Book Tour ~ Elegance and Evil - A Cleo Cooper Mystery by DK Coutant

 

ELEGANCE AND EVIL

by DK Coutant

June 2 - 27, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A Cleo Cooper Mystery

 

Cleo Cooper left ocean-dipping weekends as a psychology professor in Hawaii to sample life in the high desert of Santa Fe for her sabbatical. With her romantic relationship on the rocks in Hawaii, Cleo falls for Luc, a charming international expert in her field and is tempted to make the change permanent. She enjoys the people, the work, and the sparkling conversations, even if they come with a bite. But, when a wealthy backer of her project is killed, the snarky scientists, artists, and a Saudi ex-pat, who Cleo thought were her new friends, are now at the top of the suspect list. And with a killer on the loose, Cleo finds her life, and her love, in danger.

Praise for Elegance and Evil:

"DK Coutant’s ELEGANCE AND EVIL is a tightly written, fast-paced read that plunges us into the backdrop of a Santa Fe community, so beautifully described, it becomes one of the characters. Celo Cooper is a smart and savvy amateur sleuth who reads people as thoroughly as the research papers she reviews in her world of academia, making her an A-plus crime solver. A cast of quirky characters adds to the book’s charm and had me wondering who to trust until the surprise ending. A big thumbs up!"
~ Cindy Goyette, PSWA award winner and LEFTY finalist author of OBEY ALL LAWS and EARLY TERMINATION of the Probation Case Files Mystery Series.

"Elegance and Evil is crisp, engaging, and subtly atmospheric, blending elements of classic mystery with a modern, conversational tone. DK Coutant crafts a narrative that is both immersive and accessible, using a first-person perspective to draw readers into Cleo’s thoughts and observations."
~ Morgan Hatch, author of Gone To Ground

"Readers will enjoy the balance between a spicy romance and cunning mystery in Elegance and Evil by DK Coutant."
~ Joy Ann Ribar, author of The Bay Browning Mysteries and Deep Lakes Cozy Mysteries

"Cleo Cooper is a fascinating character in this taut, twisty mystery that will delight readers. Hopefully, author DK Coutant brings her back very soon."
~ R.G. Belsky, author of the Clare Carlson mystery series

"When psychologist Cleo Cooper takes a temporary assignment in Santa Fe, volcanic eruptions threaten her Hawaiian home, and her relationship with her boyfriend in Hawaii falls apart. A new love interest emerges, and Cleo soon finds herself at the center of a murder investigation that could change everything. Set against the enchanting backdrop of Santa Fe and filled with quirky, intelligent characters, Elegance and Evil is an entertaining blend of mystery, romance, and suspense."
~ Stacy Wilder, author of the Liz Adams Mystery series

Book Details:

Genre: Traditional Mystery, Amateur Sleuth
Published by: The Wild Rose Press
Publication Date: June 4, 2025
Number of Pages: 288
ISBN: 978-1-5092-6136-9
Series: Cleo Cooper Mysteries, Book 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | The Wild Rose Press

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

New in Town

“Are you ready for this, Cleo?” Luc asked.

“Sure.” Beginnings were intimidating. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Luc pulled into the driveway of a traditional adobe house, typical of what I had seen here in Santa Fe, NM. A stocky man of medium-height, with hair pulled back in a small man-bun exited and locked the front door.

“Jon can be a bit insufferable sometimes, but his heart is usually in the right place,” Luc said. Jon was one of Luc’s closest friends, and a scientist who worked at a federal lab nearby. Luc was giving him a ride to the dinner party we were attending.

Jon swung open the back door of Luc’s car. “This should be fun,” he said sliding into the backseat.

I turned and smiled at him from the front passenger seat. “Hi Jon, it’s nice to meet you. Luc has told me a lot about you. I’m Cleo—”

“Cleo Cooper, I know. I’ve heard about you too. Anyway. Luc, did you get my email about the new grant I was awarded?” And Jon rattled on about the mega-grant he’d received for his latest research project.

Oka-a-a-a-y.

Luc pulled away from the curb.

“This grant will cement my spot at the top of the food chain at the lab. The Defense Department is really interested in my ideas on further miniaturization of key components,” Jon said.

“That sounds interesting. What kind of components? And how small do you think you can shrink them?” I asked.

Jon’s gaze shifted to me. “You’re just a psychologist, right?”

“Yes.” But I suspected where this was going.

“Were your parents scientists?”

“No.” My parents ran a diner.

“Then it is a waste of my time to try and explain atomic physics to you. Luc’s parents at least taught him enough over the dinner table that he can understand the basics of my research. But a psych professor from a small university in the middle of nowhere—”

“Hey.” Luc interrupted. “Cleo is a scientist, a social scientist. And she has conducted some solid studies. And I’m a psychologist too. So no looking down your nose at us because we don’t get defense department grants. And, if you’re going to bring up my parents… they claim that any good scientists should be able to explain their work to someone outside the field.”

“And my university isn’t in the middle of nowhere. It’s in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, a gateway between East and West.” I was on sabbatical from my university on the Big Island of Hawaii, and I wasn’t going to let anybody talk smack about my island. Maybe coming to Santa Fe, NM to work with Luc for six months wasn’t such a great idea.

Jon sighed. “Whatever. I think I’d rather wait until we get to the party to explain my grant so I can see the look on Matias’s face when he realizes I’ll have the largest grant at the lab. He won’t be able to get rid of me now. And he’ll have to take me seriously.”

We reached downtown Santa Fe and Luc pulled into a parking garage. Butterflies took flight in my stomach. I was usually comfortable in new situations. But Jon’s obnoxious condescension had me feeling jittery. On our short ride from Jon’s house to the garage, his bombastic wit had overwhelmed me.

I’d left a secure, comfortable career as a psychology professor, and a secure, mostly uncomfortable boyfriend, to create a new life. I arrived a week ago, and this dinner party would be my first opportunity to meet people. A lot of movers and shakers were expected, including Luc. I contemplated the man strolling beside me, his striking bone structure and tousled black hair. He was influential in town, and his Institute for the Study of International Relations lined up perfectly with my research.

Luc, Jon, and I traversed a crooked sidewalk that undulated over roots of old Siberian elms. My butterflies flittered again, and I hoped the walk from the parking garage to our hostess’s home on the other side of the Plaza would rein in my nerves. I glanced at Luc. He’d invited me here to work on his project during my sabbatical. I wanted to keep the relationship professional, but his dark, smoldering eyes, broad shoulders, and kindness made my heart beat faster.

