February 25th = Fictional things I wish were Real:
I have two for this. One is the Lantern Corps. With my temper I would get the red ring, but still.
The second is Hogwarts. If Hogwarts existed, the American version would have too exist too. I am basing that off the beginning of the fourth movie. Of course, with my luck, all my siblings would get a letter and I never would.
June 24th: Have you ever attended you high school reunion? Why?
As far as I know, my school had only one reunion. No, I didn't have any interest in going. What would be the point?
For this week's topic: Websites I wish Still Existed
Bolt.com (I like to think of it as the social media before social media)
Which I used in highschool
Until next time....
*** The Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge is a weekly feature host by longandshortreviews.
This post is part of a virtual book tour orgainzed by Goddess Fish Promotions.Lynn Crandall will be
awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner during the tour. Click
on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
An Aeon by birth,
Diane Butler knew when she walked away from her fellow Aeons that she wanted
certain things: wealth, power, acceptance. But she'd come to realize she didn't belong
with Dark Sides and joined in the battle to save Auralia from darkness. But when her
past comes after her, she understand that she can't escape it with a simple name
change.
A surprise encounter that turns ugly pits lone Emmett Forrest against thugs determined
to hurt Cassie. With each threat out cold on the ground, he believes he's done. But
when the men report the incident to the Auralia Police Department, he can't avoid the
drama or the intrigue surRead an Excerpt
“Anyone else bored as sin? We stopped the Irish mob and Dark Sides from taking over
Auralia in December. January and February, we took some time to recover from Dark
Sides’ Project Reckoning. I know you all have been tending to your personal lives, your
relationships, and your careers, but for me, those two months were the epitome of
boredom. Now March is almost over, and still boredom reigns.”
“Diane—” Braden started.
“Cassie,” she interrupted. “Try to remember, Braden. I’ve told you so many times that
I’m using my middle name now. I’m not Diane anymore.” She pouted her lips.
“Cassie. I told you, Cassie for short.” She swept her gaze around the living room at
Braden and Payson’s house and flung her hands up. “I swear, it’s not that hard to
remember my name. I made a change, I’m not Diane. I’m not that woman any more. I’m
aligned with light and love. I’m Cassie. Cassie. Cassie Butler. Gauzy, gossamer, and
open, not rigid, harsh, or angry Cassie.” The rock lodged in her gut weighed her down.
Was she different? Truly? She’d been putting in the work with her counselor, Claire Eve
Kelly, to make the change permanent. But with the chaos of the past not far behind, she
ached for the excitement of the life she had. The parties, the conniving to get what she
wanted. It had all been so mesmerizing.
About the Author After cutting her writing teeth as a feature writer for
commercial and trade magazines, a reporter for newspapers and radio, and an
executive editor for a communications company, award-winning author Lynn Crandall
tuned her voracious appetite for stories to writing contemporary and paranormal
romance, women’s fiction, and romantic suspense. In her books, she enjoys taking
readers on emotional journeys with relatable characters who refuse to back down, and
face challenges and tribulations with heart and soul. She believes every love has a
story, and hers is with one handsome husband and a large, beautiful circle of family,
including her cat Winter.rounding her.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Miles Hillmann will
be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour
banner to see the other stops on the tour.
The Super Seeders is based on first-hand accounts from the
scientists, breeders, and curators who have built the seven pillars of today's plant
genetics revolution. It begins with the guardians of global gene banks, conserving the
rare and diverse crop genes that form agriculture's safety net. From these collections,
plant geneticists are now unlocking hidden traits with fast-moving genome technologies,
transforming the possibilities of crop improvement.
International research centres and the groundbreaking Plant Treaty have opened the
floodgates for the free exchange of genetic material, enabling a new wave of discovery. Crop breeders are translating these breakthroughs into reality, delivering drought-
tolerant, disease-resistant, and higher-yielding varieties for farmers.
The book raises a pressing question: will this revolution reach the 70 percent of Africans
who still depend on subsistence farming? The answer will shape not only the future of
food in Africa, but the future of food security worldwide.
A story of ingenuity and urgency, The Super Seeders captures the hopes and
challenges of the women and men driving a genetic transformation of agriculture—and
the farmers whose lives depend on its success.
Read an Excerpt
In the cool, rolling hills of southern Ethiopia’s Wolaita Highlands, the sun crested the teff
and barley fields and coloured the red soil with long shadows. Selam, widow and
mother of four, wrapped her scarf around her tightly and came out into the morning light
from her thatched tukul house, her hands clasped around a woven basket.
She headed for the community seed bank, a mud-brick hut just outside the school,
amidst the eucalyptus trees. Inside the hut, the scent of dried grain and neem leaves
filled the air. Wooden shelves ran around the room, where clay jars and gourd
containers were labelled neatly in Amharic: Aba Dula wheat, Dabo barley, Red sorghum
of Wando. Each had a history, some passed down from grandparents, others brought by
farmers like her.
“Selam, good morning!” said Abebe, the seed bank coordinator and the village elder. His weathered face creased into a smile behind his grey beard. “We’ve just finished
processing the new batch of the sorghum seed. Strong stalks. Early maturation. Your
father preferred this variety.”
Selam smiled. She remembered sowing that very same red sorghum as a child
alongside her parents. It had been gone for years only to reappear thanks to the gene
bank.
About the Author: Miles Hillmann is a lifelong entrepreneur with a career that
bridges scientific curiosity and hands-on innovation, from his early work at the
Kabanyolo Agricultural Research Station in Uganda during Idi Amin's fall to
experiencing food shortage and famine in the Ethiopian Central Highlands. His workencompassed everything from agricultural development to building flash flood irrigation
food-for-work systems.
