Wednesday, October 1, 2025

Book Tour ~ The Patron Saint of Lost Girls - Stories by Maureen Aitken

 




Literary Fiction / Short Story Collection

Date Published: 09-16-2025

Publisher: Wayne State University Press



In 1970s and '80s Detroit, the city wrestles with an unending economic downturn, increasing violence, and white exodus to the suburbs. Amid all of this is twentysomething Mary who is just trying to grapple with her identity in a world filled with uncertainty.

In this collection of linked stories, we follow Mary as she seeks to cope with and withstand hardship and confront her fears of exploitation, abuse, and death. Along the way, she delves into the complex yet nurturing relationships with her family and friends who teach her to love better, live fuller, and question power. The Patron Saint of Lost Girls presents an unflinching tale of life in the late twentieth-century postindustrial Midwest.

 


About the Author


Maureen Aitken’s short-story collection, The Patron Saint of Lost Girls, received a Kirkus star, the Nilsen Prize, and the Foreword Review INDIE Gold Prize for General Fiction. It will be reissued in September, 2025 by Wayne State University Press. Her stories have earned a Minnesota State Arts Board’s Artist Initiative Grant, a Loft Mentor Award, an award from Ireland’s Fish Short Story Prize, and two Pushcart Prize nominations. It was also nominated for a Minnesota Book Award. Her stories have been published in Prairie Schooner and New Letters, among others. This is her second story featured in The Missouri Review’s Blast section.


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Book Tour ~ The Retirees by Leah Orr

 




Retirement has never felt so deadly


Cozy Mystery

Date Published: January 5, 2026

Publisher: Orrplace Press



Welcome to the idyllic yet eccentric retirement community of The Ocean’s Edge—where retirement has never felt so deadly.

Disco is dead, there’s a serial killer on the loose, the coffin dodgers are solving cold cases, and only the neighborhood cat knows where all the proverbial bodies are buried.

When sharp-tongued sugar heiress Diana is ousted from the empire she helped build, she retreats to a posh 55+ paradise expecting peace, maybe even a pool boy. Instead, she finds a ragtag group of retirees with a knack for solving cold cases—and a disturbing knack for attracting new ones. She quickly finds herself entangled with this quirky yet capable team of senior sleuths: a psychic, tarot-reading twin duo, a retired detective, a conspiracy-minded tech guru, and a nurse who might just talk to animals.

Among tarot cards, a talking cat, and dark web dives, this misfit crew uncovers more than just bingo night secrets. Because in a place this sunny, the shadows run deep, and someone at The Ocean’s Edge has blood on their hands.

As the group begins investigating cold cases, darker truths emerge, uncovering clues that tie back to mysterious pasts, hidden traumas, and residents with more secrets than memories.

Hilarious, heartwarming, and deliciously twisted, The Retirees is a witty, tightly woven, charming, cozy mystery that reminds us it’s never too late for redemption, reinvention, or revenge—and that sometimes the most unexpected heroes come with walkers, wisdom, and wildly colorful personalities.


Excerpt from The Retirees:

Prologue

Mr. Anderson

Disco is dead—not just musically or lyrically. Disco is actually dead. To be fair, disco did make a comeback for a time. Musicians and DJs enjoyed mixing seventies and eighties melodies with a hacked mash-up of manufactured noises, mumbo jumbo, or whatever they pawn off as music these days. They’d add vocals, edit with computer programs, and label it retro.

Disco is dead—literally. Centered in the clubhouse ceiling, a thirty-inch disco ball hangs delightfully, ready to dazzle all who enter as light dances across the round styrofoam spectacle. The tiny mirrored squares reflect light, creating shimmering art along the walls as the sun rises through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The elderly residents revere this flamboyant orb like the Romans revered Venus, the Goddess of Love, every first Saturday of the month. That’s when the disco dance shindig kicks off, but if you ask me, these coffin dodgers would dance until dawn beneath this stupid silver sphere every day that ends with the letter y if their bodies would allow.

A bloody butcher knife protrudes from the right side of the silvery globe as blood pools below. Blood flows slowly from the dead body beneath it, like a tiny river, toward the front entrance. Home builders in South Florida cut every corner to save a dollar, so you won’t find an establishment with level flooring south of Orlando. The body lies dead on the dance floor, eyes wide open, staring up toward the mirrored ball dangling from above. Even in death, the body continues to worship that giant glittery meatball.

