Romance Novel Giveaways

Troubled Water by Kassandra Lamb 💕 Behind the Scenes, Newsletter Freebie, Book Tour and Signed Book Prize Pack Giveaway 💕 (Cozy Mystery)

2026-08-11T00:07:00.000-04:00

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What does it say about you when your coming-of-age story begins at seventy-one?

What does it say about you when your coming-of-age story begins at seventy-one?

Amy Bridges Parker asks herself that question as she resists her domineering sister’s attempts to take over where her subtly controlling and recently deceased husband left off.

Then her sister Clara turns up dead! And a young man claiming to be the grandson of Amy’s first husband—the one who died in Vietnam fifty-two years ago—gives the sheriff a prime suspect. The boy had a grudge and must have gone after the wrong sister.

Amy isn’t convinced. She can’t really explain why, but she likes the young man. And she knows better than most that her sister, a mean girl back in high school, had plenty of old enemies. But who hated Clara enough to actually kill her? Or did the killer get the wrong sister after all?

Where the Research Takes Us~ What Makes Cats Grumpy

by Kassandra Lamb

In my new cozy mystery series, The Aging Ain’t for Wimps Mysteries, I have a character who is a grumpy cat. Mind you, I did not start out trying to capitalize on the grumpy cat trend.

The cat was intended to be just one of the many ways that my protagonist’s domineering sister annoyed my protagonist. Said protagonist, Amy Parker, is suddenly widowed when her husband has a heart attack. The next day, her older sister, Clara shows up—uninvited and supposedly there to lend support—but she tries to take over Amy’s life instead.

And she has brought her cat with her. Clara’s name for the cat is Misty. Amy calls her Nuisance.

The main problem with Nuisance is that she acts like she wants attention, but when one tries to pet her, they get a bite or a scratch as a reward.

This fictional cat was patterned after a cat my daughter-in-law owned when she and my son got married. Her name was Belle and I thought of her as the cat from Hell. (She is since deceased; God rest her soul.)

I owe Belle and my daughter-in-law a huge apology, but I get ahead of myself.

A couple of my early readers commented that cat lovers would probably not like Amy, because of her attitude toward Misty, aka Nuisance.

That got me to thinking. I’d already set up a back story for Amy that included her father, a veterinarian, moving the family to Florida when she was kid, so that he could take over a retiring vet’s practice.

So it would be natural for Amy—who inherits the cat when her sister is murdered—to take the cat to the current vet. Maybe the creature is not well, and that’s why she’s so grumpy.

And here’s where my research comes in...I figured I should look up reasons why cats might lash out when they are petted.

I found an article on reasons for aggression in cats. Third item down...petting aggression! It seems that some cats don’t like to be petted for good reason.

Here’s an excerpt from the book in which the vet explains what’s happening:

I’d given her a concise history on the cat, at least what I knew of it, including my sister’s mixed messages. When the vet had finished her exam, she said, “Well, she seems to be in good health.”

She paused, drew in air. “I think you’ve got three things going on here, regarding her behavior. One, poor training, as you’d already surmised. Two, this is a rather anxious cat, who now finds herself in a strange situation with strange people, and her normal human anchor has gone missing. Three, she’s petting aggressive.”

I’d been nodding along—it all made perfect sense—until she got to number three. “What’s petting aggressive?”

“She’s got a hyperactive nervous system. Too much physical contact becomes uncomfortable for her. I’d suggest minimizing stimulation until she gets more accustomed to her new environment…which takes awhile for cats, as much as three months.”

“In other words, leave her be for now,” I said, as I watched the assistant deftly return the cat to her carrier, a process that had taken me twenty minutes earlier, and had involved drawn blood—mine, not the cat’s.

“Exactly.” The vet beamed at me as if I were an exceptional student. “I have some pamphlets on behavior modification techniques for cats. Once she’s settled in a bit better, you can pet her briefly, but pay close attention to her body language. You’ll learn, after a while, what her signals are when she’s done with being touched.”

She paused. “Oh, and that rubbing against your ankles you mentioned, she may not be asking to be petted. That’s how cats mark their territory. It’s a good sign that she’s accepting you as hers, but it’s not always affection per se.”

“Oh. Good to know,” I said.

I followed the assistant, who was carrying the heavy cat carrier, out to the front desk. She handed over a couple of glossy pamphlets.

“Thanks,” I said. “These should be helpful.”

“Perfect,” the assistant said, for about the third time in the last half hour.

I bit my tongue to keep from saying that absolutely nothing was perfect in my life right now.

The assistant put the carrier in the backseat of my car. I resisted the urge to say, “Perfect,” and thanked her instead.

She smiled and walked away.

Before closing the car door, I bent down and looked through the grill on the front of the carrier. “Truce, Nuisance?”

The cat meowed. I took that as a yes.

Belle and Gina, my apologies! That’s what was going on...I had no idea.

Slowly but surely, during the course of this story (and into the next one in the series as well), Amy and Nuisance come to an understanding.

And I may even have Nuisance, the grumpy cat, play a role in catching the killer in Book 2! Yup, I just thought of a way to make that happen... :-)

Kassandra Lamb has two loves: writing and psychology. In her youth, she discovered that writers need day jobs in order to eat. Partial to food, she studied psychology. Now retired from a career as a psychotherapist and college professor, she spends most of her time in an alternate universe with her characters. The magic portal to this universe (i.e., her computer) is in Florida, where her husband and dog catch occasional glimpses of her. Kass has authored over 40 books, including four mystery series and a romantic suspense trilogy.

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Win a Prize Pack including a Signed Copy, a Grumpy Cat 2027 Wall Calendar, Grumpy Cat Stickers, a Troubled Water Mug and Taylor's of London Tea!

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Fire at the Track by M.J. Evans 💕 Behind the Scenes, Book Tour and Signed Book Giveaway 💕 (Cozy Mystery)

2026-08-11T00:06:00.000-04:00

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Someone set the fire.

Someone profited.

And when Callie gets too close to the truth, she becomes the next target.

Twenty-eight horses. One deadly fire. A racetrack hiding secrets.

When a late night blaze destroys Barn 7 at Liberty Racetrack, killing twenty eight prized Standardbred horses, authorities rule it arson. Insurance investigator Callie Oaks knows the fire wasn’t random. Raised in the harness racing world, Callie goes undercover at the track, posing as an exercise driver to investigate suspicious insurance claims. As she digs into the tight knit backstretch community, she uncovers secrets worth killing for. From the author of “Silver Charm,” “The Sand Pounder,” “Pinto,” and “The Stallion and His Peculiar Boy.”

Someone set the fire.

Someone profited.

And when Callie gets too close to the truth, she becomes the next target.

Perfect for readers who love:

Horse racing mysteries

Arson investigations

Small-town crime fiction

Female amateur sleuth / insurance investigator thrillers

Suspense with authentic equestrian detail

Fire at the Track is a fast-paced mystery thriller packed with insider racing drama, financial deception, and high-stakes suspense.

At Liberty Racetrack, everyone has a secret.

And one of them is a killer.

Why I Set My First Mystery in a World Almost No One Writes About

By M.J. Evans

I've spent most of my life around horses, so when I sat down to write Fire at the Track, the first book in my new Harness Racing Mystery series, I already knew the setting I wanted. What I didn't expect was how few people had gotten there before me.

Mystery readers have no shortage of options if they love the racetrack. Thoroughbred racing has been mined for decades — Dick Francis alone built a career on it. But harness racing, with its Standardbreds, its sulkies, and that distinctive lateral gait that looks nothing like a normal trot or gallop, has stayed almost entirely off the page. That gap is what pulled me in. I wanted to write for readers who already love a good cozy mystery, but give them a backstretch they've never walked before — the fog over a limestone track at dawn, the particular camaraderie of a barn family, the split-second calculations a driver makes at forty miles an hour with no seatbelt and no roof.