His first company developed processes for food industry materials. Concurrently he
pioneered real-time organic material analysis. He then created one of the UK's major
pollution control companies supplying specialist materials to companies in Europe,
Nigeria and the Middle East. This led him to establish companies in e-commerce,
accredited pollution control training and flood control.
This book is the story of the scientists, curators, and plant breeders leading this
movement, told in their voices, through his lens.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Pamela Gibson will
be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour
banner to see the other stops on the tour.
He was a licentious rogue,
or was he?
Aubrey St. Clair, Marquess of Leisterbridge, a notorious rake and society fribble,
abandons his bride on their wedding night to spite his father, the man who coerced him
into the marriage. When his intrepid bride turns up at his personal estate to quash the
scandal, they call a truce and finally get to know each other.
Lady Catherine Sturbridge considered ending her betrothal. But a threatening letter sent
to her by a convicted criminal whom she chanced upon in London, changed her mind.Marrying the powerful Duke of Gresham’s heir would keep her loved ones safe, even if
she must tie herself to a frivolous rogue.
When, despite her silence, her enemy abducts her godchild, Catherine is forced to
confide in her husband who agrees to help her. But can she trust him to know what to
do when a child’s life is at stake and they’ve been warned not to go to go the
authorities?
As they work closely together, they succumb to the passionate side of their marriage.
But Catherine is wary, despite finding a different man under the guise of a society
dandy, and when Aubrey reveals a long-held secret, she must protect her heart
because betrayal is the enemy of trust and their fragile, new-found love is about to
shatter.
Read an Excerpt
“A bit solemn, are you not, my dear? If you keep biting your lower lip, I shall have to
offer you my handkerchief to staunch the blood, and I would hate to soil it. Smile. This
is, after all, your wedding day.”
“And yours, as you now have access to a considerable dowry to fund all of your bad
habits.”
The rogue put his hand on her chin and turned her face toward him. A broad grin lit up
his face as if taunting her brought him the greatest of pleasures. “Now, now, Catherine. I
am not as bad as all that. You might be pleasantly surprised once you get to know me.
Gossip would have me sporting horns and a forked tail.”
“I remember seeing a poster with you seated on a bed surrounded by well-endowed,
unclad ladies in various positions. Your face, horns, and tail were well-drawn. The only
thing missing being signs of the pox.”
The laughter did not leave his face when he clutched his heart. “You wound me, wife. I
do not now, nor have I ever, had the pox, if that is the cause of your sour
expression.”
“I am relieved to hear it. However, this conversation must be put off. We are nearing my
father’s house.”
Horses were drawn to a halt, and the marquess alighted first then turned and grabbed
Catherine around the waist, swinging her in a circle before setting her on her
feet.
“Milord, are you mad?” she squealed.
He tilted his head and grinned. “Perhaps. Shall we make our grand entrance through
the stately front doors?”
Oh lord, what have I done?
About the Author:
Author of eight books on California history and twenty-three
romance novels, Pamela Gibson is a former City Manager who lives in Southern
Nevada. Having spent several years messing about in boats, a hobby that included a
five-thousand-mile trip in a 32-foot Nordic Tug, she now spends most of her time
indoors happily reading, writing, cooking and keeping up with the antics of her latestrescue cat, Lady Diana, a dignified senior. She loves red wine, all kinds of chocolate,
old Jimmy Buffet sailing songs, and curling up with a good book.
Thank you for reading. If you are so inclined, we would love for you to leave a review or
rating.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddes Fish Promotions. Beth Ford will be
awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour
banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Ashley
and Thomas, a medieval knight, are in 1377 England, escaping from present-day
immigration authorities intent on capturing Thomas. Having fled to the past to ensure
their togetherness, Ashley is faced with adapting to fourteenth-century life, while
Thomas, new to his title as Baron after his older brother’s death, is called to Parliament,
encountering enemies there and at court as he struggles to build his own
alliances.
Ashley's work at a monastic hospital is deemed “miraculous” but draws unwanted
attention as potential witchcraft. Meanwhile, becoming embroiled in a political
movement, she realizes too lateHow can Ashley conform to social expectations, counter the plot, and still keep her
relationship with Thomas, in all the turmoil?
Read an Excerpt
The scene at Newgate was much different than when they had left only a couple of
hours before. The crowd of everyday travelers had dispersed, and de Landys’s men had
been reinforced, though a few of them lay on the ground with arrows through their
chests. Most of them stood with their backs to Ashley and her group, intent on
countering the King’s men, who were heaving against the gate to break it down.
The two knights who had agreed to accompany her paused. Ashley glanced up at de la
Garde. “This is your moment, Sir Matthew. Your future reputation will depend on what
you choose to do now.”
Sir Matthew set his mouth in a grim line. He glanced at his fellow, who nodded at him.
They roared past her and attacked the men from behind, slashing swords into backs
and necks. Ashley used the distraction to dash into the gatehouse, where she paused
only to slide the torch into a handy sconce on the wall. The King’s men were still tied up.
She would have to trust that their loyalty to the King held true. Ashley knelt and used
her dagger to cut through the ropes, starting with de Mantel.
“What’s the situation?” he asked as soon as he was free of his gag.
“The King’s men are on the other side of the gate. We’ve reinforced them from
inside.”
“You? Are there any fighting men in your reinforceme
nts?”
“Yes. Two.” The bloody body of one of the traitors fell into the gatehouse doorway. Ashley forced a smile even though the sight made her gag. “See?”
it’s a plot against the King.
About the Author
<
/div>
Beth Ford writes historical and time travel stories that transport you in time. She is the
author of the novels In the Times of Spirits, Love Between Times, Love Across, Time,
and After the Spirits Come: A Continuation of Dickens's A Christmas Carol. She also
writes the Cassie Woods, Reporter historical mystery romance novella series. Her work
has also appeared in a variety of literary journals. She lives in the beautiful Shenandoah
Valley of Virginia.