I could captivate you with a story about how this all came to be. I’d love to share it with you. I’m always the first to stumble upon the deceased. I’d be eager to explain everything to the police in meticulous detail when they arrive. I’m perceptive, hypervigilant, and a perfectionist. I notice everything but say nothing. Like wallpaper or antique furniture, no one fully recognizes my charm, character, or priceless value. This group of mismatched septuagenarians pays little attention to me. They’re self-absorbed and enamored by boring, trifling bits of bygone eras. So I generally keep to myself. Occasionally, someone will offer a “Hello” or “How are you today?” It’s mostly small talk. Often, I don’t bother answering their questions. Most mornings, I hold my head high and concentrate on my morning routine, striding by and settling down by the window to watch the hummingbirds enjoy their breakfast nectar at the feeder. 

My name is Roger, but I’m known around here as Mr. Anderson. That’s what they call me, anyway.

To fully understand my story in the present, it’s essential to update you about my past. My mom gave me up when I was barely six weeks old, and an old man named Monty took me in and cared for me. I grew up feeling happy and loved. Recently, he passed away from what the police described as natural causes. I’m skeptical about that. Let’s put a pin in this for now. We’ll come back to it later.

More about me. I have a few friends—well, only one, actually. Her name is Carol, and she’s the nurse here at The Ocean’s Edge. Sometimes she sits beside me and shares stories about the cakes and pies she helped bake when her mom owned a pastry shop in Jensen Beach. I love her as much as I adore Key lime pie. The others tend to shy away from me when I pass by, ignoring me as though I have nothing important to offer. That’s simply not the case. I’m a good listener and a great companion. Heck, I was a brave sailor and navigator of the often treacherous Florida seas in my youth.

Nevertheless, I’ve lived here for nearly sixteen years, longer than most of these kooks. I’m much more than just a spectator; I’m a music enthusiast. I enjoy music that evokes emotions—love, heartbreak, or bliss. I’ve come to appreciate their fascination with Frank Sinatra and Cher; after all, they are legends. I genuinely believe in doing things “My Way,” and I believe there is “life after love.” However, some of the Motown funk that these folks enjoy feels too dated for me. I don’t understand why some old-timers remain so stuck in the past.

Taylor Swift is my favorite artist. I truly admire a self-made woman. She’s folksy, she’s pop, and she writes her own music. Her lyrics are relevant and resonate with the moment. She might even be more talented than—dare I say—Diana Ross or Donna Summer. For the record, I’m also a big fan of Michael Jackson’s musical talent. However, I can no longer idolize him—you know why.

Over time, I’ve come to recognize that people often return to the moments in their lives when they were happiest, and music from that era elicits all those significant primal feelings: joy, freedom, and happiness.

I’m the curious type, although I fully understand that curiosity kills. I’ve got countless secrets I could share. I know where all the proverbial bodies are buried. However, no one cares to listen, mainly because they’re too wrapped up in neighborhood tittle-tattle or their mysterious geriatric ailments that seem to multiply daily. Most likely, it’s because no one at The Ocean’s Edge can fully comprehend my language. And for the most part, I understand their apprehension. Why would any of these old geezers take the time to get to know me? I’m just a cat. 

About the Author


Leah Orr resides with her husband and three daughters in Jensen Beach, Florida. Leah is an Amazon #1 best-selling mystery novelist of The She Shed. She has written 14 books and sold over 100,000 copies worldwide.

Leah donates the profits from her books to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Upon learning that her daughter Ashley was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis (while still in the womb), Orr knew she wanted to do something special. With some input from her mother and three daughters, it was decided that she'd write books to benefit the CF Foundation. The Orr Family has raised over $1,400,000 in the past 22 years to help find a cure.

Leah's mission to help cure Cystic Fibrosis has been featured on ABC’s Health Watch, NBC Today South Florida, ABC Today South Florida, CBS South Florida, CBS This Morning Virginia, NBC The 10! Show Philadelphia, Fox 4 News Morning Blend, The Daily Buzz, and Lifetime TV’s The Balancing Act. She has also been featured in publications such as Forbes Magazine, Medical News Today, The Boston Globe, The Miami Herald, and The Sun-Sentinel. Her daughter Ashley was also a recipient of Oprah’s generosity in The Big Give.