Luc must have noticed. “We’re almost there Cleo, not much farther.”

Luc and Jon would know everyone at the party. Again with those damn butterflies. Luc smiled at me as we approached a crosswalk. Jon stepped off the curb ahead of us as a dark grey Lexus turned on to the street we were crossing and sped up.

“Watch out!” I grabbed Luc’s arm to hold him back from the crosswalk. I winced, expecting the car to hit Jon who was already in the street but managed to maneuver out of the car’s path.

“What the… that driver only missed you by inches.” My hands shook from the adrenaline surge. The Lexus ran through a red light as it raced away. “Is someone out to get you, Jon?” I bit my lip as my heart thumped and my mind caught up with the fact I’d almost witnessed someone’s death.

“Maybe.” Jon grinned. The 40-ish nuclear physicist bounded forward to the other sidewalk. His legs bounced with a child-like spring. As he stepped out of the street he threw his head back and let loose a loud “Ha.”

“I guess a brush with death has made him a little giddy,” I said.

“Either that or Jon has been taste-testing his marijuana cookie recipe again.” We took the last steps out of the road. “It was probably somebody texting while driving. You should have looked before you stepped into the crosswalk, Jon,” Luc said. “But, if Cleo’s right, and that driver was trying to run you down, the tough call is narrowing who does not want to knock you off.”

I took a deep breath to steady myself. “How can you guys joke? It scared me to death and I’m not the one who almost died.”

“Who’s joking?” Jon asked with a laugh. But his laugh wobbled. He blinked rapidly. “Luc’s probably right. It was somebody texting, or drinking. But both Matias and Kyle hate my guts, could be either one of them. What do you think, Luc?”

“A tough call. You annoy so many people.” Luc smiled fondly.

We resumed ambling down the sidewalk. The shaking in my hands subsided. I glanced up the street, but the Lexus didn’t reappear. Maybe it was my imagination and the car didn’t aim for Jon.

“Is Kyle still living with Ginger?” Luc asked.

“Surprisingly, yes. I thought she would have tossed him out by now. He’ll be there tonight, as well as Matias, to hear my big grant news. Jon’s grin returned. “This should be fun.”

Luc let out a low whistle, nudging me gently with his elbow. “Better keep your head down, Cleo. Sparks could fly.”

Great. I had hoped to meet some nice people and make some connections, so I wouldn’t depend on Luc to get acclimated. Is everybody going to be at each other’s throats?

“Here we are.” Luc touched my elbow gently with his right hand while extending his left to open a wooden gate elaborately carved with a detailed mural of a Mexican village.

I looked beyond to the creamy pumpkin-colored pueblo structure. Old wood broke the adobe into sizable chunks, so while the house was large, it didn’t devour a guest. Well-trained roses and wisteria wound up far above my head around high frames of mesquite wood which offered sweet-smelling shade. The front door was constructed from some exotic wood, with dramatic zebra stripes punctuated by a natural sunburst pattern in the grain. Bespoke, oversized windows appeared to curve with the walls. I’d never been in a house of such obvious wealth. My confidence faltered.

I looked at my companions.

“You first, my dear.” Jon bowed with a dramatic flourish. “I want someone to hide behind if people start throwing things.”

***

Excerpt from Elegance and Evil by DK Coutant. Copyright 2025 by DK Coutant. Reproduced with permission from DK Coutant. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

DK Coutant graduated from Davidson College with a Psychology degree and initially applied her behavioral training to animals at Sea World, working with dolphins and whales. After a couple of years, she realized that scrubbing fish buckets might get old, and went back to Graduate school to earn a Ph.D. in Psychology, specializing in Cross-Cultural Issues. She began her academic career in Maine. A few years later, she made the jump to Hawaii and worked at the University of Hawaii at Hilo, rising to Department Chair of the Psychology Department. After many happy years in Hawaii, her love for travel led her to make the move out of academics. She accepted positions as a professional geopolitical forecaster with GJ Inc. and Rand Forecasting Initiative. She splits her time between Olympia, WA, Santa Fe, NM, and France, with her husband and an Old English Sheepdog, Beasley. Evil Alice and Borzoi was released by the Wild Rose Press in 2023. Elegance and Evil is the second in the Cleo Cooper Mysteries.

Catch Up With DK Coutant:

www.DKCoutant.com
Amazon Author Profile
lor.sh - @dkcoutant
BookBub - @dkcoutant
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Facebook - DK Coutant

 

 

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Book Tour ~ By Hook or By Book - The Charmed Inn Mysteries by Misty Simon

 

BY HOOK OR BY BOOK

by Misty Simon

June 2-27, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Charmed Inn Mysteries

 

Roxy Gleason, an innkeeper by trade and a bibliomancer by birth, has lived in the same small town on the Susquehanna River in Central Pennsylvania for her entire life. Tradition is strong here. Roxy understands the rules and is willing to play by them most of the time. She runs the Charmed Inn, which has been in her family for decades.

The inn is all set to host a writers’ professional business weekend that’s been planned down to the very last hand-folded napkin, and Roxy is ready for the influx of creatives. She knows she’ll have a lot of different and sometimes unusual personalities to deal with, but this is a yearly function, so she’s not expecting anything to go awry.

Her expectations are completely tanked when she finds a dead body on her daily walk by the river’s shore. Owen Schultz had checked in for the conference a few hours ago, and she’d last seen him having tea with her aunt in the dining room.

How did he get down here on the ferry, and who killed him?

Fans of Lucy Score, Melissa F. Miller, Dianne Harman, Lynn Cahoon, Deany Ray, Kathi Daley, and Merryn Allingham will enjoy Misty Simon.

Book Details:

Genre: Rom Cozy (Paranormal Cozy mystery with Romantic elements)
Published by: Rowan Prose Publishing
Publication Date: June 3, 2025
Number of Pages: 300
ASIN: B0D98KM21B
Series: The Charmed Inn Mysteries, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookBub | Goodreads

Books 2 & 3 of The Charmed Inn Mysteries are due out later this year:

Learn More: Amazon & Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

They called him Cheezy Rider—and with good cause.

I stood at the wide front window of the Charmed Inn with a cup of coffee in hand. I watched my great uncle toddling around the corner onto Chestnut Street, pedaling steadily on his old Beach Comber. The picture he made was something to behold. His bright orange vest perfectly matched the small caution flag waving from a tall pole attached to the back of the bike. His silver bullet helmet matched his thinning silver hair peeking out from underneath. But nothing matched his teal and red-flowered Hawaiian shirt.