Kain Kessler created a life defined by control, ink, and the belief that love is a
weakness he can’t afford. But when Eva Collins crashes into his life, his entire world is turned
upside down, sparking a fierce devotion he never expected. When a brutal kidnapping drags
Eva into Kain’s dangerous past, he realizes there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her safe.
Readers who crave high-stakes, he-falls-first, age-gap romances will fall head over heels for
Etched in Ink, a steamy billionaire romantic suspense from Nadia Han.
She is the flower soothing my soul, and I am the thorn protecting her.
With dark secrets etched in his soul and on his skin, Kain Kessler is a talented tattoo artist
who does not believe in love. But that belief changes when he meets a beautiful woman who
stuns him on the spot. He’s determined to make her his, even after she rejects him.
An eager and resourceful young florist, Eva Collins dreams of owning her own flower
shop—and that’s all she wants. One serious heartbreak was enough for her . . . until a family
member sets her up with an irresistible man who’s much older than her. When she’s kidnapped
and tossed into the terrifying underbelly of a black market operation, she gathers every ounce of
courage to survive.
Eva wants nothing more than to erase the cruelty Kain has suffered, and all he wants is to
protect the woman he loves from the darkness that wants them both dead.
“You’re older than me by sixteen years. Don’t you want a woman closer to your age?”
“I go by feelings.” He lifted a shoulder. “Besides, being older means I have a lot to teach
you.” A wicked smile stretched across his handsome face. “Is there anything you’d like to learn?
To know?”
I want to know what it’s like to kiss you.
But I was too embarrassed to say that out loud, especially when my grandfather was just
around the corner, probably eavesdropping.
As though Kain understood, he leaned in and whispered, “I’ve imagined doing so many
things to you. Very inappropriate things that would have your grandfather kicking me out right
now if he knew.” His warm breath caressed my skin, and tingles rushed through me. “Give me
the chance to show you.”
Gathering myself, I touched his cheek. “Why are you still single?”
“Like I told your grandfather, I’m waiting for the right woman. I haven’t wanted anyone as
much as I want you.”
His honesty warmed me, and I didn’t know what to say. Some people might not be
concerned about the big age gap between us, but I was. Kain was an experienced man. Would
he get bored talking to someone like me who hadn’t seen life as much as he had? Would he
move on after one date?
Give him one date. You have nothing to lose.
Accompanying him at the event would allow me to get to know him.
Before I could reply, Grandpa walked into the room groaning. I knew from his facial
expression that he’d been eavesdropping.
“My back is sore from all the cooking.” He stretched to the side. “I heard something about a
banquet? In case you’re thinking about inviting me, I won’t be able to make it. I’ve got a bingo
game going on with my friend Emilio. You kids go and have fun.”
“It’s not until next week, Grandpa.” Apparently, my grandfather had a friend who lived in my
building but forgot to mention it.
“Oh.” He looked up at the ceiling, pretending he’d forgotten something. But I knew the
wheels in his head were spinning fast. Looking back at me, he said, “Maybe you can take one of
his self-defense lessons and come home to show me. You’re home all week.” He turned to
Kain. “Do you have time to squeeze my granddaughter in?”
“I always have time for Eva.”
“I’ll give you my bingo winnings as a thank you.”
Oh my God.
“No need for that,” Kain said, probably suppressing a laugh. “Thank you for lunch.”
I looked at Kain, and an amused glance passed between us—Grandpa had just set me up
on a date at the gym. My grandfather was such a troublemaker.
“Thank you for the cupcakes, Kain. I’ll be having one tonight.” Grandpa went back to the
kitchen, leaving me alone with Kain again.
“I can’t believe this,” I muttered.
“I can.” Kain looked down the hallway. “He’s a smart man. He knows what’s best for his
granddaughter.”
“Is that so?”
“Meet me at the gym tomorrow and you’ll find out.”
About Nadia Han
I write swoonworthy, sophisticated, and suspenseful romance for readers who love
protective heroes, sassy heroines, and twisty plots. I live in New England with my husband and
two creative children. My love for mysticism, astrology, astronomy, K-Dramas, C-Dramas, true
crime TV shows, cats, and nature are sprinkled throughout my stories. When I’m not writing, Ispend time with my family, create art, practice yoga, read, explore nature, and eat all kinds of
foods.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish
Promotions. La Kayshal will be awarding $10 PayPal gift to a randomly
drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the
tour.
Dragons
fear prophecy, and love may be the final weapon in this dark, multi-POV
Romantasy perfect for fans of Fourth Wing and From Blood and Ash.
Feared as the harbinger of doom, Everin Haydon is stolen,
broken, and reforged by magic into a living weapon bound to a Dragon Council
that calls its tyranny justice.
Across the realms, Lord Tynan, the Demon of Darkness and
Chaos, returns. His awakening marks the coming of the three days of darkness,
and he tears through realms to reclaim what fate binds to him, the Hell’s Fire
Dragon.
But one question remains. If the demon rises, where is the
immortal meant to stop him?
As the dragon world waits for divine intervention, Everin
must decide whether she remains a weapon or becomes the fate of the
realms.
Read an Excerpt
The moon hung quietly above Helldreth Fort, its pale glow
spilling through the tall windows and brushing the chamber with soft silver. A
cool breeze drifted in and stirred the white curtains, their edges sweeping
lightly across Everin’s skin. She pulled her silk gown closer, grateful for the
warmth of the room. It felt comforting, far more so than the terrible, dark
place she had left behind.
Her steps carried her to the mirror in the corner. The
reflection staring back looked thinner, as if her body had been carved down to
something she hardly recognized. The neckline of her nightie dipped too low to
her liking, drawing her eye to the faint scars across her chest. The lamp light
traced their uneven lines, pale and unsettling.