The story itself started with something much darker than a track record. On July 6, 2001, a fire at the Meadows Harness Racing Track in Washington, Pennsylvania, killed twenty-eight horses. The cause was never determined. More than twenty years later, in November 2023, another barn fire — this one at Tioga Downs in New York — killed thirty horses and a cat. A man was eventually convicted of arson, but his motive was never made clear. Both tragedies stayed with me long after I read about them, and eventually they became the backdrop for a story that is entirely fictional, but that I hope honors what was lost in those real fires.

Out of that came Callie Oaks, a former insurance investigator who goes undercover at the fictional Liberty Racetrack to find out who set a fire that killed twenty-eight horses — and who quickly realizes that the person responsible is still very much on the grounds, watching her get closer. I wanted a protagonist who wasn't a horsewoman pretending to investigate, but an investigator who had to earn her place among horsewomen. That distinction mattered to me. Trust in a barn is built in very small increments — the way you handle a lead rope, whether you show up before the sun does, whether a nervous horse decides to lean into your shoulder instead of away from it. Callie has to earn all of that while also trying to catch someone who is willing to kill again.

Readers of my earlier books — Silver Charm, Finding Fionn, The Stallion and His Peculiar Boy, The Sand Pounder, and Coal Dust and Dreams — know that horses have never been set dressing in my stories. They're characters in their own right, with their own instincts and their own say in how a scene plays out. That didn't change just because I moved from character-driven equestrian fiction into mystery. If anything, harness racing gave me an even richer world to draw from — the syndication deals, the barn politics, the backstretch bookies, the blood testing before a big race. It's a community with real stakes, real money, and real danger, and very few outsiders ever get to see how it actually works.

Fire at the Track is the beginning of a series I'm genuinely excited to keep building. Book two, Murder in the Winner's Circle, follows Callie into a case involving a poisoning at a birthday celebration and a gold mine embezzlement scheme, and a third book is already taking shape. I hope you'll saddle up and join Callie at Liberty Racetrack — and that by the end, you'll understand a little of why I fell in love with this world enough to build a mystery series around it.

Fire at the Track is available now from Dancing Horse Press.

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M.J. Evans is the award-winning author of twenty six published works spanning middle-grade, young adult, and adult fiction, as well as a selection of picture books. Her writing often explores themes centered around horses and equine fantasy, reflecting a lifelong passion for these remarkable animals. A graduate of Oregon State University and a former educator with experience teaching both middle and high school students, Ms. Evans brings both educational insight and storytelling flair to her work. She resides in beautiful Colorado with her husband, Tom, where they enjoy the company of their horses and Standard Poodle. She is the proud mother of five and grandmother of thirteen.

M.J. Evans was the recipient of the 2024 Colorado Authors League Lifetime Achievement Award.

Literary awards include: Chanticleer International Book Awards Readers’ Favorite International Awards Eric Hoffer Awards Nautilus Awards Literary Classics awards Literary Global Book Awards Feathered Quill Book Awards Purple Dragonfly Awards Royal Dragonfly Awards Page Turner Award Next Generation Award Global Book Awards CIPA Evvy Book Awards Pinnacle Book Achievement Awards Incipere Book Awards International Impact Book Awards Maincrest Media Book Awards Book Excellence Awards Mom’s Choice Awards

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A Murderer’s Guide to Mardi Gras by Ellen Byron 💕 New Release Tour and Print Book Giveaway 💕 (Cozy Mystery)

2026-08-11T00:05:00.000-04:00

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And if she’s not careful, her first Mardi Gras could also be her last...

It’s cozy. It’s culinary. It’s Mardi Gras madness! It’s the fifth book in this fabulous mystery series with a vintage flair from USA Today-bestselling and Agatha Award–winning author Ellen Byron.

Step 1: join a killer krewe

It’s carnival season in New Orleans, and Ricki James-Diaz and her friends from Bon Vee are dressing up for Mardi Gras. They’ve joined the notorious krewe of Chew to support Ricki’s chef boyfriend, Virgil, who is to be crowned this year’s king. It’s all fun, throws, and over-the-top outfits until the krewe’s captain is found strangled with his own medallion.

Step 2: survive the festivities

The prime suspect is Ricki’s friend, the deceased’s wife who discovered he was cheating on her. It seems a straightforward case, but Ricki isn’t so sure. The krewe’s leader had many enemies including his mistress, his krewe co-founder who he ousted, and his college friend whose girlfriend he stole. One thing’s clear, Ricki’s at the center of yet another murder investigation. And if she’s not careful, her first Mardi Gras could also be her last . . .

Perfect for fans of Joanne Fluke, these delightful mysteries bring New Orleans to life with fun characters and delicious recipes. This series is a must-read for culinary cozy lovers!

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Series Map

Little Rice Cakes Recipe Cards

Ellen is a bestselling author, Anthony nominee, and recipient of multiple Agatha and Lefty awards for her Cajun Country Mysteries, Vintage Cookbook Mysteries, Catering Hall Mysteries (as Maria DiRico), and Golden Motel Mysteries. She is also an award-winning playwright and non-award-winning writer of TV hits like Wings, Just Shoot Me, and Fairly OddParents, but considers her most impressive achievement working as a cater-waiter for Martha Stewart.

A native New Yorker, Ellen is a graduate of Tulane University and lives in the Los Angeles area with her husband, daughter, and a rotating crew of rescue pups. Visit her at http://www.ellenbyron.com/.

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Where There’s Smoke... by E.J. Copperman 💕 Behind the Scenes, New Release Tour and $50 Giveaway 💕(Paranormal Cozy Mystery)

2026-08-10T00:07:00.000-04:00

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The Sea Breeze Public Library is burning and it’s clear from the beginning that it must be arson...

Paint store owner Laura Meehan must prove her amateur sleuthing skills (again!) when her small town’s public library starts burning in this installment of the Haunted Paint Store cozy mystery series.

Don’t mess with a paint store owner’s safe haven!

Laura Meehan has her hands full with her paint store, but also with another case (that she will definitely leave to the police to solve)! The Sea Breeze Public Library is burning and it’s clear from the beginning that it must be arson.

Who would want to burn a library down and why? Was it a group of moms protesting what they see as inappropriate book content? Maybe it was someone who didn’t like a title they lent? Or is there something more alarming going on?

As a library volunteer, Laura simply has to find out, and together with her IT-savvy husband Roy and her ex-detective father’s ghost (real or imagined still yet to be determined), she stumbles upon a lot of obstacles on her quest to find the truth—and maybe even an arsonist who might strike again!

A light-hearted cozy mystery with a paranormal twist and Copperman’s signature wit, humor, and zaniness. Perfect for fans of Copperman’s Haunted Guesthouse Mysteries and Cleo Coyle’s Haunted Bookshop Mysteries, as well as funny and cozy mysteries by Janet Evanovich, Elle Cosimano, and Amanda Flower.

Do You Believe?

E.J. Copperman

I have written, now, 13 books that feature characters who are ghosts. (That’s 10 in the Haunted Guesthouse series, two in the Haunted Paint Store series, and one more in the Paint Store series that won’t come out until next year.) So one of the questions I’m most often asked by readers and on panels is: Do you, personally, believe in ghosts?

My answer is always the same, and I say it with complete conviction: I’m not going to tell you.

