The Complete Story ARC

Nonfiction / Self-Esteem / Memoir

Date Published: January 15, 2026

Publisher: MindStir Media

From abuse and neglect to crime, addiction, prison, and crushing
debt—Patrick Simiglai’s story is not just about survival.
It’s about transformation.

In Fueled By Pain, ultra-endurance athlete and mental performance coach
Patrick Simiglai shares how he rebuilt his life from the ground up using
discipline, resilience, and 23 powerful mental techniques designed to help you
do the same.

Inspired by elite forces like the Danish Frogman Corps, Patrick pushed himself
through extreme physical challenges—ultramarathons, rope climbs, and
marathon swims—discovering that the real battle isn’t in the
body… it’s in the mind.

Patrick’s journey—from chaos to clarity—proves that no
matter where you start, you can rebuild your life. Today, he is a successful
entrepreneur, endurance athlete, and mentor helping others unlock their
potential and take control of their lives.

His message is simple—but powerful:

You don’t need a new life. You need a new relationship with yourself.

Pain, resistance, and discomfort are not signs that you’re on the wrong
path. Often, they are proof that you’re walking in the direction of
growth. You don’t have to feel ready. You just have to show up honestly
and keep your word to yourself—especially on the days when no one is
watching.

EXCERPT

There comes a moment in every long race where the body is not the problem anymore. The legs still move. The lungs still work. What breaks is the story in your head.

This is where most people start negotiating.

You tell yourself you deserve a break. That you have done enough. That no one will blame you if you stop now. The voice sounds reasonable. Friendly, even. But it is the same voice that has kept you small for years.

Discipline is recognizing that voice and choosing, again and again, to take one more step.

Fueled By Pain, 

Patrick Simiglai
Specialist in Mental Performance & Inner Dialogue | Ultra Endurance Athlete | Coach | Speaker | Author 

I train leaders, athletes and ambitious individuals in inner dialogue, integrity & self-discipline
www.patricksimiglai.com | Instagram: @patricksimiglai

“Challenges fuel growth. Courage creates opportunities.”
Book a talk or coaching: https://calendly.com/patricksimiglai/30-min-gratis-afklaringssamtale

About the Author

Patrik Simiglai is a Danish ultra-endurance athlete, mental performance
coach, and speaker dedicated to helping individuals transform their lives
through discipline, resilience, and powerful inner dialogue. As the author of
Fueled By Pain, Patrick shares a raw and deeply personal journey of overcoming
adversity and building mental strength from the inside out.

Competing in some of the world’s most grueling ultra-endurance
races—including 200- and 300-mile events across deserts, mountains, and
extreme terrain—Patrick has developed a unique approach to mental
toughness rooted in real-world experience. His work bridges the gap between
extreme physical performance and everyday personal growth, offering practical
tools for leaders, athletes, and teams to perform under pressure with
integrity and consistency.

Patrick’s path to success was anything but conventional. Growing up in a
childhood marked by abuse and later struggling with drug and alcohol
addiction, he understands firsthand the challenges of feeling trapped by your
own thoughts. His transformation—from chaos and self-destruction to
purpose-driven achievement—forms the foundation of his coaching,
speaking, and writing.

Through his work, Patrick emphasizes that true growth begins with mastering
your inner dialogue. His philosophy is simple yet powerful: you don’t
need a new life—you need a new relationship with yourself. By embracing
discomfort, taking responsibility, and committing to disciplined action, he
teaches others how to unlock their full potential and create lasting change.

Originally written in Danish and later rewritten in English as a personal
challenge, Fueled By Pain reflects Patrick’s belief that growth comes
from stepping outside your comfort zone and committing to the process, even
when it’s difficult. Drawing from years of journaling, coaching, and
extreme endurance experiences, the book delivers 23 mental techniques designed
to help readers build resilience, overcome self-doubt, and achieve long-term
success.

Today, Patrick Simiglai works with individuals and organizations worldwide,
inspiring others to confront their limits, strengthen their mindset, and turn
pain into purpose.

Website

Instagram: @patricksimiglai

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BDSM Romance, Capture Fantasy

Date Published: June 26, 2026

Kaska means to make Matia the centerpiece in an erotic ritual to honor his
Dark god.

Matia of Ruza is one of the legendary Battlemaids — a woman warrior who has
taken an oath of celibacy in service of the Maid of Light. When mercenary
Kaska of Artane helps Matia defeat a gang of brigands, the two become
partners.