She touched them gently. Everin barely remembered how or
when she got the scars. She pulled the outer robe around her until it covered
more of her chest. At least the scars were low enough to stay hidden unless she
wore something too revealing.
A sound of footsteps behind her made her
turn.
Tariel Fenwick, her first love, stood at the
doorway.
Everin froze for a moment. He looked different—stronger,
more defined, more man than the boy she remembered. His dark hair rested just
above his shoulders with two thin braids at the sides of his head, framing a
face sharpened by a faint stubble. His amber eyes, once so warm, now carried a
deeper, shadowed intensity. His shirt hung open across his chest, revealing
sculpted muscle that rose with each slow breath, and a leather gauntlet, more
like an open finger glove, hugged his left hand like a seamless extension of
his skin.
Her gaze lingered longer than she meant it to. He saw that.
A slow, knowing smirk touched his lips.
She straightened quickly. “We need to talk,
Tariel.”
“Yes,” he replied, approaching her, “but not
now.”
“There is a lot I want to understand,” she said quietly. “So
much I don’t remember.”
“Later.” He reached her, lowering his voice. “I’ve long
waited for this moment with you.”
He stepped closer.
She stepped back.
“You waited for me?” she whispered, searching his
face.
“I did,” he said. “More than you know.”
He brushed a fingertip along her arm. She stiffened but felt
a flicker of the old pull toward him, a warm memory trying to surface. Her eyes
drifted briefly to his lips, those that she had kissed in the past, before she
forced herself to look away.
His smirk deepened. “Are we shy now, Everin?” he murmured,
amusement warm in his voice.
About the Author: La Kayshal is an
Australian writer of romance, YA, and children's fantasy novels. She lives with
her husband, daughter, and a playful Malshi puppy in the coastal plains of the
Sunny State. br>
Her debut novel, The Lost Crown, is an adventure romance set
in the exotic landscapes of India. She also created the much-loved Sylph
Series, a whimsical children’s collection that introduces readers to the
amazing world of Sylphs, with each book carrying a gentle moral lesson.
A lifelong fan of wizards, magic, dragons, swords, and
elementals, she poured all these passions into her YA fantasy Ariston Baker in
the Weird Picture Book, a fast-paced journey filled with realms, riddles,
action, and adventure.
Her latest project is the Hell’s Fire Dragon duology, a
romantasy series filled with dragons, magic, and high-stakes conflict. Book 1,
The Flames of Darkness, begins the story, followed by Book 2, The Flames of
Soulflare.
Operations
Manager Carli Porter runs The Lochwell as if it were her own and is fiercely
protective of the community she’s built within its walls. But when the
building's owner sends in his best friend to evaluate its future, Caril finds
herself fighting to keep everything she loves from slipping away. Left with no
other option, she’s forced to team up with Alexander Grassi, the very man who
could decide the building's fate.
Readers who enjoy steamy,
he-falls-first romances will devour Fight It Until We Can’t by Cissy Mecca
& Tina Gallagher, a small-town, rivals-to-lovers
romance.
She's the operations manager who will
make sure he doesn't.
Carli Porter runs The Lochwell like
it's hers. The coffee shop is her living room. Its book club members are her
family. The residents are her friends. The pub is her Friday night. The only
problem? The building belongs to someone else, and that someone just sent his
best friend to decide its fate.
Alexander Grassi is smart and
annoyingly hard to hate. He also has the kind of forearms that make it very
difficult to stay mad at him. (She's tried. It hasn't worked.) He's supposed to
write a report, hand it over to his friend and leave. He wasn't supposed to
start showing up to trivia night. Or turning her coffee cup so the handle faces
her. Or looking at her like she's the best thing in a building full of things
worth saving.
She says his report could ruin her
life.
He says she's not wrong.
She says that's makes him the last
person she should want around.
He says he's staying
anyway.
Because some legacies (and people)
are worth fighting for.
Copyright 2026, Author
Cissy Mecca & Author Tina Gallagher
"Did you tell her?" Chris
asked Vee as he emerged from the small kitchen at the back of the
shop.
"Tell me what?" I asked.
Vee slid two coffees toward Maria Grazia and me.
"Only that the hottest guy I've
ever seen was asking for you earlier," Chris said. "He wasn't just
hot. He was extraordinarily hot. Casual, buttoned-up, perfect hair, two days
shadow with a smile that could melt polar ice-caps kind of hot".
"I know the man looking for you.
And can guess why he's here," Maria said. She set her cup down. That
small, deliberate gesture told me more than her words had. "He's a good
man," she added carefully. "His mother is one of my dearest friends.
But good men can still be sent to do difficult things".
Before I could figure that out, or
even take another sip of coffee, he stepped into the coffee shop. At least, I
assumed it was him. But since the Brew didn't often see extraordinarily hot men
with smiles that could melt polar ice-caps every day, I assumed that was
probably him. His light blue buttoned-down shirt was open, no tie, but the
casual tan sport coat still gave him a polished appearance. Honestly? Chris's
description was overall pretty spot-on.
He scanned the room, his gaze pausing
when it reached us. He smiled at Maria Grazia and headed our way.
"I'm thinking this is
Carli?" he asked her.
"You didn't tell me you planned
to meet with her, Xander". Maria Grazia's tone was sharper than
usual.
"I don't have an
appointment," he turned his attention to me. His eyes were hazel, in the
best way possible. "And honestly didn't think I'd actually find her. You
get around." Xander stuck his hand out. "Alexander Grassi".
A firm handshake from someone
accustomed to shaking hands. "Carlina Porter," I responded,
defaulting to my full name, as I did when I met someone new.
"I'm a property analyst,"
he said.
Before I could fully register that,
Maria Grazia added, "And one of Graeme Lochwell's best
friends".
The bottom dropped out of my stomach.