His legs, covered in khakis, pumped away as he came up the block waving to anyone who happened to be on the short street in our small town on the shore of the Susquehanna River. The bicycle had a big wire basket on the front that he filled with a box of donuts from Delilah’s Donuts every day, a place that had been in the same family for seventy-five years, like so many other businesses here. Those donuts were heading right for my work and then right to my hips. But I had never said no to pastry, and I wasn’t going to start today. In fact, I needed the pick-me-up. Things were busy at the inn, with everyone checking in for the writers’ extended working weekend, and sugar was always welcome. The staff wouldn’t say no, either.

“I’m going to take a break,” I said to my Aunt Hellen as I passed her in the hallway leading to the dining room. She was technically my great aunt, and she could keep things moving for a few minutes while I stepped out into the beautiful April afternoon sunshine. What I really wanted to say was that I was trying not to break, but that wouldn’t be good for business. It had been one heck of a morning already, and I needed a moment to collect myself in the downtime before the festivities really began. Donuts were a great distraction, even if my erstwhile uncle did bring them every day.

“All righty, Ms. Mighty!” Aunt Hellen yelled back. This highly respected tasseomancer and seance-leader had a set of lungs that should never be allowed near a microphone. “I just finished having tea with Owen, so I’m free if you want to go on your walk, too. His phone rang in the middle of our tea, and it must have been important because he hightailed it out the door after making an excuse.” She situated herself behind the desk and placed her hands on the computer screen like it might fly away if she didn’t keep it locked down. “Hey, one thing before you go.”

I held steady, waiting for the inevitable question. My life seemed to be filled with questions.

“What kind of afternoon do you think we’re going to have? Should I restock the printer?”

Showing my teeth in what should have been a smile, I flipped open the book I held in my other hand, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all. Why, oh why, did I have to have this particular book with me? And why was my aunt always trying to force me to use my “gift”? I had no real power to do anything, just predict the future or get guidance from the text. Sometimes it was right, sometimes not. Either way, it was not high-powered magic in the least.

While poking my finger at the text, I said, “No need to stock the printer, but be prepared to deal with many irritations.” There’s nothing like trying to give a vague answer to a mundane question when the page you opened to was a spicy-hot scene between the hero and heroine in a recently released romance novel.

“I could have told you that. You have to try harder if you want to own your power, Roxanne Gleason. This is not a game.” Peering at me over her bifocals, she twitched the classic “Mom finger” in my general direction and then tsked.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but only because I knew it wouldn’t do me any good. It would probably get me a lecture, and I didn’t have time for that today. Plus, those donuts were calling my name.

“Yes, Aunt Hellen. Sorry, Aunt Hellen.”

“Cheeky,” she said under her breath, but I still heard it and smiled.

“Is Owen’s nephew here yet?”

“No, Owen said he had to back out at the last minute, so we have a free room if we need it.”

I sighed because as much as I liked Andrew, that was one less eccentric I’d have to deal with. Owen was a character all on his own, but he knew when to rein it in, Andrew not so much. Plus, his room would still get paid for even if he wasn’t going to use it.

“Okay, thanks for letting me know. Keep an eye out for Paddy McGruver,” I said. “He hasn’t checked in yet, and sometimes he likes to come in the back door to avoid what he assumes are the paparazzi.”

“Oh my, Paddy’s coming in today? Will he be here all four days?” Aunt Hellen smoothed down the front of her shirt over what she jokingly called her shelf since it pretty much caught any crumbs she dropped while eating. She then pulled her peach cardigan closed over her stomach.

“Yes, and yes. Try to keep your hands to yourself this time. You read tea leaves, not rumps. No one is falling for that I’m-a-rumpologist-bit, no matter how hard you try to sell it.”

With that, I walked out the door and left her to primp and prime herself for one of the more problematic creatives who was going to be here for four whole days. Well, not quite four, since it was more like seventy-two total hours from check-in to check-out. But who was counting?

With ten of the writers showcasing their intelligence and posturing over who had the best book and which classes were not to be missed, it would be enough time for me to need a vacation afterward.

The hotel hosted this event every year, but this was my first as the owner of this fine establishment. I had been told to give myself the seven days following the event to only host boring people, so I could rest, relax, and restore my faith in down-to-earth people. I had taken the advice since it had come from the previous owner, my grandfather. We would have guests checking in on Sunday after everyone left, but there wouldn’t be a pen and paper or laptop in sight as far as the guest list went. I had made sure of it.

Uncle Vince was racking his bike at the side of the building and removing his helmet when I stepped out onto the wide veranda that encircled the inn. I looked forward to his visits and had for all the years he’d been in my life. I wasn’t sure exactly how far away on my dad’s family tree he was, just that he was there and always had been.

He was like a beacon in the middle of the day, everyone stopping as they strolled along the sidewalks to say hi and ask about his health. It kept him busy until I could reach him, which worked in my favor. As long as he didn’t give away any of my donuts.

“I see you got two boxes this time,” I said as I approached the old man in his loud get-up.

“Roxy, my love, my dove, how are we on this fine afternoon?” His smile was far cheekier than anything I had ever sported, and I immediately wondered what he was up to. It was almost never good. Or rather, it usually was good for someone but almost never good for me.

“What are you hiding?”

He slapped his hand to his chest and feigned hurt. “I would never -”

“You do. Always,” I shot back, but a smile was trying to come out on my lips that I did not want to give in to. If I indulged him, he always had to see exactly how far he could take it.

“I’m offended.”

“Only because I’m catching you before you can even begin. Hand over the donuts, and I might be able to see my way to just watching for any missteps instead of thwarting you before you even get started.”

At first, he looked defeated, but I knew for a fact that was a lie. He’d just figure out a different way to get around me. It was a game he liked to play, and since he was an uncle and someone who had watched over me since I was a toddler, I knew, and so did he, that I had a weak spot for him and his antics. As long as they didn’t hurt anyone.

Sure enough, that smile popped back out on his face. As I knew it would.

“I saw you in my scrying bowl this morning.”

Ack, that was the last thing I wanted him to say. I would have preferred almost anything else, even the practical jokes he sometimes liked to indulge in. He wasn’t very good at them, but I laughed, even if it was just a big fake spider on my porch. His visions were some of my biggest fears, though. Or it might be better to say his visions had brought about many of my stumbles in life.