Matia finds her oath of celibacy tested by her handsome Shieldmate’s
erotic appeal. But Kaska means to do more than test her. He worships the Dark
One, and he wants to make Matia the centerpiece in a sizzling erotic ritual in
honor of his god.

But first, he must defeat her in combat — and win her heart.

 

 

 

EXCERPT

 

Kaska of Artane slowed his stallion to an easy amble. Prince Britar’s fortress
lay a full day away, and he’d ridden poor Warbringer hard this past month. He
knew the Prince awaited the intelligence he’d gathered as a spy in neighboring
Trovan but laming his horse would serve no purpose.

Particularly with war on the horizon.

Besides, the last time Kaska had come this way, he’d had to battle the local
brigands. Two fell to his blade before the rest fled, but that left five. And
they might be in the mood for revenge. I don’t care to ride headlong into an
ambush.

“Whoreson bastards!” A woman’s roar of fury brought Kaska’s head up. He drew
Warbringer to a prancing halt.

Swords clashed, interspaced with male taunts and laughter. The laughter had a
distinctly ugly note. The woman swore again, an edge of grim desperation in
her voice.

The thieves had found a new victim.

Kaska set his heels to Warbringer’s flanks and thundered up the road toward
the sound. Rounding the bend, he saw five men fighting a lone female traveler
they’d managed to unhorse. He recognized the dented, rusted armor and unshaven
faces; it was indeed the same band of thieves.

But their victim was no common woman. Her armor and sword marked her as a
follower of the Maid of Light — a female warrior. She was tall for a woman,
with a lithe, muscular build and pretty breasts barely contained by her
intricately embossed breastplate. Long black hair swirled around her face as
she spun and hacked at her tormentors with a slim sword designed for a woman’s
hand.

One of the brigands already lay dead at her feet, but four others remained,
odds too great even for one of the legendary Battlemaids.

A grin of sheer, savage joy spread across Kaska’s face. With a howl, he drew
the blade sheathed across his back and kicked Warbringer into a thundering
charge.

The nearest of the brigands whirled too late. Kaska took his head with a
single stroke.

Another of the men jumped at him, hacking for his thigh with an axe, but Kaska
spun Warbringer aside and thrust his blade into the thief’s chest. The man
tumbled off the lethal point, gurgling out his life.

Meanwhile, the third brigand fell to the Battlemaid’s sword. His head tumbled
from his shoulders.

The fourth man looked from Kaska to the thieves’ would-be victim, calculated
the odds, and took to his heels.

Kaska snatched a dagger from his thigh sheath and hurled it at the coward with
an expert flip of his wrist. The man went down, the blade buried to the hilt
between his shoulder blades.

Scarcely breathing hard, Kaska turned to the maid. “Are you well?”

“Well enough.” She studied him, her dark eyes level. There was a sharp and
elegant beauty to her face, with its broad, high cheekbones and square little
chin. Her lush mouth could inspire a monk to carnal fantasies.

“My thanks, warrior,” she said at last in a low, husky voice, pushing the long
black hair out of her face. “There were too many of them for me to best
alone.” She considered him, appraising the width of his chest and the strength
of his sword arm. Female appreciation lit her gaze, mixed with a warrior’s
caution.

She had reason for that caution, for he meant to challenge her himself. He
worshiped the Dark One, and his god relished nothing as much as the moans of a
defeated Battlemaid.

Imagining the tight grip of her virgin ass, Kaska felt his cock swell behind
his loincloth.

Give her time to rest, and then…

Of course, the maid might well kill him instead, but looking at her long legs
and full, sweet breasts, Kaska thought it a chance well worth taking.

But as he opened his mouth to warn her of his intent, all color left the
Battlemaid’s face. Her eyes rolled up. Kaska threw himself from Warbringer’s
back as she collapsed in a heap.

Two long strides carried him to the maid’s side. Dropping to one knee on the
dusty road, Kaska began an anxious examination. He found no wounds on the
front of her body, so he rolled her onto her back.

The maid groaned and lifted her head. “Wha -?”

“Seems one of your cur attackers landed a blow after all,” he told her grimly.
“There’s a stab wound in your back just under your backplate, over your left
hip.”

“Aye,” she said, letting her head fall. “One of them had a dagger.”

“‘Tis not deep, but it bleeds still,” Kaska said. “I can treat it, if you
permit.”

“Aye,” the maid said, breathing now in shallow pants. “My thanks.”