Property analyst. Graeme Lochwell's best friend. Both pieces landed separately,
and then all at once, the way bad news always did. I looked at Xander. He
wasn't smiling anymore either. Whatever this morning had been before... Lou's
Instagram, AnnMarie's bathtub, the abandoned coffee cup on some forgotten high
top... it had just become the least of my problems.
About Cissy
Mecca
A "recovering" 8th-grade
teacher and curriculum consultant with a PhD in Language & Literacy,
Cecelia loves writing high-heat, emotionally charged romance. The Brands (The
Mecca Romance Multiverse): Cissy Mecca: Contemporary Romance, Cecelia Mecca:
Medieval and Scottish Historical Romance. C.L. Mecca: Fantasy and Paranormal
Romance. Mecca Romance Signature Style: Heroines: Bold, strong women who fall
hard but never lose their identity. Heroes: High-heat, protective, and intense.
Vibe: Visceral, sensory-rich escapes... from family-owned vineyards to the
war-torn Anglo-Scottish borders. Other Info: Representation: Katie Reed (Katie
Reed Literary) Personal: Married, two teens, Disney enthusiast, traveler, and
wine lovers Authority: PhD background makes her an excellent guest for
craft-focused podcasts or literacy-based panels.
Tina Gallagher grew up and continues
to live in Northeast Pennsylvania. As a tween, she and her best friend would
create happily ever afters for their favorite soap opera couples. Eventually,
the soap operas lost their appeal, but the writing never did. Before living her
dream as a full-time author, she worked a spectrum of jobs ranging from baking
and cake decorating to marketing and project management. In between creating
memorable characters, traveling, and taking pole dance lessons, Tina enjoys
spending time with her two grown children and Golden Irish named
Thea.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish
Promotions. Patricia Leavy will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card
to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on
the tour.
For fans of Colleen
Hoover, this inspirational follow-up to Shooting Stars Above continues the love
story between internationally best-selling novelist Tess and counterterrorism
agent Jack as they both fight to overcome their deepest fears.
Tess Lee is a wildly successful and world-famous novelist
whose inspirational books explore our innermost struggles and the human need to
believe that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Jack Miller is a federal
agent who has spent decades working in counterterrorism—a violent world that
has left an inevitable residue on his psyche. Two years into their marriage, as
Tess and Jack both heal from past trauma, their epic love, fostered by their
ability to truly see one another, has brought them profound happiness. When an
anonymous threat is made against Tess’s life, however, everything changes. Will
they learn to lean on each other, or will they fall apart into the
darkness?
In Twinkle of Doubt, the second Celestial Bodies Romance,
Tess, Jack, and their chosen family explore the nature of doubt and the
struggle to feel worthy of love.
Read an Excerpt
The next morning, Tess and Jack were snuggling in bed. Jack
was playing with Tess’s hair and teasing her. “I’m serious. You’d look good in
a tiara; maybe you should have gone for that royal.”
“First of all, everyone looks good in a tiara.”
“That’s your first of all?” he said, tickling her
mercilessly.
She giggled uncontrollably until he stopped.
“Okay, I should have said, ‘In no particular order.’ But my
other points were that royalty is absurd, and that man was dull and uptight.
And furthermore, Omar is out of his mind. He wasn’t in love with me.”
“Well, that’s where you lose all credibility. I trust Omar
on this one. It’s impossible not to fall for you.”
She slid her hand behind her head, pulled out her pillow,
and walloped him in the face.
“You did not just do that,” he said through laughter.
“That’s what you get for saying such silly things,” she
said, now lying flat on the bed.
“Hey, I’m just grateful you’d give up a crown and palace for
a guy like me,” he said.
“Jack, there are no guys like you. There’s only you.”
He leaned over, caressed her face, and kissed her.
“Give me my pillow,” she said.
“Oh, now you want it back?” he teased, holding it in his
hand as far away from her as he could stretch. “You’re gonna have to come and
get it.”
She started to crawl over him when his cell phone rang. “Ah,
you’re in luck,” he said, handing her the pillow. “It’s Bobby.”
“See if they want to go to the movies with us later,” Tess
said, propping herself up against her pillow. “If Gina’s there, we can persuade
you two to see a romantic comedy and not one of those killing spree
monstrosities.”
Jack laughed and answered the phone. “Hey, Bobby. What are
you guys up to later? Save me from a chick flick.”
About the Author:
Patricia Leavy, PhD, is an
award-winning, best-selling author. She is also the publisher and CEO of Paper
Stars Press. She was formerly Associate Professor of Sociology, Chairperson of
Sociology & Criminology, and Founding Director of Gender Studies at
Stonehill College. She has published more than fifty books; her work has been
translated into many languages, and she has received more than one hundred book
awards. Her novel Shooting Stars Above was featured on People “10 Romance Books
to Read After Great Big Beautiful Life by Emily Henry” and was the 2025
Firebird Book Award First Place Winner in Contemporary Novel, Romance, and
Summer Beach Read. Patricia has also received career awards from the New
England Sociological Association, the American Creativity Association, the
American Educational Research Association, the International Congress of
Qualitative Inquiry, and the National Art Education Association. In 2018, she
was honored by the National Women’s Hall of Fame and SUNY-New Paltz established
the “Patricia Leavy Award for Art and Social Justice.” In 2024 the London
Arts-Based Research Centre established “The Patricia Leavy Award for Arts-Based
Research.” Patricia lives in Maine. In addition to writing, she enjoys art,
reading, and travel.
Operations
Manager Carli Porter runs The Lochwell as if it were her own and is fiercely
protective of the community she’s built within its walls. But when the
building's owner sends in his best friend to evaluate its future, Caril finds
herself fighting to keep everything she loves from slipping away. Left with no
other option, she’s forced to team up with Alexander Grassi, the very man who
could decide the building's fate.
Readers who enjoy steamy,
he-falls-first romances will devour Fight It Until We Can’t by Cissy Mecca
& Tina Gallagher, a small-town, rivals-to-lovers
romance.