***

Excerpt from By Hook or By Book by Misty Simon. Copyright 2025 by Misty Simon. Reproduced with permission from Misty Simon. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Misty Simon always wanted to be a storyteller…preferably behind a Muppet. Animal was number one, followed closely by Sherlock Hemlock… Since that dream didn’t come true, she began writing stories to share her world with readers, one laugh at a time.

Touching people’s hearts and funny bones are two of her favorite things, and she hopes everyone at least snickers in the right places when reading her books. She lives with her husband in Central Pennsylvania where she is hard at work on her next novel or three. She loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at misty@mistysimon.com.

Catch Up With Misty Simon:

MistySimon.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @MistySimon
Instagram - @mistysimonwrites
Threads - @mistysimonwrites
Facebook - @misty.simon.18

 

 

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Book Blitz ~ The 21-Day Boyfriend by A. S. Kelly

 

The 21-Day Boyfriend
A.S. Kelly
Publication date: May 21 2025 (Audiobook)
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance

Eric O’Shea needs to make a decision. The annual event his family forces him to attend is just around the corner, and he doesn’t have a date.

Eric never needs help when it comes to finding men. But this time is different – his ex and his new boyfriend will be there, and Eric can’t just bring along one of his usual flings.

His only hope seems to be him: the best friend of his best friend, who he never wanted to meet.

Sean Quinn is a calm, collected, and cultured man; someone who would rather stay at home and read a book than waste his time chasing a date with no future.

Sean isn’t in a rush to find the perfect man, and he certainly doesn’t intend to go out with Eric: his best friend’s other best friend, who he’s avoided meeting for years.

But Sean has a flaw: he can’t say no to anyone, especially not when it comes to his friend Jake, who has a habit of worming his way into other people’s lives.

But it’s just one date, after all: pure fiction. It’s a shame, then, that when Eric needs Sean for another favour, he can’t turn his back. It’s a shame that just when Sean is beginning to understand that Eric isn’t what he seems, he can’t seem to stop before he gets hurt.

Twenty-one days: that’s the agreement.
Twenty-one days of grazing hands, furtive glances, and unexpected kisses.
Twenty-one days where anything goes; except falling in love.

Goodreads / Amazon / Audible / Apple / Kobo / Google Play

—

AUDIO TEASER:

Author Bio:

A. S. Kelly writes Rom-Com, Romantic Fiction and Family Saga.
Avid reader, hopeless romantic, lover of yoga, knitting and home baking.
She was born in Italy but lives in Ireland with her husband, two children and a cat named Oscar.

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Book Blitz ~ Parentship in Families as Teams by Steliana Van de Rijt-Economu

 

 

Nonfiction

Date Published: May 15, 2025

Publisher: Mindstir Media

Being a parent is the most important, demanding and fulfi lling role you will ever have in your life, but for most of us, it is a new role for which you have had no training. The family team is the primary classroom for life, and for it to be a true learning team, the parents have to also be learning from each other and from their children. This book reminds us that the family is the place where we learn our emotional, relational and collaborative skills, that are so essential for a happy, successful and fulfi lled life.The author reveals how to show mutual caring, how to handle confl ict, how to love, celebrate and grieve together within the most important team of our lives, and she does it with humility and respect.

"Steliana van de Rijt-Economu has written a beautiful book that should be on everyone's bookshelf, computer, or tablet-for we are all part of families. She presents many practical ways for a family to be more than the sum of its parts. Central to this is the shift from each family member asking, 'What do I want or need from my family?' to asking, 'What does the family need from each of us?'"

 

 

About the Author

Steliana van de Rijt-Economu (1979-) grew up in a small town near the Black Sea. After graduation she pursued an international career as leadership consultant and team coach and traveled the world, from The Hague, Calgary, Damascus, Kuala Lumpur Lagos and Houston. She found inspiration for her writing through her travels and courses. A passionate advocate for women's empowerment, Steliana earned international recognition for her first book, Mothers as Leaders (2019). Renowned in the field of systemic team coaching, she has served as a guest lecturer and team coach at Rice Jones Business School in Houston and Erasmus University in Rotterdam. Together with her husband, she has lived in England, The Netherlands, and the USA, raising a young family while navigating the challenges and rewards of building a family-team alongside two demanding careers.

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www.mothersasleaders.com

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Book Tour ~ The Life and Legacy of Rabbi Aryeh by Amrom Gottesman

 

Holocaust Biography

Date Published: December 10, 2024

Publisher: ‎Book Publishers USA

 

This narrative gives us a detailed chronicle of the turbulent life of Rebbe Aryeh Leibish Gottesman Zt”l. Beginning from his childhood years, with the next chapters bringing alive the years of pain he endured in the most horrendous period of the holocaust. Following the highly interesting period detailing his formative years in America, that gives us a glimpse of the post-trauma that a war survivor lived with. His scars and pain and loss that accompanied him for the next seventy years

When he was still but a child and a young bochur, little Leibish fought ferociously against life’s odds to learn Torah in times that antisemitism was common in the little town in Czech where he lived. After suffering all the horrors of Auschwitz, Dachau, and more, when he lost both his parents and family, except for one surviving brother. R’ Leibish threw upon himself again with happiness and fortitude to accept the yoke of learning Torah. First in the city of Serdaheli and then in the famed Nitra Yeshiva in America, where he became one of the most notable and close students of the renowned Torah giant and distinguished war activist Hagaon Hatzaddik Rebbe Michoel Ber Weissmandel ZT”L. He stood out in the front line of Talmudei Chachomim of the first generation after the war.

The next step in life was when with his diligence and persistence he grew to be a major Gaon that illuminated the path for many many students and breathed a life of Torah up to his final moment.

A quote from father's mother Sura when they were rounded up for Auschwitz.

Another point is that it is an important factor in this story. In Hungary, a suitable title would be added before everyone’s name. Our grandmother was Known as “the Shochetneni” (resembling her husband’s vocation).

Having these two points in mind, we can conjure the picture of our grandmother being forced to the train station with her family. She was on her own, without her husband, who had brutally been taken away. Suddenly, the family maid ran up to her, shouting: “Shochetneni, you have such beautiful daughters. It is a shame that they should be killed. Please leave them behind, and I will raise them…”. It was a moment’s decision, but our grandmother answered firmly: “Hashem gave me these children. If I cannot raise them as he would want me to, I am willingly giving them back to Hashem!” 