Kaska nodded and rose to retrieve his pack of battlefield medicines from
Warbringer. Well, he thought as he walked to his horse, I won’t be challenging
her any time soon. Not with that wound.

Later, perhaps. When he’d examined her, he’d noticed she had a truly delicious
ass.

He wanted it.

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and
published more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the
Mageverse and Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than
two decades, Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career
Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’
Choice awards for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

 

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

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(Reckless Kings MC 9): A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance

Date Published: June 26, 2026

Publisher: Changeling Press

Willa — I tell myself I’m here for one reason — to survive. Not for
him. Not for what we had. One night shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.
Now I’m back, pregnant, and desperate, standing in the last place I
should be. And the worst part? He sees me.

Nitro — She thinks I won’t recognize her. Thinks I won’t put it
together. She’s wrong. One look at her, at the curve of her stomach, and
I know exactly what she tried to keep from me.

I don’t hesitate. I don’t negotiate. I claim her in front of
everyone. She can be angry. She can fight. Doesn’t change anything.
She’s mine. The kid’s mine. And I don’t let what belongs to
me walk away.

Perfect for fans of dominant bikers, secret baby romance, and second chance
love stories.

Willa

The gate loomed ahead, iron and intimidation. I adjusted my canvas bag higher
on my shoulder. Dusk had settled over the compound. I’d rehearsed what
to say fifty times on the bus ride over, how to stand, how to sound casual
about a decision that had kept me awake for weeks. But now, with my heart
hammering against my ribs and my hand resting protectively over the two lives
growing inside me, the words dried up in my throat.

I hadn’t planned for this — for any of this. One night with a man whose
face I’d memorized in the dark, and then the positive test, and then the
second one, and then the doctor’s office confirming what my body had
already told me. I’d kept moving. Found a room in a house with thin
walls and a landlord who didn’t ask questions. Worked shifts until my
feet ached and my back protested. Except it hadn’t been enough. I could
either pay rent, or eat. Most of the time, I didn’t make enough to do
both. And all the while, the babies inside me grew, a reality I couldn’t
walk away from no matter how much I sometimes wanted to.

I buttoned my coat one more time, checking that it covered the slight curve of
my belly. Not that it mattered anymore. Four months in, there was no hiding
what I’d come here to admit.

The Prospect guard stepped forward as I approached the gate, his expression
caught between wariness and routine assessment. Young — maybe twenty-five —
with a patch that marked him as not quite a full member. He had the careful
stance of someone who’d been told to take his job seriously.

“This is private property,” he said, voice neutral. “You
looking for someone?”

I’d expected this. Rehearsed for it. “I’m here about a job.
At the strip club.” I kept my voice steady, pitched it to sound casual,
like applying for work at an outlaw motorcycle club’s strip joint was
something I did every Tuesday. “Someone told me you’re hiring
dancers. I stopped by the strip club, but it looked closed.”

His gaze moved over me once, taking stock. I’d done what I could to look
the part — worn jeans tight enough to show the shape of my legs, a top with
sleeves long enough to cover my arms but cut low enough to suggest what was
underneath. Of course, my coat currently covered the top half of me. My hair
was loose instead of pulled back the way it had been the night I’d met
Nitro. The night this whole thing started.

“We don’t take applications at the gate,” the Prospect said,
but his tone had softened slightly. Maybe he believed me. Maybe he just wanted
to believe a woman with my face would want to take her clothes off for money.
Men usually did.

“I was told to ask for Nitro,” I said, the name catching in my
throat.

The Prospect’s expression changed — a flash of something like
recognition, quickly masked. “Nitro’s busy. Maybe you should come
back another time.”

“I don’t have another time.” The truth of it slipped out
before I could catch it. I took a breath. “Please. It won’t take
long.”

He hesitated, clearly weighing options. I watched the calculation happen
behind his eyes — the balance between turning me away and the potential
consequences if I was telling the truth about knowing someone important.

“Hold on,” he said finally, and reached for the radio clipped to
his belt.

I shifted my weight, trying to ease the persistent ache in my lower back. The
bag on my shoulder felt heavier by the second. The night I’d spent here
had been warm — hot with bodies and music and the specific heat of
Nitro’s skin against mine — but now the air carried a chill that cut
through my jacket. Or maybe that was just fear, sending ice through my veins
while my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest.

The Prospect was speaking into the radio, voice too low for me to catch the
words. I turned away slightly, giving him the illusion of privacy, and
that’s when I saw him.

Nitro.