It’s a double-sided sword for people who write ghost stories, particularly the light-hearted mysteries with which I make my living (I’m not going to scare anybody). If I answer the question by saying that I believe the spirits of the dead live on and can be communicated with here on Earth, some readers will believe that I am a strange person who has, at best, a slippery grip on reality. But if I say I absolutely don’t believe in ghosts, many of my readers, particularly the ones who hold that belief, will consider me a traitor.

So good luck getting a straight answer out of me on the subject.

There’s a certain wish-fulfillment aspect to the whole ghost issue: If we believe that there is existence after death and that we can still communicate with friends and family, we can take a lot of the dread out of the end of life. And what evidence people point to in trying to prove they’ve had supernatural experiences ranges from the pretty convincing to the you’ve-gotta-be-kidding. There’s a whole spectrum of responses. I choose not to publicly state where I stand on the issue.

But I will tell you one thing about how I write ghosts, as I do in Where There’s Smoke, the second book in the Haunted Paint Store mystery series: I think that ghosts, if they do exist and we can communicate with them, are going to be annoying.

In the Haunted Guesthouse series, the two resident ghosts, Paul and Maxie, were stuck in the house against their will and would badger the current owner, Alison Kirby, about things going on in the house or about things that had to do with their in-the-past lives. She was trying to run a guesthouse on the Jersey Shore and raise her daughter, so she already had a lot to do. She didn’t need two dead people adding to her workload.

With the Haunted Paint Store books, the situation is a little different. Laura Meehan sees and hears only one ghost, her recently-deceased father Amos. He (was) a retired police detective who bought a paint store, which Laura is now running. And he has ideas about both the business and the investigations she finds herself enmeshed in, ideas that he does not feel compelled to keep to himself. Laura, not long after seeing his ghost, began psychotherapy sessions with a woman she calls Abby the Analyst, and she’s trying to determine whether she’s being driven crazy by a real ghost or a figment of her imagination.

In the course of Where There’s Smoke, when Laura is trying to find out who set fire to the local library, she asks her dead father for help, and gets a lot of cop speak about how to interrogate suspects. Which would be fine, if she had any suspects. Amos is bored, since he hasn’t been able to leave the paint store in months, and will keep rattling on about the case. Laura wants to solve it, and to find out where the missing librarian might be, but being lectured by your father on a daily basis can get tiring, especially when he’s dead.

I suppose my template for this presentation of dead spirits is the Topper series of films and the television program that followed them. The ghosts (originally played by Cary Grant and Constance Bennett, and then not) were constantly interfering with Topper’s life and inevitably getting him into trouble. Even at a very young age, when the TV show was already being shown in syndication, I thought that was how ghosts, if there were such things, would probably behave. So my ghosts are not going to be trying to frighten anyone, but they will drive you nuts.

Whether or not I think such a thing can happen outside the pages of a novel is, in my mind, irrelevant. If you believe in my ghosts, I’ve done my job. If you don’t, well, you don’t have to answer that question.

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Paint store owner Laura Meehan makes the discovery of a lifetime in her shop when she stumbles upon a body and . . . her dead father’s ghost! This brand-new Haunted Paint Store Mystery has Copperman’s signature wit, humor, and zaniness aplenty!

Dealing with her father’s recent death, Laura Meehan decides to move back to her New Jersey hometown and take over the paint and wallpaper store he opened after quitting his straining job in the police. Knowing that she is uprooting her own and her supportive husband Roy’s lives, she’s determined to continue her father’s legacy and keep the business alive.

But that doesn’t seem to be the only thing alive when Laura discovers that her store is haunted by none other than her deceased father! Either that or Laura has finally lost her mind and developed Ghost Traumatic Stress Syndrome . . .

When she discovers the body of the town’s deadbeat painter Ernie on top of all that, Laura is determined to find the culprit who’s rudely used her store as their murder scene, with the help of her ex-police detective father’s ghost—real or not, Laura might as well make use of his expertise!

It turns out Ernie owed a lot of money to a lot of people. Could one of them have reached breaking point and killed the freeloader?

A lighthearted, fun, and quirky cozy mystery with an intriguing paranormal twist. Perfect for fans of Copperman’s Haunted Guesthouse Mysteries and Cleo Coyle’s Haunted Bookshop Mysteries, as well as funny and cozy mysteries by Janet Evanovich, Elle Cosimano, and Amanda Flower.

(Always double-check the price before you buy)

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E.J. Copperman is a figment of someone’s imagination. Sometimes E.J. writes as Jeff Cohen. Where There’s Smoke is his 36th published mystery. But he says he doesn’t write mysteries; he writes comedies that have a mystery in them. It’s up to you to decide if that’s true.

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The Half Kasst by Delilah Belvedere 💕 Pre-Release Tour and $20 Giveaway 💕(Vampire Romance)

2026-08-10T00:06:00.000-04:00

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An ancient bloodline.

A forgotten war.

A woman destined to awaken both.

After a charged encounter ignites something ancient in her blood, Sarai Davis becomes entangled in a world of hidden magic where pleasure and danger are inseparable.

A shocking prophecy shatters her reality: Sarai is a Half Kasst, descended from an erased bloodline and born to stand against a secret network of aristocratic vampires.

Now hunted, Sarai must reclaim a legacy meant to be wiped from history, and embrace her power before the forces hunting her finish what they began millennia ago. But power always demands payment.

“Ahhh,” Primo exclaims, ready to submit to her. His shoulders lurch.

Elena keeps swinging and pulling. “You are mine. My slave. My toy. My servant. You do as I say when I say it. You mean nothing to me!”

With each word, each sentence, she swings and pulls, his flesh being torn from his back over and over, flesh flying around the room, blood smearing the floor and the walls, smearing her face. She keeps swinging until Primo buckles onto his elbows, drooling, blood running down the sides of his body onto the floor.

💕 To be released September 8 💕

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Delilah Belvedere is a Kenyan-born, Washington, D.C.–based author and keynote speaker whose stories weave together mythology, sensuality, and power. Her writing blends African-inspired mythology with nontraditional vampires, witches, immersive worldbuilding, and unapologetically sensual storytelling, exploring themes of identity, legacy, and self-discovery through bold, unforgettable characters. Drawn to the spaces where ancestral magic, forbidden desire, and hidden histories collide, Delilah creates worlds where passion is transformative, power is inherited, and destiny is written in blood. Through every story, she champions authenticity, body positivity, curiosity, and the courage to embrace one’s truest self. When she’s not writing, Delilah is exploring new cuisines, hosting backyard BBQs, or binge-watching her next favorite series.

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Seeking the Kidnapped Child by Deena Alexander 💕 New Release Tour and $25 Giveaway 💕 (Romantic Suspense)

2026-08-08T00:07:00.000-04:00

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When his daughter’s taken,

getting her back is all that matters.

When his daughter’s taken,

getting her back is all that matters.

FBI Agent Tristan McAvoy just learned he’s a father—but his little girl’s been abducted by his enemies, and he’s caught in a deadly shoot-out the moment he tries to rescue her. He barely flees unscathed with his ex, Avery Taylor, and his K-9 partner in tow. The criminals have a deadly agenda—if Tristan testifies at an upcoming trial for a major crime boss, he’ll never see his child again. Stranded in the mountain wilderness, Tristan and Avery are trailed by ruthless mercenaries, who are closing in. Can they survive long enough to save their daughter—or will they be silenced forever?