Blurb
He's a property analyst hired to find
the cracks.
She's the operations manager who will
make sure he doesn't.
Carli Porter runs The Lochwell like
it's hers. The coffee shop is her living room. Its book club members are her
family. The residents are her friends. The pub is her Friday night. The only
problem? The building belongs to someone else, and that someone just sent his
best friend to decide its fate.
Alexander Grassi is smart and
annoyingly hard to hate. He also has the kind of forearms that make it very
difficult to stay mad at him. (She's tried. It hasn't worked.) He's supposed to
write a report, hand it over to his friend and leave. He wasn't supposed to
start showing up to trivia night. Or turning her coffee cup so the handle faces
her. Or looking at her like she's the best thing in a building full of things
worth saving.
She says his report could ruin her
life.
He says she's not wrong.
She says that's makes him the last
person she should want around.
He says he's staying
anyway.
Because some legacies (and people)
are worth fighting for.
Copyright 2026, Author
Cissy Mecca & Author Tina Gallagher
Hold on a second. Since when can't we
start with the sex scene? That's some kind of bullshit." Everyone laughed.
I was pretty sure they thought I was kidding. I wasn't. One simply didn't joke
about really good sex scenes, especially when the hero drags the heroine up his
chest to sit on his face. "We always start with our overall thoughts of
the book," Tiff said, her eyes dancing. She was the leader of our
sometimes-unruly pack, but even she couldn't keep the grin off her face. We
were sitting in the back corner of The Brew, the coffee
shop that served as the heart of the Lochwell. The smell of roasted beans and
old wood settled around us like a blanket. Outside, the Finger Lakes sun was
beginning to dip, but inside, the heat was all on the pages of this month's
pick. "My overall thought is that the hero needs to stop talking and start
doing more of... that," I said, tapping the cover.
This was my life. My sanctuary. These women were my family, and this
building—this beautiful, crumbling, historic brewery—was my soul. I’d spent
three years making sure every brick was in place, every tenant was happy, and
every cup of coffee was perfect. I was the operations manager. I was the fixer.
And I was damn good at it. But as I looked at the door, I saw him. The man who
didn't belong here. The man with the expensive suit and the professional audit
folder tucked under an arm that looked like it belonged on a Roman statue.
Alexander Grassi. He wasn't here for the book club. He was here to decide if
the Lochwell was worth saving, or if he was going to recommend his best friend
sell it to the highest bidder. He caught my eye through the glass, and for a
second, the banter of the book club faded into static. He didn't look like a
villain. He looked like a man who knew exactly how much trouble I was about to
give him. And God help me, I knew exactly how much trouble he was going to be
for me.
A "recovering" 8th-grade
teacher and curriculum consultant with a PhD in Language & Literacy,
Cecelia loves writing high-heat, emotionally charged romance. The Brands (The
Mecca Romance Multiverse): Cissy Mecca: Contemporary Romance, Cecelia Mecca:
Medieval and Scottish Historical Romance. C.L. Mecca: Fantasy and Paranormal
Romance. Mecca Romance Signature Style: Heroines: Bold, strong women who fall
hard but never lose their identity. Heroes: High-heat, protective, and intense.
Vibe: Visceral, sensory-rich escapes... from family-owned vineyards to the
war-torn Anglo-Scottish borders. Other Info: Representation: Katie Reed (Katie
Reed Literary) Personal: Married, two teens, Disney enthusiast, traveler, and
wine lovers Authority: PhD background makes her an excellent guest for
craft-focused podcasts or literacy-based panels.
Tina Gallagher grew up and continues
to live in Northeast Pennsylvania. As a tween, she and her best friend would
create happily ever afters for their favorite soap opera couples. Eventually,
the soap operas lost their appeal, but the writing never did. Before living her
dream as a full-time author, she worked a spectrum of jobs ranging from baking
and cake decorating to marketing and project management. In between creating
memorable characters, traveling, and taking pole dance lessons, Tina enjoys
spending time with her two grown children and Golden Irish named
Thea.
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish
Promotions. H.C. Turk will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN gift card to a
randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops at the
tour.
In
order to save her family, an 18th-century witch entertains suicide, thereby
entering a coma-like trance that lasts 300 years. In this magical state, she
reaches into the future to guide other people who long for redemption.
England, 1710. Young Alba knows she is a witch, but the term
means nothing until her mother is executed for witchcraft. Then Alba enters a
trance that causes everyone around her debilitating emotions, just like Alba’s.
The trance, which is Alba’s magic, does not appear again until years later when
her mentor is arrested and sentenced to death. Panicked, Alba stabs herself in
the heart. Instead of dying, she enters a “false sleep” (coma), a state of
spiritual consciousness. Hoping to find peace for others, she seeks similar
souls in the future.
Germany, 1942: An American soldier is mortally wounded. In
his final moment, he experiences the glory of a beautiful life, if only in his
dreams. He enters a spiritual realm filled with warm family adventures,
metaphysical escapades that are alternately hilarious and horrific, yet always
lead away from anguish. Directed by Alba’s unseen influence, Andrew fights for
solace, and wins.
Indonesia, 2003: A young American woman on a Western Pacific
island must relive an ancient, tortuous journey through a primitive environment
in order to redeem the foreigners in the country. Influenced by a power she can
only sense in her heart (Alba), Connie seeks a solution of acceptance instead
of rejection.
Told with humor and compassion, the heart of the book is the
longing to find peace despite haunting failure, and finding joy in helping
others achieve the same.
Read an Excerpt
When I was alive, I could not tell you what a train is, or
would be. Now, I cannot tell you how I feel about transportation of this
nature, a line of connected metal carriages driven by mechanisms like clockwork
from beyond; and is that not the source of the future? When I was alive, I
could not tell you what a train is, or would be. Now, I cannot tell you how I
feel about transportation of this nature, a line of connected metal carriages
driven by mechanisms like clockwork from beyond; and is that not the source of
the future?