He stood at the edge of the parking area, half-shadowed by the building. Even
from this distance, I could read the lines of his body — the way he held
himself, alert without appearing tense. He’d been about to leave or had
just arrived. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the way his gaze found
mine across the open space, the way his head tilted slightly as recognition
hit.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. My rehearsed speech, my careful
composure — all of it evaporated under his gaze. He was exactly as I
remembered. Tall, solid, with that watchful quality that made him seem both
completely present and somehow separate from whatever was happening around
him. I’d spent four months trying to forget the feel of his hands and
the sound of his voice, and here he was, real as anything, looking at me like
he was trying to fit the pieces together.

Then his gaze dropped to my stomach.

Just for a second — a quick, involuntary movement — but I saw it. His
expression didn’t change, but something happened behind his eyes, a
recalculation. When he looked back at my face, his gaze had sharpened.

The Prospect was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it over the blood
rushing in my ears.

Nitro straightened, said something to the men near him without taking his gaze
off me. The Prospect fell back a step, his posture shifting subtly into
something closer to deference. Nitro was moving now, crossing the open ground
between us with the same measured confidence I remembered from that night. Not
hurrying, but covering distance efficiently, each step deliberate.

He stopped three feet from me, close enough that I could smell the faint trace
of cigarette smoke on his clothes, far enough to give me room to step back if
I wanted to. I didn’t. My feet felt rooted to the ground, my body caught
between fight and flight with nowhere to run.

“Nitro,” I said. Just his name, the way I’d said mine that
night. Nothing attached to it, no explanation for why I was here or what I
wanted or why the shape of me had changed since he’d last seen me.

He looked at me for a long moment, his expression giving away nothing. Then,
without speaking, he tilted his head toward the gate and stepped aside,
creating a path.

An invitation. Not a question.

I swallowed hard. This was it — the moment everything changed. I’d
thought about it for weeks, turned it over in my mind during the long nights
when I couldn’t sleep, played out every possible reaction, every
potential ending. But standing here now, with the reality of him in front of
me and the knowledge of what I carried between us, none of those rehearsals
mattered.

What mattered was the step forward. The commitment to whatever came next.

I moved past him through the gate, feeling the brush of air as he turned to
follow. My back tingled with the awareness of his presence behind me, the same
awareness I’d felt that night in the hallway when I’d followed him
to his room. The same pull, complicated now by everything that had happened
since.

The compound opened up around me — the main building with its lit windows,
the row of bikes gleaming in the fading light, the sounds of voices and music
carrying on the evening air. It was exactly as I remembered and completely
different, seen now with the knowledge of what had happened here and what it
had led to.

I stopped a few yards inside the gate, suddenly uncertain. The bag on my
shoulder felt heavy. The babies in my belly seemed to pulse with their own
heartbeats, separate from mine but impossibly connected. I’d come this
far. Made the decision. Stepped through the gate. But now, with the reality of
it surrounding me, I couldn’t remember why I’d thought this was
the right choice.

Nitro moved past me, not touching, but close enough that I caught the scent of
him — clean and sharp underneath the smoke. He glanced at me once, his
expression still unreadable, and then tipped his head toward the main
building.

“Come inside,” he said, the first words he’d spoken. Not a
question. But also not a command.

I followed him across the gravel, my footsteps sounding too loud in my ears.
The Prospect watched us go, his expression carefully blank. A few of the men
near the building turned to look, curiosity quickly masked when they saw who
was with me. I kept my gaze on Nitro’s back, on the straight line of his
shoulders under his cut, on the measured certainty of his stride.

He held the door for me, one hand on the frame, not quite touching as I
passed. The warmth inside hit me like a wall after the evening chill, along
with the smell of beer and leather and the scent of a space lived in by too
many people for too long. It was exactly as I remembered from that night —
the same low lighting, the same sense of contained chaos — but empty now of
the press of bodies, the crush of the party.

We were alone in the main room, or nearly. A man I didn’t recognize sat
at the far end of the bar, nursing a drink and pretending not to watch us.
Otherwise, the space was ours — Nitro standing with his back to the door, me
with my bag still on my shoulder and my hand still resting protectively over
my stomach.

He glanced toward the bar and made a motion with his hand. The music died down
a few seconds later. He looked at me for a long moment, his expression giving
away nothing of what he was thinking. Then he reached for my bag.

I let him take it, my fingers slow to release the strap. As he lifted it, it
felt like some small piece of the burden I’d been carrying grew lighter.
Not the important one. Not the one that had brought me here. But something, at
least.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice level.