Avery Taylor clutched her sleeping daughter tighter, her fight-or-flight instincts begging her to do anything other than stand there, frozen, staring down the two masked gunmen blocking her from entering her home. “Please, I…”

But what could she say? Had she stumbled upon a home invasion? She couldn’t imagine having anything either of them could possibly want. She lived off the beaten path. The small but cozy two-story bungalow she’d inherited from her grandfather sat alone on a cul-de-sac at the end of a long, winding mountain road. And she worked from home as a medical transcriptionist, supplementing her income with her inheritance to make ends meet. Well, whatever they wanted, they could have it, as long as they left her and her four-year-old, Liliana, alone. She opened her mouth to say as much.

The taller of the two lifted his weapon, his hand rock steady.

She could only assume he’d done this before.

“Where’s Tristan McAvoy?” he demanded.

Her mouth snapped right back closed again. Once she recovered enough to try to answer, her voice shook before she could utter more than a grunt, and she worked to steady it. Although she didn’t know why she bothered. It was clear she was terrified, and even more so now that she knew what they wanted…because she couldn’t give it to them. “I don’t know where Tristan is. I haven’t seen him in almost five years.”

Since he’d walked out on her and never looked back, despite her numerous attempts to get in touch with him and tell him he was going to be a father. He’d been her best friend, her love, her future, and then he’d been gone.

Her arms began to tremble beneath Liliana’s weight, and Avery hefted her up higher so the little girl’s head rested more comfortably on her shoulder. The last thing she needed was Lily waking to this mess. They’d attended a church festival that evening, and her daughter had passed out on the way home. It was a good thing Lily was a heavy sleeper.

The shorter man, who outweighed her by a good hundred pounds of pure muscle, gestured toward the front door with his weapon. “Get inside.”

She hesitated.

“Look, Avery…”

The fact that he knew her name and had associated her with Tristan sent a chill racing up her spine, despite the heat of the summer night. If they knew all that, she had to figure they knew Lily was Tristan’s daughter as well, even if Tristan didn’t know. But how had they found out? True, she’d listed him as Lily’s father on her birth certificate, but why would this stranger have access to that?

“All you have to do is tell us where to find McAvoy.” The man’s easy shrug belied the tension in his posture. “Once we have him, we’ll let you and his kid go. Easy enough?”

It would be if she believed him, and if she had any clue where to find Tristan, but she wasn’t buying it. Then again, they did have on ski masks, which gave her some hope that they planned to let her go. If not, they’d have no reason to conceal their identities. Of course, she couldn’t give them what they wanted. If she knew how to get ahold of Tristan, he’d know about his daughter.

An image of him flashed in her mind—his shaggy brown hair that just brushed his collar and always seemed in need of a trim, a smile that could melt her heart in an instant, his brilliant blue eyes that used to cage hers and fill her with hope for their future together. A hope that died when he walked away with promises to return once he’d gotten his head on straight. An empty promise, as it turned out.

She’d wanted to talk to him after he’d left, to tell him he was going to be a dad instead of imparting the news via voicemail, email or text. She’d wanted to gauge his reaction, so she’d simply asked him to call her back. Time and time again. And he hadn’t. Not once. So, he’d never learned about his daughter. But that wasn’t really fair. He’d left after his parents had been murdered, bitter and grief-stricken and so filled with anger she hadn’t known what to do for him. Still, he could have answered at least one of her messages.

Focus, Avery.

She weighed her options.

ONE

Avery Taylor clutched her sleeping daughter tighter, her fight-or-flight instincts begging her to do anything other than stand there, frozen, staring down the two masked gunmen blocking her from entering her home. “Please, I…”

But what could she say? Had she stumbled upon a home invasion? She couldn’t imagine having anything either of them could possibly want. She lived off the beaten path. The small but cozy two-story bungalow she’d inherited from her grandfather sat alone on a cul-de-sac at the end of a long, winding mountain road. And she worked from home as a medical transcriptionist, supplementing her income with her inheritance to make ends meet. Well, whatever they wanted, they could have it, as long as they left her and her four-year-old, Liliana, alone. She opened her mouth to say as much.

The taller of the two lifted his weapon, his hand rock steady.

She could only assume he’d done this before.

“Where’s Tristan McAvoy?” he demanded.

Her mouth snapped right back closed again. Once she recovered enough to try to answer, her voice shook before she could utter more than a grunt, and she worked to steady it. Although she didn’t know why she bothered. It was clear she was terrified, and even more so now that she knew what they wanted…because she couldn’t give it to them. “I don’t know where Tristan is. I haven’t seen him in almost five years.”

Since he’d walked out on her and never looked back, despite her numerous attempts to get in touch with him and tell him he was going to be a father. He’d been her best friend, her love, her future, and then he’d been gone.

Her arms began to tremble beneath Liliana’s weight, and Avery hefted her up higher so the little girl’s head rested more comfortably on her shoulder. The last thing she needed was Lily waking to this mess. They’d attended a church festival that evening, and her daughter had passed out on the way home. It was a good thing Lily was a heavy sleeper.

The shorter man, who outweighed her by a good hundred pounds of pure muscle, gestured toward the front door with his weapon. “Get inside.”

She hesitated.

“Look, Avery…”

The fact that he knew her name and had associated her with Tristan sent a chill racing up her spine, despite the heat of the summer night. If they knew all that, she had to figure they knew Lily was Tristan’s daughter as well, even if Tristan didn’t know. But how had they found out? True, she’d listed him as Lily’s father on her birth certificate, but why would this stranger have access to that?

“All you have to do is tell us where to find McAvoy.” The man’s easy shrug belied the tension in his posture. “Once we have him, we’ll let you and his kid go. Easy enough?”

It would be if she believed him, and if she had any clue where to find Tristan, but she wasn’t buying it. Then again, they did have on ski masks, which gave her some hope that they planned to let her go. If not, they’d have no reason to conceal their identities. Of course, she couldn’t give them what they wanted. If she knew how to get ahold of Tristan, he’d know about his daughter.

An image of him flashed in her mind—his shaggy brown hair that just brushed his collar and always seemed in need of a trim, a smile that could melt her heart in an instant, his brilliant blue eyes that used to cage hers and fill her with hope for their future together. A hope that died when he walked away with promises to return once he’d gotten his head on straight. An empty promise, as it turned out.

She’d wanted to talk to him after he’d left, to tell him he was going to be a dad instead of imparting the news via voicemail, email or text. She’d wanted to gauge his reaction, so she’d simply asked him to call her back. Time and time again. And he hadn’t. Not once. So, he’d never learned about his daughter. But that wasn’t really fair. He’d left after his parents had been murdered, bitter and grief-stricken and so filled with anger she hadn’t known what to do for him. Still, he could have answered at least one of her messages.

Focus, Avery.

She weighed her options. She could make a run for the car, where she’d left the doors standing open and her bags inside in hopes of retrieving them after she’d gotten Lily into bed, but she’d never outrun a bullet if these men intended to shoot her. Then again, they couldn’t get information from her if she was dead. But they could incapacitate her. How could she risk leaving Liliana alone with these monsters? She couldn’t. Which left her no choice but to do as they’d instructed.

Lily’s weight was becoming a strain on her back and shoulders, and she didn’t want to set her down on the stone walkway and risk waking her. But she did have to put her down. If it came down to it, she couldn’t fight with Liliana in her arms. What did it matter if she went inside with them anyway? It wasn’t like there was any chance of someone driving past to notice what was happening or being close enough to hear her screams. The secluded home she’d grown up in, that she’d always viewed as so peaceful and serene, a safe haven tucked against the side of the mountain, surrounded by fields and wildflowers, now seemed nothing but isolated. She’d never felt so frightened and alone, even after Tristan had left and her grandfather had passed away.