Neither can I tell you the nature of my testimony, though I
praise the Deity that I can wield my influence into the lives of other people
who deserve liberation. Unlike salvation, which comes from God, redemption
comes from the heart.
“Liberation” is a goal of the associated horror ensconcing
this era: “warfare,” the particular involved here not local, but global, the
second of its kind, though not the last.
1945. How bigoted would I be to say that no witch is good at
numbers? Germany. Once I was accused of being of that nationality, and now I
virtually live there, with my virtual life.
In the distance, snowy, irregular mountain tops, not the
Cambrian Mountains, but the Alps. Some brief words can be so
fine.
An American draftee rides in a German Diesel locomotive with
other stragglers. (Time is coming for me to absorb the meaning of these new
terms and the ideas they represent without delineating their specifics: a
nation that did not exist when I was alive, the massive machines, the murderous
weapons. Beyond that, how close must one be to a person and their living in
order to become a participant, not merely an observer?)
Neither can I tell you the nature of my testimony, though I
praise the Deity that I can wield my influence into the lives of other people
who deserve liberation. Unlike salvation, which comes from God, redemption
comes from the heart.
“Liberation” is a goal of the associated horror ensconcing
this era: “warfare,” the particular involved here not local, but global, the
second of its kind, though not the last.
1945. How bigoted would I be to say that no witch is good at
numbers? Germany. Once I was accused of being of that nationality, and now I
virtually live there, with my virtual life.
In the distance, snowy, irregular mountain tops, not the
Cambrian Mountains, but the Alps. Some brief words can be so
fine.
An American draftee rides in a German Diesel locomotive with
other stragglers. (Time is coming for me to absorb the meaning of these new
terms and the ideas they represent without delineating their specifics: a
nation that did not exist when I was alive, the massive machines, the murderous
weapons. Beyond that, how close must one be to a person and their living in
order to become a participant, not merely an observer?)
About the Author
H. C. Turk is a writer, sound artist, and visual artist. His
novels have been published by Villard and Tor. His short fiction, sound pieces,
movies, and visual art have appeared in numerous magazines, websites, podcasts,
and film festivals. He used to paint houses (not as an art
form.)
A breakup on
the way to a Fourth of July getaway was supposed to be the end for Merritt and
Ben until a strange accident sends them five years into a future neither of
them remembers. No longer together and surrounded by lives that have shifted in
unexpected ways, Merritt and Ben must piece together what went wrong between
them and their once-tight friend group. As old feelings reignite and hidden
truths are exposed, the past and present collide in ways they never anticipated.
Readers who enjoy heartfelt second-chance romances, stories with emotional time
slips, and a love that refuses to fade will devour Five Summers from Now, a
steamy new romance from Michelle Dayton.
They were supposed to spend the
Fourth of July weekend with their closest friends—fireworks, laughter,
traditions. Instead, Merritt Sullivan and Ben Samuels broke up on the drive to
the lake, before the first spark lit the sky.
But after a strange accident on the
dock, they wake up to find that everything’s changed. It’s five years later.
They’re no longer a couple. Their friends’ lives have shifted in ways they
never saw coming. Careers, relationships, even loyalties have rearranged—some
for the better, some painfully worse. And neither of them remembers the years
in between.
Forced to navigate a future they
don’t recall, Merritt and Ben must work together to understand what fractured
not only their relationship, but their entire friend group. The only way
back—if going back is even possible—is to face the heartbreak they once tried
to outrun.
As old feelings resurface and new
truths come to light, they’ll have to decide: is the future worth keeping…or
worth rewriting?
Tears formed and slid down my cheeks.
I dashed them away with one hand, silent, not wanting to break the spell. Out
of the corner of my eye, I saw Ben’s right hand jerk in my direction as if he
wanted to touch me, needed to touch me, but then realized he
shouldn’t.
Oh, to hell with it.
I reached over, grabbed his hand, and
pulled it to my heart. I bent my head and pressed my lips to it. He’d said his
brother’s name to me, for the first time ever.
A broken sound escaped his mouth at
the feel of my lips on his skin. The next thing I knew, he was pulling me into
his arms, the tight confines of the car be damned.
He pushed the driver’s side seat
back, settled me onto his lap sideways, and held on to me for dear life,
panting into my neck.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, winding my
arms around his neck and stroking through the hair on the back of his head.
“It’s okay.”
I closed my eyes and breathed him in,
the Downy fabric softener and chlorine scent of my Ben. His arms tightened
around my waist, and I let myself luxuriate in his embrace. God, I hadn’t felt
this safe in ages. I’d been so angry with him for so long. Even when we hugged,
it was perfunctory and quick. I hadn’t let myself cling or need him. Hadn’t let
him hold me or need me.
I’d taken his hand because he needed
comfort. We both did. This was his body’s response to my earlier apology. He
didn’t have the words, so holding me like this was his way of showing me he
forgave me.
But now, the embrace was changing for
me. It was becoming about need. All about need. I needed to feel his chest
expand and contract, needed to feel his breath against my bare neck, needed his
hands tugging on the strands of my hair.
I was suddenly hot all over, despite
the air-conditioning. It’d been so many months since he’d touched me, and even
if this embrace was simply in the spirit of forgiveness and comfort, my body
was responding in a very not-PG way.
“Merritt,” Ben whispered.
I pulled my face back, brushing my
cheek against his on my way to eye contact.
He stared up at me, at my mouth, his
pupils expanding and obliterating the blue. When I sucked in my bottom lip, he
groaned in the back of his throat. “If you don’t want to be kissed, you better
get the hell off my lap.”