Popular mysteries by Leah Orr include: The Executive Suite, The Bartender, The Champagne Toast, The She Shed, and The Fruitcake. Her popular children’s books include: Messy Tessy, It Wasn’t Me, and Goodnight, Molly.

Orr and her husband were recently nominated as one of Florida’s Finest Couples by the CF Foundation and included in “In The Spotlight” on CFF.org. Leah was also nominated as one of Broward County’s top 100 Outstanding Women. Orr grew up in Boston, MA, and graduated from the University of Miami.


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Preorder Blitz ~ Spellbound by Mychael Black

 

 


LGBTQ Romance, Vampires

Date Published: October 3, 2025

Publisher: Changeling Press



A ritual decades ago leads Beau to the one person he never expected to meet: his fated mate.

Detective Beau Kirkland has to work directly with the local vampire house to find a murderer, but that’s the easy part. The difficult part? His attraction to Garrett Dawson’s, one of House Saridan’s top hunters.

Garrett Dawson’s methods are brutal but very effective, even for a vampire. When a mortal detective begins working with House Saridan, Garrett finds himself unable to ignore the attraction between them.

 


EXCERPT

Garrett

There were few things I truly loved in this world, and one was currently in my hand as I took the elevator up to the fifteenth floor of Saridan Tower. No one else shared my addiction to the most amazingly sweet coffee concoction currently sending copious amounts of caffeine through my system. I stepped off the elevator on the top floor and headed down the hall to the usual conference room. I didn’t get any farther than the doorway, though. I simply froze, body alternating between hot and cold.

Normally, these meetings were just the three of us lead Venari and Deacon.

Not today, apparently.

Beau Kirkland looked up at me, eyes wide for a moment. No one said a word -- not even Deacon. Somehow, I got my feet to move and sat opposite the omega cop. It took more effort than I really had this morning to focus on work and not the stupidly hot human across from me.

I didn’t go for twinks like the others. I liked my men older, more experienced. Beau fit that requirement with ease. His short brown hair bore a little bit of gray here and there, and his dark chocolate-colored eyes studied me whenever I glanced at his face. He was a few inches shorter than my own six-three, and unlike most omegas, he was a bit muscular due to his job. Dressed in his dark navy uniform, he presented the most fucking delectable package on the planet. I cursed silently and tore my gaze from his when all blood began rushing south.

Deacon cleared his throat and looked at each of us. “I’m sure you all know one another, but for protocol’s sake, I’d like to introduce Officer Beau Kirkland. He’s our liaison within the police department. He’s also the one handling this latest case on their end. Officer Kirkland, these are my head Venari: Nikolai Hart, Victor Pace, and Garrett Dawson.”

Beau nodded. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

We exchanged the usual pleasantries before Deacon continued. “I’m stepping back for now,” he said, glancing at me briefly, “but I’m here if needed. To that end, the table’s yours, Officer Kirkland.”

“Thank you,” Beau said. He handed each of us several folders. “Eight victims so far, all completely drained. Eyewitnesses have seen the perp in passing, but no one can agree on a description.”

“Could be a Lupyn,” Vic said as he flipped through the contents of one of the folders.

“That was my assumption, but you all know far better than we do if that’s the case.”

I went through the first folder in front of me. Crime scene photos, pics of the victims post-mortem, notes, and statements. I scanned over everything and couldn’t disagree with the shapeshifter idea. It would make sense.

“What do you need from us?” Nik asked Beau. “We’re more than happy to work with you and your folks.”

I’m not sure I would’ve gone that far, but we did need to get this monster off the streets. I might not have been particularly nuts about humans, but that didn’t mean I wished them dead. My methods were saved for my own kind.

Beau passed out papers to us. “These are the last few places he was sighted. He’s a vampire, so we humans are outgunned here. We can help corner him, but capture is a different story altogether.”

Nik nodded. “Agreed. Well, we’re here and ready to go hunting.”

I didn’t miss the slight grimace on Beau’s face before he managed to school it into something more neutral. Apparently, neither did Deacon, but the man just remained silent.

“Thank you,” Beau said. “Please keep me updated on everything. In the meantime, I’ll be at the station downtown, trying to narrow our possible location leads.”