But if she could get inside, if she could get to her grandfather’s hunting rifle hanging above the mantel, maybe she’d stand a chance of defending herself and her daughter.
Hoping to appear meek and docile, she kept her gaze averted as she said, “Let me get my daughter inside.”

She sidestepped the shorter man and shoved the key into the lock, then pushed the front door open and stepped inside. The air-conditioning in the small entryway chilled the sweat that snaked down her hairline and along her back. Keeping track of the men flanking her in her peripheral vision, Avery prayed Liliana would remain asleep as she crossed the room, eyed the rifle hanging over the massive stone fireplace, and climbed the stairs to Lily’s bedroom. She set her daughter gently into bed then smoothed long, wispy strands of blond hair off her baby’s face.

“God, please keep her safe,” she whispered as she tucked Lily’s security blanket into her arms. And help me get her out of this mess.

Her back ached from standing still with Liliana’s weight in her arms, and she pressed a hand against it.

“Hands where I can see them!”

She shot her hands in the air. As if she had a weapon stashed beneath her sundress. “I was just rubbing my back.”

“Get downstairs!” He waived the weapon toward the stairway.

Anxious to get the gunman away from Lily, she followed him back to the living room.

“Sit down! Now!” He gestured toward a green-and-cream-patterned armchair that had been part of the bungalow’s decor for as long as she could remember. “And don’t try anything.”

She perched on the edge of the seat cushion, prepared to attack given even the slightest opportunity.

The two men huddled together between the seating arrangement and the fireplace, their frantic murmurs too muffled for her to make out.

Ignoring them, she scanned the area. There was no way she’d make it across the room to the gun before they could reach her. Even if they didn’t want to shoot her, they could easily overtake her.

The fireplace tools were also out of reach. As were the knives in the kitchen and anything else a rambunctious four-year-old could get into or hurt herself with.

Finally, the taller man pulled a phone from his pocket and scrolled as he walked out the front door, leaving the short, stocky guy staring at her.

He dropped onto the ottoman almost knee to knee with Avery, elbows resting on his knees, handgun clutched loosely. “Look, Avery, let’s be realistic about this. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now there’s no way out of this.”

There’s always a way out, she reminded herself, if only she could find it.

“All you have to do is tell us where to find McAvoy and we’ll go.” He spread his hands wide, as if his argument was perfectly rational, which it might have been if he wasn’t holding her at gunpoint while he laid it out. “There’s no reason for any harm to come to you or that pretty little girl of yours.”

Her stomach heaved, turned over and threatened to rebel.

“Just tell me where to find McAvoy and I’ll be on my way.”

She started to ask him what this was about, hoping to at least stall him, but decided against the idea. She had a feeling the less she knew, the better off she’d be. She didn’t bother trying to hide her tears, simply let them roll down her cheeks without swiping them away. The pain of her past combined with her current terror gripped her heart and squeezed. “I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t know where Tristan is. He walked out on me almost five years ago, after someone murdered his parents. I never spoke to him again after that.”

Could this have anything to do with his parents’ deaths? He’d insisted before he left that he didn’t invite her to go with him because he wouldn’t put her in the position of having to make a choice between him and her grandfather. He knew her grandfather’s health was deteriorating and she wouldn’t want to leave him, which was true, but she’d always suspected there was more to it. She’d often wondered, in the middle of the night, when the world was quiet and still, if he’d left to try to avenge his parents’ deaths. As far as she knew, their attackers had never been found, and in their small mountain town, muggings and homicides were far from routine.

Had he finally hunted down their killers? Had he done something to them? He’d been so angry when he’d left, so determined to find justice. Maybe these men were seeking revenge for something Tristan had done.

Either way, it didn’t matter right now. At the moment, all that mattered was getting these men out of her house and calling the police. “I’ve tried to get in touch with him to tell him about his daughter, but he never responded to any of my attempts. I honestly have no idea how to find him.”

Her voice shook, but there was nothing she could do about that.

“Well, then…” The guy straightened, stared her down.

If she managed to survive this, she’d remember those ice-cold eyes for the rest of her life. Given the opportunity, she’d be able to identify him.

He shoved to his feet, aimed the weapon at her head. “I guess we’ll do this the hard way.”

Avery held her hands up in front of her. As if they could ward off bullets. “Please. I don’t know what I can tell you. I don’t have the information you’re looking for.”

“If you don’t know where McAvoy is, I suggest you find him.” Spittle sprayed. He started to pace, pressing the heel of his gun hand against his forehead and muttering something incoherent.

Whatever he wanted with Tristan, it couldn’t be good. Would she give him the information if she had it? She’d probably say or do anything to get this man out of her house and away from her daughter. She could always try again to contact Tristan and warn him he might be in danger once the man was gone. If the guy didn’t kill her first.
“I’ve tried to find him, numerous times. I don’t know how.” She sobbed softly, giving up any hope of controlling her emotions.

He stopped in front of her, contemplated her, then kicked her chair. “Get a pen and paper.”

Reeling, she frowned at him. “For what?”

He grabbed her long, blond ponytail and yanked her to her feet, then shoved her toward a desk in the corner. “So you can remember what you’re supposed to do when you come to.”

“Come to?” What was he talking about?

“I am fast running out of patience.” He pressed the muzzle hard against her temple. “Get the pen and paper. Now.”

She nodded, the cold metal moving with her, then crossed the room and grabbed a pad and pen from her desk drawer. She turned to face him. “Okay.”

He pulled the desk chair out and shoved her into it. “Start writing.”

Her hands shook wildly as she uncapped the pen and held it poised over the pad.
“You track down Tristan McAvoy.”

She started to turn toward him, to plead with him. “But I—”

He backhanded her hard across the face, the sting of the slap a stark reminder of what was at stake. “I don’t care how you do it. You find him. And you tell him he is not to testify at the upcoming trial.”

Her heart pounded hard enough to rock her back and forth, bringing a wave of motion sickness. She wrote exactly what he said, word for word, though the letters were barely legible, her hands were shaking so badly. “What trial?”

“He’ll know.”

She nodded, sniffed. “Okay. Anything else?”

“Yeah, do not contact the police.”

“Okay.” Though that was exactly what she planned to do the instant they walked out of her house. Maybe the police could track down Tristan and pass along the message.

“As long as you follow our instructions to the letter, and Tristan comes out of hiding, your daughter will be returned to—”

“No!” Terror seized her. She lurched to her feet, tumbling the chair to the side.
He ignored the outburst. “Liliana will be returned unharmed.”

“Please. Leave Liliana alone. I’ll do anything you ask. There’s no reason to take her.” Oh, God, please don’t let them take my little girl. “Please.”

“You have one week to find McAvoy and stop him from testifying.” He aimed the handgun at her, then a slow smile spread through the hole in his mask. He shifted the weapon slowly toward the stairway. “If you make any attempt to notify law enforcement or contact anyone other than McAvoy, we will know, and we will dispose of his daughter.”

Rage surged through her. She bent and grabbed the chair back, barely hefted the would-be weapon, and swung as hard as she could.

The chair slammed into the man’s shoulder and broke apart. The gun flew from his hand. Before Avery could scramble after the weapon, he staggered for an instant, then regained his footing and lunged for her.

A well-aimed kick to the groin slowed him down. She raked his cheek with her nails, wishing they were longer, but at least she’d have his DNA beneath them if he killed her. Which was what he’d have to do if he wanted to take her baby out of this house.
He shoved her back.

She landed hard on the floor, slammed her elbow and saw stars, then rolled and jumped back to her feet, knees bent, braced to fight.

Something cold and hard hit her temple.