I took a breath. “You know why.”

His gaze dropped to my stomach again, this time holding there. Yeah. He might
not be able to see through my jacket, but he’d figured it out anyway.
Why else would I show up here out of the blue? Sure, he’d used a condom,
but those were never foolproof.

“Four months,” he said. Not a question.

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC Romances.
With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde immerses her
readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible women. Her works
exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still managing to end on a
satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new
plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book.
She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies.
Visit Wylde’s website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and
don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts and
other exciting perks.

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

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Date Published: January 8, 2026

Drawing from more than 25 years on the frontlines, award‑winning human
trafficking buster Maxwell Matewere delivers an unfiltered,
boots‑on‑the‑ground investigation into one of the world’s
fastest‑growing criminal enterprises worse than slavery.

This is not second‑hand reporting. It is not theory. It is truth wrestled
directly from survivors, traffickers, migration routes, brothels, recruitment
networks, fake job agencies, and the silent corridors where victims are bought
and sold like livestock.

Inside this book, you will encounter:

• Real cases of children trafficked across borders under the guise of
“education.”

• Young girls promised opportunity but delivered into prostitution and
violent sexual captivity.

• Men trapped in forced labour, stripped of pay, papers, and hope.

• Criminal networks operating like corporations—efficient,
ruthless, and invisible.

• Powerful insights into how traffickers weaponize poverty, trust,
promises, and psychological manipulation.

• The myths Americans believe about trafficking—and the
uncomfortable truths no one talks about.

• How victims become “assets,” broken down and exploited
until nothing remains.

This book exposes the global machinery of exploitation—recruiters,
transporters, corrupt officials, fake pastors, greedy relatives, organised
syndicates, migration scammers, and sexual predators—all working
together to turn human suffering into profit.

EXCERPT

Every one of us desires a good life. We all want to live well—have enough to eat, a steady income and everything we need to feel happy, healthy and secure. But in reality, this kind of good life isn’t always easy to come by. It is as elusive as ever. 

Many people venture to faraway places hoping to find a life better than the one they know at home. Some make that decision on their own. For others, it’s a result of coercion. 

Many people, especially from poor countries and rural ar-eas, flock to well-developed nations in hopes of starting a new life. But when that journey isn’t voluntary, it raises difficult ques-tions—like, why did you have to leave your home for a new, un-familiar place? 

The problems that lead people to start a new life in an un-familiar place include unemployment, poverty, food insecurity, desperation from hardship, limited access to quality education, gender discrimination, domestic violence, dysfunctional family environments and the impact of conflict or political transition on their countries. 

Others leave because legal migration opportunities are limit-ed or because they believe they can earn a better wage in another city or country. Others leave to escape prosecution or a political situation. 

The dream of a better life is therefore a driving force for peo-ple to leave home and venture into new places. However, as they say, ‘not all that glitters is gold’, and for many people, such hopes are rarely fulfilled. 

Instead, some end up in oppressive situations—forced into prostitution, trapped in poorly paid jobs with arduous working conditions or even becoming victims of organ trafficking. 

I have been working in the anti-human trafficking sector for over 25 years, and throughout my career, I have seen firsthand the mental and physical destruction this crime causes its victims, many of whom are children. 

However, although this crime is widespread across the world and within Southern African countries, it is not very well understood. 

When people do hear about these cases in media reports, the focus is often on arrests in brothels, raids on farms by labour of-ficials or the apprehension of suspected traffickers at border con-trol points. 

But reporting on the victims themselves remains limited, and they are often blamed for their own exploitation. Some are even led to believe they aren’t being exploited at all. 

This is why I’ve chosen to share the personal stories of sever-al victims I’ve worked with over the years, with their permission. My aim is to shed light on how they came to be in situations of exploitation and to reveal the many often-overlooked forms this crime can take. 

 I want the reader to understand who these people truly are, how criminals deceived them and how their hopes for a better life were crushed. 

They are not just crime statistics—they are men, women and children who have suffered deeply and, in many cases, continue with the impact of their ordeal. 

This book is for everyone working in the anti-human traf-ficking field, for current victims and those at risk, and for anyone seeking to understand this horrific yet sadly widespread crime. 

Although the cases outlined in this book are based on true events, I have changed the names of the victims and some loca-tions to protect their identities. 