About the Author

My name is Emil Gottesman and I am 67 years old, married and blessed with a family of children and grandchildren. Owner of a medium size US Customs House Broker and Freight Forwarder company. In my community, I'm known by my Hebrew name Amrom Gottesman.

Born to my Parents R’ Leibish and Rickel Gottesman, both Holocaust survivors, raised and still live my life, with strong values of family, religion, and faith

 

Purchase Link

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Book Tour ~ Becoming One with Christ by David Richards

 

The Lessons of King David

 

Religion / Spirituality

Date Published: ‎ March 10, 2025

Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

 

A lifetime journey. A test of faith. A calling to a deeper love. This is more than a book; it's a heartfelt testament to resilience, devotion, and discovering love's true meaning through the eyes of King David.

In Becoming One with Christ, I share my journey--a lifetime of seeking spiritual depth and strength, which was put to the ultimate test during the pandemic. During that turbulent time, I encountered profound revelations through David's trials, triumphs, and unwavering faith. Now I want to share these lessons with you in hopes they will inspire and embolden your own walk of faith.

INTRODUCTION:

 

COURAGE TO APPROACH THE THRONE

“Instead, they will serve the Lord their God and David their king, whom I will raise up for

them.” [Jeremiah 30:9]

 

Is the ultimate path to comprehending everlasting life and eternal consciousness accepting Jesus as both God and Son? Are the two elements Jesus identifies himself by, the Alpha and the Omega, the foundation for understanding the Messiah?

The scale and scope of what you’re going to read in the pages that follows is remarkable; you are about embark on a journey that begins in the pages of the Bible and ends in the 21st Century.

I first learned of the idea that King David would be resurrected while doing research for my third book. I had the title for the book, but something was missing.

The initial idea for the book had been born in late 2019, before the pandemic started making headlines around the world. The first weekend in April 2020, with the world in full lockdown mode, I was blessed with the most magnificent moment of inspiration, a moment I’d been searching for my entire life. My quest to find this single moment in time had led me to navigate my life by the most precarious of instruments, fraught with the accompanying collisions against the treacherous rocks of divorce and job loss, and all their financial implications. I’d lost friends and hurt those closest to me. I had carved a most bewildering path that had taken me into what many might consider midlife with virtually nothing to show for it.

That the realization and recognition of this moment coincided with a fantastic series of events during a pandemic brought forth from me a joy unlike anything I’d ever felt. With more than four years’ hindsight, I now appreciate that single moment in time was the encapsulation of my deliverance.

This inspiration led to evolving the book’s initial idea, which had been something of an abstraction, giving it substance, texture, and emotional direction. As life shifted from the frenzy of pre-pandemic productivity into masks, hand sanitizer, and shortages of toilet paper, I was facing an interestingly timed existential crisis.

I had very real doubts about the story of Jesus.

At the same time, in the first few months of the pandemic, I had been the recipient of the most incredible signs that a greater power was at work in the world. As a writer and creative thinker, I could see the framework of Divine orchestration and relished in its recognition. With this recognition came a kind of intoxicating desire; I wanted control.

These two competing forces – my doubt about the existence of the Messiah and my perception of Divine influence on a global scale - collided against my psyche with all the force of two rams butting heads. The impact on my writing was highly consequential.

Early in June 2020, I was overcome by a profound writer’s block while trying to work on the manuscript. The direction of the book had shifted from a personal development theme to one where I was attempting to shrink history in a way that had never been attempted. The act of writing caused me palpable anxiety; my heart would race, my stomach would twist in knots, and I would be swarmed by invisible, unidentified fears. While it might be easy to chalk this up to the psychological effects of dealing with the pandemic, I quickly discerned; my faith was being tested on a scale that bordered the incomprehensible.

I knew the act of writing was still critically important to me, but repeated approaches to the manuscript and the resulting panic that ensued had convinced me that I needed to direct my focus inward. I took up the habit of journaling.

Writers write. That had been the guidance given to me in college by one of my English professors at Penn State. While it seemed obvious, I largely avoided implementing this axiom in college and abandoned it altogether while in the Marines. Something about the idea of developing a relationship with my Self through the act of writing felt foreign to me. Additionally, I hated my handwriting; as a lefty, I often smudged and regarded my penmanship as stilted and unflattering. Only by fits and starts did I manage to piece together my first book, Whiskey and Yoga, and was diligent enough in my research that I managed to write a reasonably good story without journaling for my second book, The Lighthouse Keeper.

I have since come to appreciate the power of journaling; it is a sharpening of the mind’s eye. The greater our understanding of our internal composition and direction, the better equipped we are in expressing who we are and what we believe. The resulting sense of self-confidence and enlightenment leads us to a greater understanding of the spiritual dimension of the human experience. It is through our ability to express explicitly what we understand implicitly that such enlightenment takes place. I have come to regard journaling as the sculpting of the soul.

Unable to honor the inspiration I’d seen in April with the appropriate words, I set the manuscript aside.

I journaled about my experience of the pandemic. I journaled on trying to make sense of the catalog of events in the Spring of 2020 that led me to create a causal relationship between the pandemic and my spiritual awakening, without fully comprehending the significance or implications of doing so. I wrote about the inspiration I’d seen, hoping to come up with a title for the book. While I’ve heard some authors title their works after completion, I have found that, by identifying the title of the book up front, I produce the book’s first outline. Between April of 2020 and November 2021, I journaled more than a thousand pages.

Some titles lasted a few days, maybe even a week. Others, just a few minutes.

With the abundance of time I had to myself, I read voraciously. I read passages from the Bible. I read books on Roman history and Christianity. I read on quantum physics and psychology. All this to wrap my mind around the nature of what I wanted to write. Finally, after more than twenty months, I had the title.

The moment I said the title out loud, I knew I had it. It was a culmination of the days and weeks of soul searching that had stretched into months, flirting with years. I finished the first draft on New Year’s Day, 2022. Sometime in mid-January or early February, I would add the subtitle for what eventually became my third book, Love Letters to the Virgin Mary: The Resurrection of King David.

This book is going to ask and answer questions you have likely never considered, questions like, what exactly is the relationship between David and Jesus as spelled out in the Bible, and when does it begin? If David is to be raised up, how would that take place, and if David existed more than 900 years before the time Jesus walked on the earth, what consequence would David’s existence have on the advance of Christianity into modernity?