Instead, I gripped the seat behind
his shoulders and used it as a brace as I twisted my body upright and carefully
brought my right leg over to straddle him.
Later, I’d probably kick myself for
this. Escalating things with Ben at this moment made about as much sense as the
defeat of the aliens in Independence Day, but common sense
didn’t stand a chance against the desire in Ben’s eyes, my racing heart, and
the singing sense of rightness in my veins every time his mouth was on
mine.
Ben’s body was taut with restraint as
he waited for my right knee to find purchase on the seat cushion between him
and the door. The very instant my weight stabilized, he cupped the back of my
neck and drew my face to his, claiming my mouth.
About Michelle
Dayton
There are only three things Michelle
Dayton loves more than sexy and suspenseful novels: her family, the city of
Chicago, and Mr. Darcy. Michelle dreams of a year of world travel – as long as
the trip would include weeks and weeks of beach time. As a bourbon lover and
unabashed wine snob, Michelle thinks heaven is discussing a good book over an
adult beverage.
A ruthless
bodyguard sworn to protect a woman whose family is his sworn enemy finds his
loyalty tested when forced proximity turns hatred into a dangerous attraction.
As enemies close in and the line between desire and duty blurs, protecting her
could mean betraying everything he’s ever known. Readers who enjoy forbidden,
forced proximity romances with touch-her-and-die vibes will love The Protection
Agreement by A. Akinosho, a steamy enemies-to-lovers, billionaire, bodyguard
romance.
When a threat puts her life in
danger, there’s only one man capable of protecting her—a ruthless bodyguard
with a fearsome reputation and loyalty carved into his bones. The problem? His
family and hers are sworn enemies. And he learned to hate her last name long
before he ever knew her.
This is duty. A
contract. Nothing more.
Shared space. Constant
protection. No attachment. No temptation.
Forced proximity turns restraint into
tension. Hatred softens. Awareness sharpens. Desire becomes impossible to
ignore. She’s a damsel in distress who refuses to be fragile. He’s a
possessive protector bound by duty, fighting feelings he has no right to claim.
Every glance is forbidden. Every moment together is a betrayal written in
silence.
As enemies close in and pressure
mounts, distance becomes impossible.
Because the longer he stands between
her and danger, the harder it is to remember where duty ends—and desire
begins.
He was sworn to keep her
alive. He just wasn’t prepared for what it would cost him.
Lexi returns from her room and takes
the seat next to me. I’ve concluded that we are fighting a losing
battle. It’s just a matter of time before the attraction between us takes over
and its fiery flame burns through us. We are quiet, our eyes are trained on the
movie even as I’m provocatively attune to her presence, her allure is seeping
into every nook and cranny of my being. It doesn’t take long before
she leans into me. I don’t move out of her reach. She’s soft and warm in my
arms and my whole being is responding to her closeness. I need to get her in
bed. I move her head from my shoulder.
“Hmm,” she groans. “Kiss me, Bruce,”
she whispers. I pause for a moment, convinced I didn’t hear
her.
“What did you say?” I ask, betting
she doesn’t realize what she asked of me.
“Kiss me, Bruce,” she says, her voice
barely audible. “I want you to kiss me. I took my meds.“ A chuckle
escapes her “Be aware that I may not remember in the morning, so make it good
so I can dream of you.” She grins, though a bit out of
it.
I want her to remember, and I
shouldn’t grant her request, but I’ve been dying to kiss her, so who am I to
deny her request especially when she wants to dream of me. I shift positions so
she’s on her back and I kiss her lips gently and she opens her mouth to let me
in. I kiss her with the fervor of a starved man that I am. Her tongue swirls
sweetly with mine. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me closer and
deeper to her. My tongue is seeking every inch of her mouth, my body is intensely
aroused. A soft moan escapes her, it sends a charge through my
body.
I can probably make love to her now
and she wouldn’t stop me, but I also want her sober and consenting plus I want
her to always remember us, every touch, every kiss and every thrust of me
inside her. I slowly pull away. Breaking the sweet feel of our kiss.
Fuck, I just
kissed Jonah’s girl and I fucking like it.
She smiles. “Goodnight,
Bruce.”
She turns to her side and sleeps like
she didn’t just break through every resistance shield of mine. I sigh because
looking at her, I want more. I feel it in the blood thumping in my veins. My
ragged breath that I fucking need to control. My hands running through my hair
in exasperation of what I’ve just done. I know there’s no going back
now.
Leaning down, I lift her in
my arms. She giggles like a little girl. I should leave her in her room, but
I’ve a need for her closeness, I can’t explain or control. I move
slowly with her asleep in my arms and place her gently in my bed. She curls to
her side and sleeps off. I sit on the bed for a moment watching her,
“she can’t leave” the voice that slams in my
head. Just as Declan’s words a while ago “when you kiss the one, you
never want another” I feel the weight of what I’ve done. Kissed the
one but she belongs to another man and not just any man. A man that hates my
guts, paid me to keep her safe and sternly warned me not to touch her. I now
know why, he made that request because he knows once I did.
He and I would be at war. Yet I find
myself willing to go to war for her. Damn it
I move closer and kiss her temple, my
palm gently touching her face. A giggle escapes her and I wonder if she’s
dreaming of me. I cover her and get off the bed. I go into the
bathroom to shower and relieve the monster awakening between my legs. I get
temporary relief. Wrapping my towel around my waist. I peep to check on her.
She’s knocked out. I put sleeping pants on and get in bed with her, pulling her
into my arms and she doesn’t resist.
About A.
Akinosho
A. Akinosho lives in her own little
nest in Illinois. An avid reader and enjoy reading thrillers, suspense, and
romance novels (partial to the romance genre). When she's not reading or
keeping up with life, she enjoys writing and creating twists to stories. She
loves writing about diverse characters, friendship, and overcoming challenges
through what is perceived as a weakness.