“Thank you for coming to us,” Deacon said. “I guarantee we will be in touch. These guys are my best hunters, and I have no doubt they’ll find this son of a bitch.”

Despite the situation, Beau smiled. “Thank you very much.”

The others left the room, though Beau shot me a cryptic look before stepping out the door. I stayed seated, knowing Deacon had something to say. Sure enough, as soon as we were alone, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

“Is this going to be an issue?”

I could’ve played dumb, but he already knew everything. There wasn’t any point. “No. I’m fully capable of working with him.”

Deacon raised one eyebrow. “Really? Because pheromones say otherwise.”

I managed to avoid scowling at him. Lupyns were more sensitive to things like that than Venari. “Unlike Nik, I’m perfectly capable of keeping my dick in my pants, Deacon.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He was far older than us, and being under his scrutiny made even me feel like a scolded kid sometimes. “Don’t let it get the best of you, Garrett. His job involves danger, and you can’t protect him from that unless you’re mated and bonded completely.”

“Who said I was --” I snapped my mouth shut at his glare.

“I’m old, not an idiot.” Deacon leaned forward and put his arms on the table. “Either fight this until the perp is in custody or fucking claim Beau. I can’t have you out there distracted. Understood?”

“Yes,” I replied, biting back a growl.

“Good. Dismissed.”

I stood abruptly, grabbed the folders and paper, and left the conference room. I made it halfway down the hall before Nik and Vic both cornered me. Fuck.

“That didn’t go well, did it?” Vic asked.

“No,” I snarled.

I continued walking, and they followed me to the elevator. I stabbed the DOWN button and had to unclench my fist before I gave into the urge to hit something. In the door’s reflection, I saw Nik and Vic exchange cautious glances.

We all stepped into the elevator and took it to the lobby. Without another word said, it was a given where we’d wind up. Colby’s was the city’s best diner with the most amazing coffee blends. Maybe the combination of carbs, sugar, and caffeine would calm me down because just the thought of claiming Beau sure as fuck wasn’t doing it.

Quite the opposite, actually.

I was hard as a fucking rock.

 


About the Author

Mychael Black has been writing professionally since 2005. He writes gay romance and erotica, but also het romance as Carys Seraphine and queer fantasy as Katherine Cook.

He's an avid PC gamer with a love for RPGs, a horror fanatic, and a fantasy nut. He also has a weakness for anything relating to skulls, dogs, and Spongebob Squarepants.

Mychael lives on the Eastern Shore of the US with his family. He loves to hear from readers, be it via email or Facebook.



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Release Blitz ~ Love, Camera, Action by Sarah Hawthorn

 




Romantic Comedy
Date Published: 10-01-2025
Publisher: Literary Wanderlust


In the quaint Australian country town of Warbol, a faded B-grade actress, Faith Farmer, dares to dream again. With a heart full of passion and a pocketful of savings, she revives the local cinema, The Rex, and invites the community to fall in love with the Golden Age of Hollywood.


As the silver screen flickers to life, the townspeople find themselves swept up in a world of romance, drama, and laughter. Jock, a handsome country vet, finds the courage to leave his unhappy marriage and pursue his heart's desire. Charlotte, a former nun, discovers a new sense of purpose and love. And Faith, well, she finds a second chance at stardom–and love–in the unlikeliest of ways.


Join Faith and the lovable residents of Warbol as they laugh, cry, and fall in love. With its colorful cast of characters, charming small-town setting, and a healthy dose of old-school Hollywood glamor, this delightful romantic comedy will capture your heart and leave you smiling long after the credits roll.


About the Author



Before taking up fiction writing as a full-time career, Sarah worked as an actress, journalist, newspaper columnist, magazine editor and publicist. She headed her own Sydney PR company for fifteen years.
Love. Camera. Action is her third published novel. 


The Dilemma (Bloodhound Books UK, August 2022) garnered five-star reader reviews and reached #1 in WW1 fiction on Amazon USA and #2 in both British Historical Fiction and Historical Mystery on Amazon UK. It was shortlisted for the Grindstone International Novel Prize.


Her debut novel, A Voice In The Night – a twisty psychological thriller – set in New York, London and Sydney was published in July 2021 (Transit Lounge). It has been optioned for film.
She was nominated by Books+Publising in 2021 as one of Australia’s most promising new authors.

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