Finally, it will seek to answer a more intimate question – what would David’s resurrection mean for you, the reader?

Christianity is a daunting religion to comprehend, specifically because it places extraordinary responsibility on people we know existed in history. It is through the consequence of their existence that the gravity of Christ’s life shapes our understanding of the world today. It is an undeniable truth that the single greatest influence on the development of western civilization is the story of Jesus.

In the immediate time of Jesus, there are historical artifacts that have been found, citing the existence of Pontius Pilate as a governor in Judea. We know of Augustus and Tiberius, the emperors of Rome during Jesus’ life in the region. There is King Herod. There is his mother, Mary.

Besides an ancient home in Nazareth with writing on its outer walls, identifying it as the home of “Miriam”, the Hebrew name for Mary, there is little else historically to point to her existence. There is Jesus himself. Outside the Gospels, there is scant evidence to suggest he was real.

The idea that a single being, someone who looked like one of us, ate and walked with us, is also responsible for the salvation of our species is staggering to envision, and yet that is precisely the journey we must undertake.

Therein lies the greatest challenge of understanding the story of Jesus; for centuries it has been institutionalized, when the fulfillment and promise of salvation must be personalized and internalized. To comprehend everlasting life, you must believe it exists within you. Said another way, we cannot become something we are unable to comprehend.

Stretching into the Old Testament, it is often hard to conceive of the notion that people like Moses or Noah walked the same earth we inhabit today. In some capacity, perhaps they didn’t. Before the implementation of the scientific method and the compartmentalization of things for the purposes of analysis, the world was filled with magic and powerful forces. Our apprehension of knowledge has led to a greater understanding of the order and structure of our existence, diminishing the power of “unseen forces”, and yet this search has invariably led us to the quantum where, to our astonishment, we have discovered the universe we perceive responds to the way in which we choose to perceive it.

Perhaps communication with our Creator was easier before we sought to analyze and dissect the world we live in, fixating on the external world while letting weeds grow in the internal one. Humans at the time had more of a sense of the power within them. It was after all Moses who, invoking the names of God, parted the Red Sea.

The same question of existence can be asked about King David. Aside from the Biblical text, the Tel Dan Stele is a fragmentary stele, or stone slab, which dates to the 9th century BC. It is a notable Aramaic inscription that contains reference to the house of David. And yet, for the full meaning of the Bible story to be realized, David must be raised from the dead. There are 18 distinct references in the Bible where Jesus is referred to as the Son of David. Jesus himself questions the relationship before the Pharisees, who are unable to answer the question posed. It is Jesus who provides the answer, fittingly, at the end of the Book of Revelation.

This book will explore the contemplations David must make, and the lessons to be extracted from such contemplations. The calculus for these considerations should be evident; David must take ultimate accountability for placing Jesus on the cross, while accepting transcendent salvation by acknowledging Jesus’ supremacy atop the Divine heavenly order.

The key to understanding Jesus then, is not conformity to the stringent structure of dogma, nor is it the perpetual reliance on external authority as the prevailing voice of governance on the spiritual aspect of our existence. Rather, it is the unrelenting excavation of the grand internal compass with which we all are equipped that enables us to personalize his teachings, awakening us to our Truth, and illuminating in our souls the Oneness we must visualize to return to our Divine origins.

Concerning dogma, as noted psychologist and speaker Dr. Jordan Peterson states in his brilliant book Beyond Order:

It is better to presume ignorance and invite learning than to assume sufficient knowledge and risk the consequent blindness. It is much better to make friends with what you do not know than it is what you know, as there is an infinite supply of the former but a finite stock of the latter.

When you are tightly boxed in or cornered, all too often by your stubborn and fixed adherence to some unconsciously worshipped assumptions, all there is to help you is what you have not yet learned.

In other words, it is our marriage to dogma, our unwillingness to test our beliefs, that most often impedes our enlightenment. We cannot understand the full magnitude, power, and grace of Jesus if we elect to view the world through the straw of rigid, untested assumptions and orthodoxy. We would be wise to recall the original meaning of the Greek orthodoxos, which means, of the right opinion.

On the contrary, ultimate faith in Christ invites the exploration of the uniqueness of the human experience and the idea of differing beliefs, grounded in the understanding that everyone’s life is by necessity exclusively their own. The cross each of us must carry is custom-made for us as well.

Regardless of the voice you assign to the thoughts and ideas that follow, it is my genuine hope that you receive these ideas with the understanding that, what is true and great for one of us is true and great for each of us – a high tide raises all ships. The evolution of any species is painful for those burdened with being the first to embark on the journey to evolve.

 

About the Author

I’m David Richards!  I’m a high performance executive coach, and help clients overcome leadership challenges while equipping them with the tools to become an extraordinary speaker.

 

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Book Tour ~ Lucky Secrets - A Mauzzy & Me Mystery by B. T. Polcari

 

 

Young Adult Cozy Mystery

Date Published: 6/23/25

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

College student Sara Donovan is in the homestretch of graduating when a mysterious package arrives with an invitation to an exclusive contest. One that will drastically change the winner’s life. Included are unsettling photographs from forgettable chapters in her life and a threatening note strongly suggesting she participate.

With no good options, Sara enters the contest and finds herself at a fabulous mansion up against eight formidable opponents, each with a dark secret and all racing to solve seven levels of riddles and puzzles.

After a contestant’s body is discovered, Sara contemplates dropping out when another package arrives, its chilling contents making clear she’s at the center of a dangerous game with deadly consequences if she quits. But what it doesn’t say is—what happens if she wins?

 

The attorney opened the blue folder. “Before reading the contest rules, I would like to briefly introduce the contestants, all of whom are based in the greater-Birmingham area, and their associates, if any.” He nodded in my direction. “With the exception of Miss Donovan, who is from Annapolis but goes to school in Tuscaloosa. When I say your name, please raise your hand.” His attention focused on the man who saw himself superior to all in the room. “Mr. Karsh Azarian.”

The pompous violin expert flicked a hand.

Winston nodded toward the man. “Mr. Azarian, who is here on his own, is a former collegiate basketball player at an academically-elite university and financial asset manager with an enviable record of providing returns that consistently beat the market by a surprising margin.” He paused. “And apparently, he’s also a Stradivarius aficionado.”

Azarian glowered but said nothing.