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for the sake of family

Date Published: 12-04-2025

Set in the late 1890’s, The Brothers Brown – a family saga, Part 2 – For
the Sake of Family is a sweeping frontier saga of love, guilt, and redemption
– an unflinching portrait of a man’s descent into madness amid the
unforgiving wilds of Indian Territory.

When Matt Brown boards a northbound train, he carries more than a pistol. He
carries the weight of his brother’s death, a marriage strained to its
breaking point, and a conscience at war with itself. A doctor’s brown
vial of medicine offers fleeting relief but soon draws him into a darker world
where pain and guilt blur into something far more dangerous.

His wife, Milla, proud and rooted in her Choctaw heritage, stands as both his
anchor and his judge as the world around them shifts under the weight of
change and loss.

From Fort Smith, Arkansas, to the wooded banks of Bokchito Creek, two families
are bound by tragedy and love, vengeance and mercy. A celebration meant to
heal ignites old resentments. A family gathering ends in bloodshed. And a
winter dance turns deadly, forcing each to face the cost of survival,
forgiveness, and the ties that bind them.

Steeped in the spirit of the Choctaw Nation and the rough mercy of the Old
West, For the Sake of Family is a haunting tale of madness, murder, and the
fragile hope that redemption can be found on the far side of ruin.

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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The Mind Sleuth Series

Murder Mystery

Date Published: June 23, 2026

It wasn’t. Jansen had never been a DeBeer client.

Four days later, Jansen was identified as the shooter. But before the police
could locate and arrest him, he was found dead in an alley near downtown
Denver. At that point, suspicion pivoted to DeBeer’s many disgruntled
clients. One of them must have hired Jansen as their instrument of
retaliation, then killed him to cover their involvement.

This theory, too, led nowhere as the investigation stalled after three months.

Frustrated by the apparent lack of progress on the case, Lauren Beckwith,
Jansen’s cousin, hired Private Investigator Rebecca Marte to continue
the hunt. And while Rebecca apparently retrod much of the same ground as the
police detectives, she must have done something different, because before she
knew it, she was fighting for her life in a diabolical trap set by
Jansen’s killer.

About the Author

 If you’re interested in what I’m like in something more detailed
than what will fit in this space, I’d say, buy any of my books. That
overly analytic guy (read geek) is me. OK, I’ve never saved the day like
the heroes in my books, but we think alike. I’m interested in technology
and psychology (my formal background) and enjoy writing about where they meet,
now and in the future. In addition to pounding the keyboard, I like to tinker
with home automation and I’m an avid hiker. When I’m not on the
trails, you’ll find me at home with my wife and our dog in Aurora, CO.
For a closer look at my writing life, book reviews, and progress on my
upcoming novels, please join me at brucemperrin.com.

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Adventures in Thailand

Date Published: 06-23-2026

Publisher: Mission Point Press

Illustrated by: Megan Heller

Join them on an adventure to faraway lands-by crate, van, car, conveyor belt,
and airplane-as they discover the sights and sounds of a tropical new world.
Along the way, they meet friendly Thai people, encounter a wise dog, and gaze
in wonder at the golden Buddhas and temple cats standing guard. With a few
bumps in the road-marked by meows, tail twitches, and new surprises-they
journey onward until, at last, they arrive at their new home.

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Historical Fiction/Nautical Fiction

Date Published: June 23, 2026

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

The murder of his wife at the hands of British soldiers prompts American
privateer Captain Jonas Hawke’s vow to make Britain pay.

A grief-stricken Jonas strikes deep into the heart of the enemy, driven by his
personal vendetta. When he raids a port city, one of his men crosses an
unthinkable line, which forces Jonas to come to terms with the anguish that
distorts his definition of justice.

Concerned his wrath will bring irreparable harm to the cause for
America’s freedom, Jonas grapples with his role as a warrior and as a
man. When he learns the Royal Navy is hunting his ship, he fears his deadly
decisions may have cost him and his crew everything. It’s too late to
turn back. Instead, he must continue on and face the inevitable perils of war.

Perilous Shores is a gripping, action-packed, and historically authentic tale
of revenge, survival, and one man’s relentless pursuit of his
country’s independence.

About the Author

Tom’s first novel, Against All Enemies, earned gold medals from the
Military Writers Society of America and Literary Titan. In Harm’s Way,
the first in the Sea Hawkes Chronicles series has also garnered several
awards.

He resides in Brooklyn, New York, with his wife and daughter and a cat and a
dog. Whatever free time he has is still spent on the water.

For more about the author and to follow his blog about nautical and naval
trivia, visit his website ThomasMWing.com.

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