures. Born and raised a Southern California girl, she still resides in the sunny state with her husband, two kids, and several rescue cats.

    Unlike many of the characters in the stories she writes, Debra is not immortal, and her only superpower is letting the dishes and laundry pile up. When not busy drumming away at the keyboard spinning new tales, Debra is hanging out creating priceless memories with her family, geeking out to science fiction and fantasy television, and tossing around movie quotes.

    Debra Kristi's books are published by Ghost Girl Publishing LLC.

    Visit www.DebraKristi.com for FREE books, new releases, and/or to become a member of the Insider's Club.

    Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Newsletter


    GIVEAWAY!

    eBook copy of Reaper’s Quest + an e-ARC of book 2 Blitz


    Book Blitz ~ Crater Girl - A Novel by Polly Schattel

     

    Crater Girl
    Polly Schattel
    Publication date: June 28th 2026
    Genres: Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, LGBTQ+

    Greta Tyler has issues. She’s broke, divorced, trans, recently defrocked from her Episcopal priesthood, and her underpaid assistant hates her. But hey, things could always be worse, right?

    As a social worker in a small, northern Alabama city, Greta’s just trying to do a little good in the world, and also come to terms with a complicated new life, a demanding new career, and the crushing finality that her marriage to her childhood sweetheart is over for good. But when her friend Suhey fails to show for a party, Greta suspects the worst: Suhey’s either been deported or kidnapped. Thus begins an increasingly surreal odyssey through the inscrutable byways and backroads of contemporary rural America.

    Tormented by self-doubt, and with a tendency to harm whatever she touches, Greta careens through a sinister underworld she never knew existed—billionaires and busboys, asteroids and assassins, human traffickers and misfit geniuses … and also an infernal plan to radically change the world.

    But first, how to come up with the rent?

    Crater Girl is Polly Schattel’s genre-jumping tale of gender politics, self-loathing, clandestine organizations, interstellar geology, thuggee death cults, and the search for personal redemption in the rusted over-sprawl of the meta-modern South.

    Goodreads / Amazon

    EXCERPT:

    “The first time I ever heard of the concept of the dead eye was in reference to a man I knew was troubled before I’d even reached my teens. Rick M. Scharpley, who his seventh grade homeroom class called Mr. Scharpley to his face but Prick Him Sharply behind his back, was a substitute who’d been brought in to take over after our regular history teacher had broken her back in a car accident. He’d taught us through the rest of that year, a mousy, chubby man with sensible hair, sensible glasses, and a perfectly sensible face. No one knew whether he had a wife or kids, or a family back home, and he seemed normal enough to his students, even funny sometimes, until you’d spent an afternoon or so with him. Then you’d start to notice how his eyes had grown soft and buggy and darkly fascinated with you, and how the little ironic twist of his smile rarely faltered. He knew his history, and he could sometimes make stuff like antebellum Alabama halfway interesting, but the various disparate parts of him commingled oddly, which pushed him almost into full-on creepazoid territory, and you found yourself wanting “to spend as little time in his presence as possible but unable to say exactly why. In class it wasn’t too bad; his cigarette prestidigitation and his day-drinker legerdemain made a decent distraction for the after-school detention crew. But we thought even then, even as kids, that beneath his southern gentleman’s surface, there flowed an underground reservoir rich with self-loathing, a vast subterranean sea of near-bottomless black pain.

    We knew this, the whole town knew this, because one sunny Sunday in that summer of 2006, Mr. Scharpley left a note magneted to the front of his refrigerator, a very personal kind of mini-manifesto within which he detailed all manners of abuses, self- and otherwise. Then he carried half a dozen syringes loaded with a potent pesticide called chlordecone into the local farmer’s market, and began injecting random crates of peaches with them. Eight people, most of them kids and old folks, had fallen into foamy-mouthed convulsions before he’d pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the frontage road.


    Author Bio:

    POLLY SCHATTEL lives in the mountains near Asheville, NC with her wife and three vicious and savage but very adorable animals.

    Website


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    Crater Girl Blitz


    Blurb Blitz - The Deadly Tea by Rachel Dacus

     



    This post is part of a virtual book organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rachel Dacus will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.



    Most sleuths don’t have the advantage of talking to the murder victim for clues, but Saffron has a window into the afterlife. The problem is, she's not a detective and has no wish to be.

    In the charming heart of London’s Notting Hill, Saffron juggles motherhood, running an animal welfare foundation, and counseling recently deceased spirits—the invisibles. But her peaceful routine is upended when a spirit insists she solve the mystery of his untimely death. Lucas Troy pops into her awareness claiming he was killed and demanding she figure out who did it. He wants justice before he'll agree to move on. But Saffron's role isn't to play detective, but to help each invisible plan for the next adventure in living. She asks Lucas if he suspects anyone in the circle at his aunt’s tea party where he died. He can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him, but he persuades Saffron to interview them all.

    She feels for Lucas, who had hardly begun his life, and she tries to persuade him that he can have a great future next lifetime, but finally she gives in and agrees to a little investigating. If she finds out something, perhaps he’ll agree to move forward. But the closer she gets to the possible killer, the more she’s in danger. Saffron has no wish to join Lucas in The Room Over There.

    Settle in to a cozy mystery with a touch of the supernatural, the heartwarming chaos of family, and the charm of London’s Notting Hill. "Interesting characters, intriguing mystery."


    Read an Excerpt

    It was glorious to dawdle around the bohemian and vintage shops on Portobello Road, and the addition of rare April sunshine in London made it seem to Saffron like her spa day. Not that she ever got to have those, as most mothers of young children didn’t. But today, browsing and shopping, she indulged herself in a glorious solitude amid the crowds. This busy street was her paradise, and she needed just a few more things for the children’s Easter outfits, but hoping not to find them too quickly.

    Traffic and people swirled around her, and she thrilled to the bright colors, food stalls, brushes of music wafting out of open doors. She would forever be a tourist in her adopted city of London. Notting Hill was so like her San Francisco Bay Area, but snootier. In many ways, more exciting.

    Peering into windows, she thought about the perfect bow tie she wanted for Percy’s suit, so her seven-year-old son didn’t look like a tiny banker. Four-year-old Freida could use a flower pin for her pinafore dress. Focusing on these ideas was such a pleasure. Saffron tried to wipe the smile off her face, remembering that Londoners did not walk around smiling, though Californians often did.

    A passerby jostled her, and as she stopped to check her bag, a low voice drifted down. “Hey! Anyone here?”

    Hella damn. An invisible. Another drifting spirit.

    “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m busy, as you can see. You can see me, right?”

    “I see a lot of hair. Curly. Are you some kind of animal?”

    Saffron huffed. “You’re looking at the top of my head. Come down lower, so you can see my face.”

    Some might call it being haunted, but Saffron called it helping invisibles. She wasn’t often contacted by newly dead people, but occasionally one popped into her vicinity. They always needed orientation and comfort after the trauma of dying.

    About the Author:



    Rachel Dacus is the author of eight novels and five poetry collections. Her fiction features love and relationships, exotic locations and intrepid heroines, and emotional journeys of self-discovery, all with a touch of the supernatural. Her poetry, stories, and essays have appeared widely in print and online literary journals and anthologies. She enjoys life in the beautiful San Francisco Bay Area, with its coast and trails where she walks her tiny but mighty Silky Terrier with her architect husband.

    Website: http://www.racheldacus.net/
    Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RachelDacusAuthor
    Twitter: https://twitter.com/Rachel_Dacus
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    Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Deadly-Tea-cozy-mystery-Invisibles-ebook/dp/B0GPT7ZLFW