“Ms. Jessica Doerr,” Winston said, looking at a platinum-bottle-blonde unsuccessfully trying to appear in her fifties. She briefly raised her hand. Next to her sat a withered woman easily in her eighties. “Ms. Doerr, who is here with her mother, Virginia Byrd, is a mortgage banker with her own agency, specializing in refinancing services for the senior community.” He looked to the flip-flops dude slumped in one of the chairs. “Mr. Rodney Toft.”

“I go by Rod,” the frizzy-haired man stressed.

“Very well,” Winston replied. “Mr. Toft, who brought his girlfriend, Ashley Tennison, is a cryptocurrency exchange investor and trader as well as a technology venture capitalist. His recent meteoric rise with regards to wealth generation has been the talk of the financial world.” He motioned to the seething lady who had spoken up earlier. With a fake smile, he said, “Everyone met Ms. Olivia Fantucci, who is an attorney with her own firm specializing in large class-action lawsuits and personal injury. People either love her or hate her.”

The lady returned the attorney’s plastic smile with a death stare, thin lips pressed tight, eyes mere slits. Menacing.

Winston’s smile broadened, lingering on Fantucci for a second or two. “Ms. Fantucci’s associate is her friend, Marissa Chevalier.” He turned to a trim grandfatherly-looking man with short, white hair, a receding hairline, and a hooked nose. Sitting next to him was an elegantly-understated woman with an air of quiet wealth and privilege. “Mr. Spencer Fernsby.”

The man half-stood and threw a little wave and nod before sitting again.

“Mr. Fernsby, who is here with his wife of forty-eight years, Kathleen Fernsby, is the founder, CEO, and majority shareholder of the telecom giant, CLATEL Communications. In a mere five years, Mr. Fernsby has overseen the growth of CLATEL from a mid-sized regional provider to a national behemoth and stock-market darling.” Winston gestured to the gorgeous musician. “You also have met Mr. James Dougal, who, like Mr. Azarian, is here on his own. He is a real estate agent with his own agency specializing in high-end luxury properties.”

Dougal stood and bowed, a glittery smile on his face. “If you’re looking to buy or sell, call—”

“Mr. Dougal,” Winston interjected, “this is neither the time nor place for personal aggrandizement or”—he gave him the snootiest of looks—“advertising.”

Jimmy’s heartwarming smile vanished. Putting up a hand, he said, “My apologies,” and quickly sat.

Like he did earlier with Fantucci, Winston’s gaze lingered on Jimmy before addressing the car salesman. “Mr. Burl Jablonsky is the owner of four car dealerships—”

“Five,” Scooter said.

“Excuse me, five car dealerships including—”

“Just opened the fifth last month. Probably why you don’t have it in that there file.”

Winston eyed the beaming Jablonsky. “Yes, of course, you did. Mr. Jablonsky is the owner of five car dealerships including two luxury franchises. Correct, Mr. Jablonsky?”

The car man gave a thumbs-up. “Yes, sir. And like I said, y’all can call me Scooter. Got the nickname way back when I bought a scooter franchise and my baby brother here, Billy—”

Winston broke in. “Thank you, Mr. Jablonsky, but you can regale everyone with your colorful life stories over the next two weeks during dinner, which I will be getting to momentarily. Mr. Jablonsky’s brother, William Jablonsky, is his associate.” He extended an arm toward a dull-looking man in a plain black suit with a long, narrow face, pallid skin, and slicked-down silver hair combed to the side. “Now here we have Mr. Frederick Volkov, an immensely successful financier, stock trader, and arbitrageur. And as all can see, Mr. Volkov’s associate is his brother, Ivan Volkov.”

The dour Frederick Volkov sat motionless, heavy-lidded gray eyes focused on Winston with a burning intensity contrary to his persona. Next to him sat a carbon copy of the man, less the white-hot glare. His identical twin. And I mean—identical. Right down to the suits they wore.

Winston turned to me. “And last but certainly not least, we have Miss Sara Donovan, a business student at the University of Alabama and a nationally-recognized amateur sleuth. With her is Miss Donovan’s friend, Miss Zoe Harp.”

I gave a half-wave, my ears burning.

Winston consulted the folder in his hand. “Miss Donovan is the only contestant under twenty-one, although she will be celebrating a birthday tomorrow.” His gaze settled on me. “Which happens to be the Ides of March.”

Scooter jumped up. “Hey, y’all, you know what they say,”—he jabbed a stubby finger at me—“beware the Ides of March.”

About the Author

 

 B.T. Polcari is a graduate of Rutgers College of Rutgers University, an award-winning mystery author, and a proud father of two wonderful children. He’s a champion of rescue pups (Mauzzy is a rescue), craves watching football and basketball, and, of course, loves reading mysteries. Among his favorite authors are Richard Osman, D.P. Lyle, Frederick Forsyth, and Michael Connelly. He is also an unapologetic fantasy football addict. He lives with his wife in scenic Chattanooga, Tennessee.

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Book Blitz ~ The Brothers Brown - A Family Saga by R. G. Stanford

 

 

Native American Literature, Family Saga Fiction, Western, Biographical Fiction, Western

Date Published: 06-01-2025

You can almost feel the red dust clinging to your skin and catch the faint scent of jasmine in the air. This is Indian Territory at the edge of everything—law and lawlessness, hope and heartbreak, where the lines between right and wrong blur with every sunset.

Told with vivid detail, this is the story of a man caught between loyalty and his past, between a brother’s shadow and the light of his own becoming. A tale of love, betrayal, and the quiet courage it takes to change your fate.

From a stagecoach town in Tennessee to the first railroad towns of the Indian Territory, we delve into the lives of the charismatic and flawed brothers, Matt and Robert. Their sibling dynamic shapes the lives of the entire Brown family, steering them down a road of familial struggles and cultural clashes.

Matt always idolized his oldest brother, Robert – a smooth-talking charmer who taught him at a young age to live hard and win big. Following Robert’s footsteps, Matt is drawn into a life of high-stakes games and deception. Then he meets Milla. Sharp-eyed, brave, and unafraid to speak the truth, Milla is a woman rooted in her Choctaw heritage, carrying both strength and sorrow in equal measure. For the first time, Matt imagines a different future. But the past doesn’t let go easily and buried secrets never stay buried for long, clawing their way back to the surface when you least expect it. Now, Matt must choose between what consumes him and the life he wants to build.

Set against the raw beauty of the Choctaw Nation, this is a powerful story of blood ties and hard choices, of the people we love and the ones we betray. Gritty, tender, and unforgettable—this is where redemption begins.