She lurched to the side, staggered, bent at the waist, sucking in air, desperate to hold on to consciousness.

The guy’s partner stood over her, gun raised high. Then he brought the weapon down again.

Her knees buckled. Blackness encroached, tunneling her vision as the other guy ran up the stairs then returned with Liliana flung carelessly over his shoulder.

Avery tried to cry out, to gain her footing, to reach her child.

Lily, awake and screaming, pummeled the man’s back with her tiny fists. “Mama!”

The last thing Avery saw as the shorter man walked out was her little girl’s frightened expression, before his partner hit her again and she went down and lost her battle with unconsciousness.

Deena Alexander grew up in a small town on the south shore of eastern Long Island, where she met and married her high school sweetheart. She recently relocated to Florida with her husband, three kids, son-in-law, and four dogs. Now she enjoys long walks in nature all year long, despite the occasional alligator or snake she sometimes encounters. Deena’s love for writing developed when her youngest son was born and didn’t sleep through the night.

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Sinister Remnants by Anita Dickason 💕 Book Tour and Tote Bag Giveaway 💕 (Cozy Mystery)

2026-08-06T00:07:00.000-04:00

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The Past Leaves Traces!

Some Turn Deadly!

The Past Leaves Traces! Some Turn Deadly!

Ambushed during a press tour of the new Red Door Inn, Tori Winters is blindsided by an accusation that she doesn’t own the mansion.

The Metro reporter’s vicious rumor soon proves to be more than tabloid fodder. An attorney has the proof.

Ensnared in a ruthless legal battle, Tori’s desperate search for answers uncovers a chilling truth. Some things were never meant to be dug up. But someone had.

A remnant, long forgotten in the shadows of her inheritance, ignites a danger far deadlier than a courtroom fight.

One murder was only the beginning.

Who is the next victim?

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Tori gestured toward her team. “On behalf of all of us, thank you for coming. We hope you enjoyed the tour.”

Tori moved to the foyer, while Tina distributed the packets.

Holding the front door open, she smiled and thanked each reporter as they filed out.

Polaski, the last to leave, shot her a smug little look. “Too bad you went to all this effort for nothing.”

Tori kept her expression steady, but the words hit like a blow as she closed the door. A knot of unease tightened in her chest. She turned.

“For cripes’ sake! What was that all about?”

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Anita Dickason is a twenty-two-year veteran of the Dallas Police Department. Anita served as a patrol officer, undercover narcotics detective, advanced accident investigator, and Dallas SWAT tactical officer and first female sniper. Her law enforcement experience and knowledge provide an endless source of inspiration for her characters and plots.

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Secrets of the Cryptids by Sharon Buchbinder 💕 Guest Post, New Release Tour and $25 Giveaway 💕 (Paranormal Romance)

2026-08-06T00:06:00.000-04:00

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She never belonged to the pack—until fate led her to him.

She never belonged to the pack—until fate led her to him.

Cybersecurity expert Hayil Rufus Rose has spent her life hiding one impossible truth: she’s a werewolf who has never shifted, a failure by her pack’s rules and a woman on the brink of exile. A solo hike in Glacier National Park is meant to clear her head—but instead, a chance meeting with Will Penn, a guarded federal agent with powerful instincts and secrets of his own, changes everything.

As Hayil becomes entangled in a missing persons case involving Will’s brother, she uncovers corruption, cartel money laundering, and violence threatening the Blackfeet Nation. She forms an unexpected bond with a Bigfoot family, who are not monsters, but an ancient people who recognize her latent power. Through trauma, loyalty, and near-fatal danger, Hayil finally undergoes her full transformation, claiming her identity at last.

Secrets of the Cryptids launches a thrilling paranormal romance series about found family, fierce hearts, and the courage it takes to become who you were always meant to be.

Bigfoot and Me

By Sharon Buchbinder

I’m a Janie-Come-Lately to the Bigfoot Believer Tribe—which may surprise people who know my fascination with anything that refuses to fit neatly into science’s square boxes. Bigfoot Believers draw on evidence from researchers, scientists, and Bigfoot Experiencers—people who have actually had firsthand encounters. Some believe Sasquatch is an undiscovered bipedal hominid; many Native American cultures consider Bigfoot an ancient tribe that retreated when White settlers arrived on Turtle Island. Others see Bigfoot as a supernatural or paranormal entity, possibly connected to UFOs or UAPs.

Despite my scientific training—psychology (BA), neuroscience (MA), nursing (AAS), and public health (PhD)—I’ve never seen a UFO or a Bigfoot. But I am no stranger to the paranormal.

Paranormal events have threaded through my life since childhood. Merriam-Webster defines paranormal as “not scientifically explainable,” and I’ve always accepted that alternate reality. Whether or not others believe in these phenomena has never mattered to my own experiences: dreams that come true, thinking of someone moments before they call, knowing my sister was pregnant before she did, or hearing a ghost in my college duplex.

In the 1970s, while studying psychology at the University of Connecticut, I participated in telepathy experiments using the now-famous J.B. Rhine Zener cards. My “hit rate” as a receiver was, as the study noted, “statistically greater than chance occurrence.”

Only later did I learn about the CIA’s psychic spy programs, remote viewing research, and the MK ULTRA behavioral modification project. I now suspect those college experiments may have doubled as a quiet recruitment tool for psychic talent. A large scientific evaluation later found that remote viewing results were statistically positive—though “not detailed enough for practical uses in the field.” The military continued the work for a time before officially shutting down their psychic soldier units.

Fast-forward to today: the U.S. government has begun releasing decades of UFO/UAP documents. It makes you wonder—will Bigfoot be another revelation waiting in the wings? After all, in 1976, David Byrne sent a hair sample to the FBI and didn’t hear back for forty years, only to be told it was “deer hair.” Forty years? The mail isn’t that slow.

Scientists, trained observers, and everyday people have been searching for Bigfoot for decades. The holy grail, of course, is physical evidence. Researchers like Jeff Meldrum, PhD—an expert in primate foot morphology and locomotion—have dedicated their careers to the subject. The Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization (BFRO) maintains a massive database of “credible sightings and related reports,” searchable by state and county. Scott Tompkins’ Bigfoot Mapping Project uses crowdsourcing and GIS technology to visualize sightings. Even Dr. Jane Goodall, the Queen of Primatology, refused to rule out Bigfoot’s existence.

My new release, Secrets of the Cryptids, plays with this tension between skepticism and belief. Hayil, my werewolf protagonist who has never shifted, pushes back against her best friend Ashley’s Bigfoot enthusiasm:

“Isn’t this enthusiasm for cryptozoology a little…I don’t know”—Hayil wiggled her fingers—“woo-woo?”

Ashley, of course, disagrees. “This area isn’t just Big Sky Country, it’s Bigfoot territory. You saw and smelled a Sasquatch. That’s the kind of experience people would give their eyeteeth to have.”

Hayil’s dog chimes in with a nuzzle, as if to say, Are you hearing this?

Ashley continues her science-based defense: “Every year, new species of flora and fauna come to light… Last year, a sinkhole in China revealed a new underground ecosystem with an ancient underground forest. We may never know what lives at the bottom of the deepest trenches in the ocean. It’s science, not superstition.”

While I may be a latecomer to the Bigfoot Believer Community, I’m in good company. And who knows? Somewhere in the Montana wilderness, Bigfoot might be enjoying a bumper crop of huckleberries.

Hayil had the advantage of excellent night vision—super vision compared to other humans. Plus, she possessed an almost uncanny ability to connect with most wild and domestic animals. Hayil mentally grimaced. She could also thank her grandmother for her long overdue ability to shift. What would it take to trigger her body into the lupine version of herself? Was it like a growth spurt that hadn’t hit her body yet? Or was Hayil destined to remain the one person in her pack who wasn’t able to wolf out?