About the Author

Raised on the beaches of South Texas, R.G. Stanford has always been drawn to stories that transcend time. That passion was ignited in 1976 with the discovery of Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, and deepened with The Feast of All Saints just a few years later. Though historical fiction wasn’t an immediate calling, a personal journey into genealogy changed everything.

With no close relatives nearby, R.G. Stanford turned to online resources in search of extended family. That search became a twenty-year journey through genealogy websites, Federal Census records, the National Archives, and old newspapers. Along the way, R.G. Stanford uncovered incredible stories about her family and the people who once lived in the Choctaw Nation, Indian Territory.

Compelled to record the truth of her family in the lore, sprinkled with imagination, R.G. Stanford is a history lover, a research buff, and a passionate genealogy enthusiast. She is also a mother, a grandmother, and a teller of stories, now living near Orlando.

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Preorder Blitz ~ Jack & Gil by Emily Carrington

 

LGBTQ, Paranormal Romance, Shifters

Date Published: June 27, 2025

Gilbert Sullivan, crown prince of the basilisks, hates his name, but he fears the rhyme may be prophecy.

 

Rhyme of Longing (Jack & Gil 1): When Prince Gilbert Sullivan meets Jack Sowerby, the new head of SearchLight, his attraction won’t let him stay away. Jack’s need for Prince Gilbert blossoms and he’s unable to resist -- until he’s forcibly changed into a magical creature. Will their shattered relationship ever be restored?

 

Rhyme of Longing (Jack & Gil 2)

Jack is falling apart, but no one seems to notice. As Jack withdraws, the tide of war rises. Jack must find a way to regain his strength and determination or SearchLight will fall. And he’s convinced he must do it alone.

 

Rhyme of Love (Jack & Gil 3)

Gil struggles to hide his loss of status from Jack, but when he finally confesses, Jack blurts out his secret. Jack knows he screwed up. Well, almost. Running the risk of losing Gil, Jack must learn to lie convincingly, or he’ll lose SearchLight, his life, and Gil, as well.

 

Excerpt from Rhyme of Longing

 

Jack wanted so badly to be done with this night that he felt uncomfortable in his skin. That was not the proper way to begin thinking about his sixty-eighth birthday, his five-year anniversary as the head of SearchLight Academy. This was a party for both those things but no one said “no” to Agent Weinberg.

Not necessarily the most powerful magical being in the world, she was still the head of the entire organization. Even though she held the nominal title of “head of Public Relations,” SearchLight’s whole reason for existing was to protect the relationship between magical and nonmagical peoples. Which was, of course, officially, no relationship at all. SearchLight was a secret and must remain so.

The influence she held would make most magical creatures bow in submission. Jack, being merely human, was suitably impressed. And although as yet not cowed, he was too fond of his life to waste it needlessly. Not that Agent Weinberg had killed anyone. Recently.

Jack took a deep breath in through his nose as the limousine pulled up to the curb. He’d been commanded to take this limo and the implicit service of a driver, and although he hadn’t enjoyed it particularly, he was glad that he hadn’t needed to find a place to park in downtown Washington, DC. So, unsure if he was supposed to tip the driver but wanting to show his appreciation, he stepped around to the driver’s side after the car was parked at the curb and offered the person behind the wheel, whom, his telepathic sense, told him wasn’t human, ten dollars.

“Would you be trying to bribe me to take you home, Agent Sowerby?”

Jack saw the humor in the green eyes turned up to his and smiled. “Never in life,” he told the Irish-sounding sprite or Faery or leprechaun. Damn, sometimes he wished for a werewolf’s sense of smell so he’d know the magical creatures around him at once.

“You’re a good man, Agent Sowerby. Don’t let her bully you now.” And with that, he winked and rolled up his window. Jack stepped around the car to the sidewalk and watched the limo drive away.

“Hey there.” The voice was soft, lightly accented, and full of a syrupy, sarcastic undertone that put Jack’s hackles up. He turned more slowly than he could have, wanting to appear older and so less threatening. He gazed at the three people facing him and saw they were all armed.

He was aware of others watching from the doorway of the restaurant but knew they wouldn’t intercede unless it became obvious he couldn’t handle himself. That was one thing about Agent Weinberg he didn’t like much. She believed in the “sink or swim” philosophy.

The woman who’d spoken was smiling in a particularly condescending way. “Got a handout for me?” She twirled the knife in her right hand as she reached out with her left for the ten spot Jack still held.

Jack offered it, keeping a good distance from her, forcing her to step forward to take the bill. He was aware of the other two moving to flank him. He disliked using his telepathic sense against what he considered to be defenseless people, magical or mundane, and yet he wouldn’t risk his own life to preserve theirs. “I suggest you take this and be on your way,” he said softly, putting a slight psychic push into the words. He blanketed the area with his calming presence, lacking the ability to focus on more than two people at once. Both of the men who’d been flanking him stopped. One of them shook his head but the other was definitely under Jack’s control.

“Back off,” Jack said and watched the woman lower her knife a little.

She snatched at the bill and her knife hand flicked upward.

Jack dropped the ten spot and caught her wrist. The knife’s blade skidded across the waterproof material of his trench coat. He forced her to drop the knife as he said, “Go away.”

The man under his control turned and fled. But the other lunged at Jack. Yanking the woman close, Jack used her as a shield. The other man’s blade slid between her ribs. He swore, stumbling back, and lost his grip on his knife. As he turned to flee, Jack lowered the woman to the ground. He shouted, “Someone call nine-one-one.”

Someone joined him out on the sidewalk. It wasn’t Agent Weinberg. It wasn’t a SearchLight agent he knew. There was regal bearing in the other’s posture as he crouched beside Jack. “Let me heal her.”

Jack didn’t protest, although he did skate his telepathic sense outward to determine if this was a magical creature. The fact that he’d said “heal” rather than “help” argued for him not being human. He came into contact with an impenetrable psychic wall and winced as his telepathic sense bounced off. Well, there weren’t all that many humans who could resist even his most casual reach. Ergo, this was a magical creature.

Jack nodded and said, “Go ahead.” He retreated inside his own head and as he pulled out his cell phone, unwilling to trust to others to call for help, he watched the broad-shouldered male beside him spit into his hand and press the palm against the wound even as he pulled the knife free.

Dragon, Jack thought. Dragons could heal with their saliva or a blood exchange. But this wasn’t a dragon Jack knew.

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

 

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