Once again, her mother’s constant refrain came back to her: “You’re a late bloomer, like your grandmother. She was older than you when she shifted. All in good time. You’ll see.”

Sure, Mom.

Hayil knew her mother wanted the best for her, but found her cheerfulness a bit forced. Beneath her mother’s optimism, Hayil sensed an undercurrent of concern about her thirty-year-old daughter’s ability to integrate into the red wolf clan. This missing piece of Hayil’s identity called to her like a siren’s song, demanding she complete herself. Would she ever be a true part of the pack? Or would she forever be the unmated one? What then? She was an anomaly, something the pack didn’t tolerate well. Tradition dictated that if a pack member didn’t shift by the end of their third decade, they were banished.

A chilling thought struck Hayil mid-stride.

If I don’t shift this year, will they force me out of the pack?

Sharon Buchbinder is an award-winning author who has been writing stories since she could hold a pen. The paranormal romance genre is her writing home, a place where the impossible is simply the beginning, where women find their power in the most extraordinary circumstances, and where love is always worth the danger of seeking it.

A Maryland-based author with a background in healthcare and higher education that has informed her vivid, grounded storytelling, Sharon is drawn to heroines who have been underestimated — women who carry something extraordinary inside them and spend the whole book learning to trust it. Sharon believes passionately that readers deserve stories where the heroine doesn’t just survive — she transforms. When she’s not writing, Sharon can usually be found unplugging in her garden, obsessing over cryptid mythology, and convincing her pets they are not, in fact, supernatural.

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Kiki Wellington's FREE eBook Event, Guest Post and EXCLUSIVE $10 Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Erotica)

2026-08-04T08:12:41.549-04:00

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Kinda quiet around the house now that the kiddos are back at school, huh?

Great for reading!

Snag these freebies by Kiki and add a little sizzle to the silence!

Mark has special talents—that’s part of what Maggie loves about him after all—and relishes the opportunity to put them on display in front of an audience. When Donna finally goes to see Mark’s performance, she finds out just what Maggie has been raving about. And by the end of this wild girls’ night out, she’s convinced that she’s just seen the greatest show on earth.

Warning: The Show (5,700 words) contains self-love, anatomical acrobatics, and a human pole dance.

When Jeannie and her husband buy a house in the country, they can't wait to fulfill their lifelong dream of opening a bed and breakfast. But as she prepares to launch her new business, she finds herself seduced by a paranormal entity dedicated to delivering sexual pleasures beyond her wildest fantasies. Confused and somewhat afraid, Jeannie is torn between wanting the entity out of her home and craving more orgasmic encounters with her ghost lover.

From the Author:
ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. Supernatural Seductions is a 13,000 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: Supernatural Seductions contains seductions from a hot and horny ghost soldier, a thwarted paranormal investigation, and a brief art history lesson.

Although some massage therapists at the local spa give their clients a little something extra from time to time, Claire has always resisted the urge to dance the happy ending hula. That is, until her favorite client triggers a desire in her that she just can’t resist.

From the Author:
ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. Stroking is a 6,100 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: Stroking contains oral education, sauna sex speak, and oily encounters.

More Sensing Lust:

Watching
Listening
Licking
Inhaling
Sensing Lust (The Complete Series)

Sutter Avenue Paranormal Society (SAPS) are called in to investigate a haunted bed and breakfast as a favor to a friend. Hope believes the tales of a horny entity pleasuring guests are just a clever publicity stunt, but finds herself pleasantly surprised by the paranormal evidence she collects...as well as a chance encounter with a handsome television producer.

From the Author:

ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. The Sexorcist is a 6,800 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: The Sexorcist contains seance seductions, erotic nighttime visitations, and paranormal pickup lines.

More Haunted Desperation:

The Bare Witch Project
Para-Sexual Activity
Night of the Living Bed
A Humping in Connecticut
The Amityville Whore
Haunted Desperation (The Complete Series)

Sutter Avenue Paranormal Society (SAPS) are lost in the middle of nowhere until Andrew feels an uncontrollable urge to canoodle with a strange, naked woman in a pond. The encounter leads the group to a new client who needs their help breaking a spell that has left her lonely and sexless for years.

From the Author:

ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. The Bare Witch Project is a 6,600 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: The Bare Witch Project contains closet coitus, navigation interruptus, and bewitching revenge.

More Haunted Desperation:

The Sexorcist
Para-Sexual Activity
Night of the Living Bed
A Humping in Connecticut
The Amityville Whore
Haunted Desperation (The Complete Series)

The jig was up: After living as a struggling artist for over a year, Elle Anderton’s secret—she’s really an heir to the Anderton Oil fortune—is revealed. Though her boyfriend is livid about her lies, he starts to understand why she needed them. But when Elle suggests a series of love tests to prove that Darren isn’t after her billion dollar trust fund, will his understanding have its limits?

From the Author:
ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. Cruel. is a 16,600 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: Cruel. contains name games, tomato titillation, painted pleasures, and threesomes gone wrong. This story is the first installation of The Billionaire Bitch Trilogy.

More of The Billionaire Bitch Trilogy:
Unusual.
Punishment.
Cruel and Unusual Punishment (The Complete Billionaire Bitch Trilogy)

Coralee never wanted to be a pastor's wife...and she certainly never wanted the creepy house her husband inherited from his loyal flock. Yet there she was, alone in a passionless marriage, irritated by the constant demands of the church, and uncomfortable in her own life.

Then he showed up. Coralee wasn't sure where he came from, but she did know he took her to otherworldly heights of sensuality she could never conjure up even in her wildest fantasies. Was he a ghost? A demon? Or the Devil himself? It didn't make any difference...as far as Coralee was concerned, he was the very answer to her prayers.

From the Author:
ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. On the Other Side of Lust is a 41,900 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: On the Other Side of Lust contains closet connections, lascivious lessons, paranormal pleasures, and amorous awakenings.

More of The Portal Series:
-Through the Doorway of Desire
-The Entry to Ecstasy
-The Portal (The Complete Series)

Exhibitionists seem to follow Annie wherever she goes, and she loves to watch them--anyone, anytime, anywhere. But when her new neighbor wants her roving eyes on him, she finds that voyeurism is best when it's a two-way street.

From the Author:

ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. Watching is a 5,200 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: Watching contains sensual stargazing, locomotive self-love, and a sexmobile on the street.

More Sensing Lust:

Stroking

Listening

Licking

Inhaling

Sensing Lust (The Complete Series)

Serena needs to understand why she's been having erotic dreams about a long-lost ex--a fallen soldier who died years ago. After seeking guidance from a therapist, a friend, and even a psychic, she feels an overpowering need to look for answers at a country bed and breakfast. During her visit, Serena taps into her unresolved feelings and sexual desires, giving her the closure that she desperately needs.

From the Author:

ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. Supernatural Seductions IV is a 6,000 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

With a stack of bills in one hand and a phone in the other, Andrea decides to talk her way out of debt in the dirtiest way possible—just as long as no one finds out. But when her erotic moonlighting intersects with her day job, will she end up revealing her sexy secret and acting out her fantasies?

From the Author:

ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. The Late Shift is a 33,000 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: The Late Shift contains provocative personas, titillating training, and the most erotic of customer relations.

Sutter Avenue Paranormal Society (SAPS) have the opportunity to talk to a high-powered television executive about starring in a reality show. When he takes a special interest in Lauren, will she impress him with her psychic abilities--or does he want something much more carnal from her?

From the Author:

ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. A Humping in Connecticut is a 13,000 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: A Humping in Connecticut contains naughty negotiations, steamy messages, and reconciliation woes.

More Haunted Desperation:

The Sexorcist

The Bare Witch Project

Para-Sexual Activity

Night of the Living Bed

The Amityville Whore

Haunted Desperation (The Complete Series)

Chloe was bored. And lonely. She wanted excitement and little did she know, more thrills and lust than she could ever imagine would be delivered from the other end of a ringing pay phone. But by the end of her lustful thrill ride, will she ultimately wish she had never picked up?

From the Author:

ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. By Misadventure is a 15,100 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: By Misadventure contains pay phone prowess, fountain fantasies, and seduction on the steps.

When Kim agrees to let her cousin take her to a psychic, she thinks it’s just a ruse to get her mind off of her grief for an afternoon. Little does Kim know, she will make an otherworldly connection that heals the ache in her heart and reawakens the desires she thought were long buried.

From the Author:

ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. Seductive Signals is a 32,000 word story that contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

Warning: Seductive Signals contains silly psychics, romantic reminiscing, sensual second chances, and a phone that can wake the dead.

💕 Visit Kiki on Medium and read even MORE steamy stuff 💕

Although I’ve been writing fiction since I was a teenager, I fell into writing erotica because, like many people in this space, I saw the surge of indie erotica after Fifty Shades of Grey was published. I thought I would give it a shot and the result was my first story, Supernatural Seductions.

The fact that my first toe dip into the erotica pool was a paranormal story is no coincidence: I have been both fascinated wholly and frightened witless by the otherworldly since I was dragged to see the original Amityville Horror in the movie theater as a child. Horror movies and novels became my primary go-to entertainment source for many years, and although they made for many sleepless nights, I couldn’t stay away from them.

I also can’t resist a strange story. Or a story with a twist. (I have The Twilight Zone and Alfred Hitchcock Presents to thank for that.) I know that some of my stories can be downright weird…and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Much like life, the path I take from Point A to Point B is not always a straight line and orgasms are often part of the journey my characters take, not always merely the destination.

I see myself as a literary flesh peddler—that is, like a talent scout, I get the characters together and let them perform. They present themselves to me, tell me who they are and what they want to do, and I give them the stage to do it on. Naked, of course. Some characters are bold and brazen and tell me exactly how they want to navigate the story, while others are more quiet and reserved, causing me to give them stricter direction in their scenes. In the end, I hope this all results in a fun and sexy story that turns you on as it takes turns you may not have expected—but leaves you satisfied on multiple levels nonetheless.

When I’m not writing my quirky erotica, I’m being quirky over on Medium, where I write erotic poetry, sex and relationship tips, flash fiction, and summaries of sex research. This is a great complement to my erotic stories because it allows me to explore sex and relationships in a different way—and hopefully help readers laugh, learn, think, get horny, and find information they can use in their own relationships and sex lives.

I love this strange little corner that I’ve created for myself and whether you read my fiction or my work on Medium, I hope you enjoy it too. I am tremendously thankful for each and every one of my readers because you are giving me your most valuable asset—your time. You could be doing anything in the world right now, but instead you’re spending this moment with me, and for that, I appreciate you.

With gratitude and mind-blowing orgasms,

Kiki Wellington

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Burnout by Isobel Reed 💕 Cover Reveal and $10 Giveaway 💕 (Small-Town Romance)

2026-08-04T07:36:54.935-04:00

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She thought chemistry only existed on the page, then he set her world on fire.

She thought chemistry only existed on the page, then he set her world on fire.

The only men in Lucy’s life are fictional. Which is fine. So fine. At thirty, she is happy with her life. She has a ride or die best friend. A cute little ginger cat to snuggle with. And an apartment full of books. What more could she possibly want? Well, before Jack Jones swaggered into town, with his designer suits and British accent, the answer was nothing. But now, here he is, showing up where she works, calling her beautiful and making her question everything.

Jack Jones had it all. High-powered job in the city. Fancy apartment. Women offering to warm his bed every night. Then he blew up his life. Now, he’s in small town Wyoming, doing damage control while babysitting his sister’s kids. There is one silver lining though… Lucy Mills. He felt a spark during his first visit to Woodvalley Pines, when he’d shamelessly flirted with her at the diner where she worked. Three years on, she’s somehow even harder to ignore. She’s everything he’s been searching for. If only she’d just let him in.

Return to Woodvalley Pines one last time with this swoon-worthy opposites attract romance packed full of chemistry, charm and Isobel Reed’s signature witty banter. Burnout is perfect for fans of Book Lovers by Emily Henry and The Flatshare by Beth O’Leary. Whether you’ve already devoured the other books in the Love Burn Series or are enjoying it as a standalone, you won’t want to miss this final book.

“Um … do you know what you’d like to drink?” Lucy’s head was down, her focus entirely on the pen and paper she was clinging on to for dear life. Her golden hair fell loose around her shoulders while a thick braid swept along her hairline like a crown. Even in simple jeans and a black shirt, she looked like a goddess.

“Can I get a root beer, Luce?”

“Sure can, Dyl.” She peeked up just enough to give the kid a kind smile.

Like the greedy motherfucker Jack was, he wanted some of that smile, too. “What do you recommend?” He kept his gaze on her, leaning back in his seat and draping an arm across the back of the booth.

“To drink?” Finally, she peered up at him.

“Yes, beautiful. To drink. What do you like …? What’s your favorite?” Ignoring Dylan’s snort, Jack’s eyes went to her pretty pink cheeks.

Lucy’s brow furrowed at the question. “Uh. Um. The iced tea, I guess.”

“Then that’s what I’ll have.” He shot her his most panty-melting smile, delighting as her cheeks darkened.

The fact that she got so flustered around him should be enough of a warning to leave her alone. But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

“You’re into Lucy?” Dylan asked as Jack unashamedly watched her walk away.

When he finally glanced back at his nephew, he saw a familiar wide grin stretching across the kid’s face.

Just like Cody.

Dropping his elbows onto the steel tabletop, he leaned in close. Dylan did the same. “Why? Do you think she’s into me?”

Not only did Dylan answer no far too quickly, but the kid also went on to laugh his arse off. Right in Jack’s face. And he didn’t stop. He even tipped his head back and laughed harder and louder until Jack was sure he saw tears in the boy’s eyes.

Jesus. Kids are fucking cruel.

Once Cat and Cody’s devil child had finished, Jack did not hide his frown. Or was it a scowl?

“Why the hell not?”

Dylan’s caramel-colored gaze went from Jack to Lucy, and back to him. “You’re old.”

“Am not,” Jack protested, with all the maturity of the preteen sitting across from him.

“Yeah. You are.”

“How old exactly do you think I am?” he asked incredulously. Thirty-seven was not old.

Dylan shrugged, the movement causing some of his messy brown hair to flop onto his forehead. “Forty-five.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open. The bloody cheek. Before he had a chance to correct his nephew, though, Lucy was back and placing their drinks in front of them before pulling out her notepad again.

“How old do you think Uncle Jack is, Luce?”

Are you freaking kidding me?

No dessert for Dylan.

💕 To be released September 8 💕

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Isobel was born and raised in London. While she’s a city girl at heart, she loves daydreaming about running away to a charming small town—though she’s not entirely sure her husband and son would share her enthusiasm for the move. When she’s not writing small-town romantic comedies or growing unhealthily attached to the characters in her books, you can find her reading, chasing after her very active toddler, or attempting to channel her inner domestic goddess in the kitchen (with varying degrees of success).

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